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His clean hearth-stane, his thriftie Wifie’s smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a’ his weary kiaugh and care beguile, An’ makes him quite forget his labour and his toil.

At length his lonely cot appears in view, Beneath the shelter of an aged tree; Th' expectant wee-things, toddlin', stacher through stagger To meet their dad, wi' flichterin' noise an' glee. fluttering His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonnilie, fire His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, The lisping infant prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile, worry An' makes him quite forget his labour an' his toil.

A' has the sound of a in all; pronounce kiaugh something like kee-owch', giving the ch a harsh, guttural sound.

His wee bit ingle, blinkin bonilie, His clean hearth-stane, his thrifty wifie's smile, The lisping infant, prattling on his knee, Does a' his weary kiaugh and care beguile, And makes him quite forget his labour and his toil.