It’s a braw bunch of lads
Taking their mind’s ease a moment
Around a brew or two will do you
At the Dover Arms. No tourists
Peer in windows now. The rain
Pulls shining puddles and creeks
Down the sidewalk towards English Bay
And some of the lads are wondering
About the incredible art of Rabbie Burns—
Quoting braid Scots in bloody great slabs
Singing his lovely haunting songs
In the cathedrals of their minds.