Ode tae Nest bothy
A rickle o' sooty timbers, some slate, a pickle stanes,
Where yince a braw bothy stood, a grand doss tae rest yer banes;
A place where herd and keeper stiyed, tae look ower sheep and stag,
A place o' loch and mountain, the high corrie and the crag.
But noo the place is jist a shell, a' wis consumed wae flame;
Aye, the queerest thing aboot it a', naebody took the blame.
The cowardly rascals ne'er owned up: they jist ran away;
I bet the silly buggers belonged to the MBA.
TAC 2 Index