The King in the Spider’s Cave

Oh, come yon day, when sun wull titch the sky, 

This brave king ca’d the Bruce will lea his cave behind. 

As winter winds haud on, he whets his sword on stane,

That Pictish men of auld did carve so lang afore he came. 

Though dowie he may be, his eyes burn yit so bricht 

Wi’ the weight o’ his country’s wull laid oan through his birth richt. 

Thay follow roond a windin’ web that glistens in the light; 

Fae howlin’ wind, its webbed bones wur struck wi’ tempered smite. 

Wee spider, o’er in the corner, ye’v bin up since dawn, 

Wee beastie, though yir tired so, King Bruce aye watches oan. 

A web kin ne’er compare tae a kingdom, strength nor size, 

Yit, oh, wee spider, ilka spin reminds him o’ his prize.

Come darkness fa’, the stars wull burn above tae act as sun, 

In hopes that noble Rab the Bruce wull see a’ that wis spun. 

He’ll hearten men an’ lead them tae a battle tae be won; 

Strike Longshanks wi’ his sharpened steel that grants us oor freedom. 

Wee spider, o’er in the corner, ye’v bin up since dawn, 

Wee beastie, though yir tired so, King Bruce aye watches oan. 

A web kin ne’er compare tae a kingdom, strength nor size, 

Yit, oh, wee spider, ilka spin brought us this wonderous prize.