Of mousie o’ Auchtermuchty

In yon braw hamlet o’ Auchtermuchty,
Whaur the wind whistles thro’ the heather,
There bides a tale o’ a wee mousie,
A tale that’ll be tauld forever.

A mousie wi’ a name sae lang,
It gar’d the maist learned men stammer;
Sae lang it couldnae be wrang,
A name, aye, o’ confoundin’ glamour.

Auld Jock the farmer and his guidwife,
Begrudged this mousie’s cunnin’ ploys;
Whiles in the pantry, causin’ strife,
Thievin’ the cheese, causin’ a noise.

Folk far and wide cam’ gatherin’ ’round,
Wi’ traps and snares, they fought the beast;
But nane could mind the name they’d found,
And sae the mousie’s pranks increased.

Oor mousie, sly and nimble-footed,
Knew weel his name held great protection;
For as lang as it remained undoubted,
Nae hooman could make a connection.

As tales o’ the mousie spread afar,
A bard o’ great skill and repute,
Cam’ seekin’ the truth, frae near and far,
A man bent on solvin’ the dispute.

He’d heard o’ the mousie’s name sae lang,
A name that nae soul could remember,
And wi’ his quill, began a sang,
A sang tae be sung till December.

“O Mousie McDougal McTavish MacFie,
MacAlister, MacLeod, and MacGillivray,
MacKenzie, MacIntyre, MacPherson MacLee,
O’er yer name auld Scotland will quiver, aye!

O Mousie O’Donnell O’Sullivan O’Reilly,
O’Connor, O’Grady, O’Hara, O’Neillie,
O’Leary, O’Flynn, and O’Shaughnessy truly,
Yer name it stretches on, sae unruly!”

Wi’ the sang o’ the bard, the name was telt,
The mousie’s secret cast tae the winds;
Afore lang, the mousie’s fate was dealt,
And an end tae his mischief begins.

No more the mousie plied his tricks,
His name nae longer a hidin’ place;
O’er Scotland, the bard’s words still echo quick,
O’ the mousie, a memory we’ll ne’er erase.

Thus the mousie o’ Auchtermuchty,
Wi’ a name that baffled even the sage,
Hath met his end, baith sad and touchin’,
As we turn another page.






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