Here's a guid ane tae practice oan.
my all time favourite by Flora Garry, late of Buchan Bennygoak (the hill of the cuckoo)

It wis jist a skelp o the muckle firth, A sklyter o' roch grun
Fan Gradfadder's fadder brike it in Fae the hedder and the funn.
Grandfadder sklatit barn and byre, Brocht watter tae the closs,
Put fail dykes ben the bare brae face An a cairt road tull the moss.

Bit wir fadder sotered in the yard And skeppit amo' bees
An keepit fancy dyeuks and doos At warna muckle 'eese.
He bocht aal wizned horse an kye An scrimpit muck and seed
Syne, clocherin wi a craichly hoast, He dwine't awa and dee'd.

Midder's growen aal and deen Dylet an sma-bookit tee
But still she's maister o' her wark. My wark, it maisters me.
Och! I'm tyert o' plyterin oot and in Amo' hens an swine an kye
Kirnin' amo' brookie pots an yirnin croods and fye.

I look far ower by Ythanside to Fyvie's laich, lythe laans,
Tae Auchterless and Bennachie and the mist blue Grampians.
Sair't o' the hull o' Bennygoak an' scunnert o' the fairm
Gin I but daar't, Gin I but daar't i'd flit the comin term.

It's ull to thole on the first Spring day Fin the black earth lies in clods,
An the teuchat's wallochin' at the ploo An the sna bree rins on the roads.
O, it's ull tae thole in the still hairst gloam Fan the lift's a bleeze o' fire;
Ah stan an' glower, the pail in ma haun, On ma raod oot tull the byre.

Bit it's wirst ava aboot Whitsunday Fan the nichts are quaet an' clear
An the floorin' currant's by in the yard An the green corn's in the breer
An the bird at gave this hull its name Yon bird ye nivver see
Sits doon in the wid by the waater side an laachs, laich-in, at me.

'Flit, flit ye feel,' says the unco bird 'There's finer, couthier folk
An kindlier country hine awaa Fae the Hull o' Bennygoak.'
Bit ma midder's growin aal and deen An likes her ain fireside.
Twid brak her hairt tae leave the hull: It's brakkin mine tae bide.

ljc