The Farmer's Wife To Her White Heifer (For Dora Yates}

COOM, Cush-Luve, coom, thoo should be in thi byre
By t' edge o' dark,
Instead o' gettin' thisen mucked in mire.
Noo, just thoo mark
My words, Cush-Luve! but thoo is varra knowin'
An' artful, too,
Thoo's up anent t' owd blackthorn by thi lowin',
Coom, Cush-Luve, noo!
Thoo'd kiss my neck, thoo bonny lile cratur';
Give ower laikin',
But to be fond an' gamesome is thi nature.....
Noo stars are wakin'
An' ivery beast, save thoo, in Dallow Ghyll
Is in its stall;
Coom, Gush-Luve, get agate, wiv a good will
Git on an' all!