Twa Scotsmen in a Flother
Today saw the first fa’ o’ snaw
And every flaw wis different.

Crumpin’ through the flother
I met anither, who passing says,
Aye, it’s no a snitter ...
Nor penitent or lopper, says I,
Nor snew, says he breezily,
Mair like a wapping blizzard.

Today saw the first fa’ o’ snaw
And every flaw wis different.
Archibald Buchanan

The rose of all the world is not for me
I want for my part
Only the little white rose of Scotland
That smells sharp and sweet - and breaks the heart.
Hugh MacDiarmid

'So that was Chris and her reading and schooling, two Chrisses there were that fought for her heart and tormented her. You hated the land and the coarse speak of the folk and learning was brave and fine one day; and the next you'd waken with the peewits crying across the hills, deep and deep, crying in the heart of you and the smell of the earth in your face, almost you'd cry for that, the beauty of it and the sweetness of the Scottish land and skies.'
Lewis Grassic Gibbon, Sunset Song