Hopin’ in a serial form
Tae pass some thochtsalang,
Makin’ some weemin in God’s Wurd
The burden o’ mae sang.

Prayin’ that mae auld farrint style,
Sae quaint an’ poor an’ stark,
May nivermak’ the truth a lie,
Nor guidlichtintae dark.

A ask ye al’ tae bear wae me,
As we frae time tae time
Think o’ those Bible kerricters
In simple bits o’ rhyme.

Some say Eve wuznaejuist the first,
A thing tae us absurd;
Auld skilitins is naeoor theme,
‘Tisweemin o’ the Wurd.

Tae Eve, then, let oorthochts repair,
Great mother o’us al’,
Whas kindness taehir husband dear
Cas’d him far doontaefal’.

The wileyserpint knew fu’ weel
Yince he cud gain hir ear,
That she wud bring the man alang
Waeoot the least o’ fear.

Still, like a fand an’ faithful wife,
Though times wurnae as gran’
She proved a helpmeet wile she lived
Tae Eddim, the first man.

An’ God said that hir seed shud bruise
The crafty serpint’sheid;
Sure Christians know within their hearts
That promise is made guid.

Weemin, ye wield a mighty power,
A fact al’ men believe;
So as ye exercise it please,
Remember sister Eve.

A.L.F. New Year 1916

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