To a Runner by Emily

Oh, rapid runner sprinting past,

How can ye run sae far sae fast,

I know yell never come in last,

Whilst o’er the line.

Ye’ll sprint in hurry wi’ a blast,

An’ feelin’ fine.

 

An’ when yer finally at the track,

Ye know that there’s nae goin’ back,

An’ anything that ye will lack

You’ll be fearin’,

Yet at long last you’ll start tae slack,

An’ be drearin’.

 

But when ye finally cross the line,

I know that you’ll be feelin’ fine

The victory was just devine,

And ah will smile.

Fir you will get tae wine n dine,

Just for a while.

 

Crowned wi’ a medal o’ pure gold,

Yer face sparks up so proud and bold,

For the crowds opinions were sold,

Wi’ happiness.

Wan day a story gladly told,

Wi’ cheerfulness.

 

But runner, how dae ye find space,

Fae a busy time fer a chase?

Yet still, always come in first place.

Yer devoted

It means so much tae win the race,

An’ promoted.

 

But as far as ah can see,

These memories will always be,

A special day that I know that thee,

All will treasure.

Yet will be worth it too fer me,

For such pleasure.

 Emily Cuthbert

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