The winter’s wearin’ throu’ again,

An’ deer, a hard time hae,

But we can help them beat the rain

So, let me hae my say!

An’ weel in bed, at nicht ye’ll rest

The same, yer Boss or Lairdie,

In knowledge that ye’ve dane yer best

Tae help yer place’s herdie!

Noo, Acid Rain’s a fact o’ life,

An’ canna be ignor’d;

So if ye wish tae avoid strife,

Read on ow’r this bit ‘board’!

An’ I’ll assure ye, in yer wark,

The time ye winna waste,

For mony deer, on hill and park

Are similarly grac’d.

The Copper’s been near aa’ wash’d oot

This thirty year gane bye,

As Scientific lads point oot

- An’ change this, we must try!

An’ them that ken these wirds are fact,

Can tae this weel attest,

For maist o’ them, an order mak’d

Tae gie their herd The Best.

Till noo, the hill has aye-wyes gi’en

Provision for the deer

But withoot minerals, dear frien’,

They’ll suffer bad, I fear!

Tho’t ‘s sad tae say, some Factor chiels,

The purse strings winna open;

But Ignorance is but for Feels

Wha’ll  probably be  hopin’,

The hinds are fu’ o’ growin’ calf,

An’ feel the strain real sair;

Their unborn should, by mair than half

By noo, be weighin’ mair.

That Acid rain will miss them bye,

An’ nae affect their view,

 - Well, cast ye roon’ wi’ critic’s eye

Aboot yer placie noo:

But withoot their trace elements

That sour rain’s now depleted,

Development o’ their unborn,

Can nae, full, be completed.

The rain it eats the sandstane blocks,

An’d copper flash turns green:

- Nae “P.H.7” water, folks,

Erosion such, has dane!

For o’ their forage, they’ve sma’ choice,

And pick at what they can,

So comin’ calfies, says this voice,

Will nae be quite so gran’.

An’ if o’ some convincin’ tool

Ye think ye’d lik’ tae see

Try litmus paper in some pool

An’ very seen ye’ll see.

But If their nat’ral winter-fare

We choose to supplement

Investment will repay, and mair

-An’ keep them hame, content.

For waste yer time, I widna dae

If what I say was wrang

But ken this tae be truth, ye see

An’ sae will you, ere lang.

For better hinds throw better young

Which, in time, grow real good

An’ aa’ because the ‘bottom rung’

On this “ladder” we’ve stood!

So! Think aboot this bit o’ rhyme,

An’ some aboot yer deer;

And send yer order in guid time,

An’ fae’s ye shall hear!