The Rattling Mist o Cramond ShoreWhen haar creeps in across the Almond’s mouth,An auld grey breath frae Forth tae sodden land,The shells begin tae whisper, north tae south,Their rickle-ruckle voice nae soul can stand.Lang syne in Cramond, where the tides confide,A mason named James Walker dared tae kenWhat walked wi Widow Macniven at tideA thing […]