A Sang o the Wireless Harps

A Sang o' the Wireless Harps

I
O bonnie wee devices, wrought wi' care,
That free the soul frae tangled wire's constraint,
These wireless harps that float upon the air,
Bring music pure to every heart that's faint.
The sound flows clear as burns through Highland glens,
Wi' bass sae deep it shakes the very breast,
An' treble notes like sang o' moorland wrens,
Do soothe the weary traveller to rest.

II
The comfort o' them rests upon thy ears,
No cords to snare ye like a hunter's snare,
Through lang an' lonesome days an' passing years,
Thy faithful companions everywhere.
The battery holds its charge through morn till night,
The fit is snug, the padding soft an' kind,
An' whether walkin' through the fading light,
Or sittin' quiet, peace ye surely find.

III
Yet mark me well—the price sits rather high,
An' some may find the buttons hard to use,
But still I say, before ye pass them by,
These wireless harps are treasures nae to lose.
For in this world o' noise an' endless din,
A moment's music, pure an' undefiled,
Is worth its weight in gold—so take them in,
An' let them make thy weary spirit mild.