Ode to a Gan Scot

I canno let the day pas on
Wi-oot a tak on Burns
This ploughman poet o’ suk gan song
O’ witty rhymes n turns.
A young man died this noble Scot
Wit sae many ta mourn his goin
But those he taxed he taxed a lot
Whilst misty winds thair blowin.
Some say he died ‘o fragile heart
And others say ‘twas lasses
Wha’e’re in death did play its part
We’ll raise our whisky glasses.