YE sons of old Killie, assembled by Willie, <br />To follow the noble vocation; <br />Your thrifty old mother has scarce such another <br />To sit in that honoured station. <br />I've little to say, but only to pray, <br />As praying's the ton of your fashion; <br />A prayer from thee Muse you well may excuse <br />'Tis seldom her favourite passion. <br /> <br /> <br />Ye powers who preside o'er the wind, and the tide, <br />Who markèd each element's border; <br />Who formed this frame with beneficent aim, <br />Whose sovereign statute is order:— <br />Within this dear mansion, may wayward Contention <br />Or witherèd Envy ne'er enter; <br />May secrecy round be the mystical bound, <br />And brotherly Love be the centre!<br /><br />Robert Burns<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/masonic-song-ye-sons-of-old-killie/
