It wuz a low buildin' built of sunthin' that looked like stun.

But come to find out it wuz the cottage of Robert Burns, and I hastened my steps, Josiah and Blandina follerin' on.
For low as that buildin' is, lookin' like a ant hill almost by the side of the high red granite administration buildin', that little cabin holds memories that soar up higher than the peakedest, highest ruffs on the Fair ground.

The Home of Robert Burns, the Poet of the People.

How his inimitable poetry come troopin' through my mind as I walked through the low rooms, there is only four on 'em, kitchen, settin' room, store room and stables.
I didn't approve of havin' the stables so nigh the livin' rooms, and should have advised Robert's wife to stood her ground and not had it.
But I wuzn't there, and she gin in probable, and mebby she wanted it so, it wuz handy, you could open the door and milk into your coffee cup if so inclined.

The bed is built in the kitchen wall; I spoze they couldn't afford anything better, and 'tennyrate that humble bed pillowed the form that will walk down the ages crowned with honor and lovin' memories, while many monarchs who at that time rested on carved rose-wood have sunk into oblivion.
The people are not goin' to forgit their poet.