Twa

Well, let's confess arithmetic
Was never the strong suit of bards
Unmoored from finger-tapping counts
And the thread-count of guitars.

Fair enough. Three is twa, twa thee,
Thee my heart's last stop-and-start awe
At life's insane fecundity.

Sae, we were twa, wan? Now we're three,
Thank indeed thy braw, bonny een.