A clear account writ fair an' broad,
An' a plain apologie;
Or the deevil a ceevil word to God
From a gentleman like me.


X - THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB


Dear Thamson class, whaure'er I gang
It aye comes ower me wi' a spang:
"LORDSAKE! THEY THAMSON LADS - (DEIL HANG
OR ELSE LORD MEND THEM!) -
AN' THAT WANCHANCY ANNUAL SANG
I NE'ER CAN SEND THEM!"

Straucht, at the name, a trusty tyke,
My conscience girrs ahint the dyke;
Straucht on my hinderlands I fyke
To find a rhyme t' ye;
Pleased - although mebbe no pleased-like -
To gie my time t'ye.

"WEEL," an' says you, wi' heavin' breist,
"SAE FAR, SAE GUID, BUT WHAT'S THE NEIST?
YEARLY WE GAITHER TO THE FEAST,
A' HOPEFU' MEN -
YEARLY WE SKELLOCH `HANG THE BEAST -
NAE SANG AGAIN!' "