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Dessus
de l'Escalier The brave auld Duke of York, poor loon Was up when up and doun when doun;
But puff’d and blawn, he stood stock still,
When only halfway up the hill
Had
I ance mair my youthfu’ prime,
When
Arthur’s Seat I aft did climb,
I
wadna try my puff sae sair,
To
climb a toilsome flicht o’ stairs
But
hech, sirs! Noo losh me! It
seems
like
ane o’ Jacob’s ten-mile dreams
An’
sair’s my fecht (when sair’s my feet)
To
climb the stair in Castle Street
My
grievance noo ye’ll quickly guess,
I
fein would see our E.P.S.
In
rooms mair flash, no just sae high,
Wi
mair o’ foreground, and less sky.
Noo let this thocht your mind engage,
Develop slowly stage by stage;
With £. S. D. if wisely mixed,
The scheme might soon be toned and fixed
’T wad make us far mair up to date
And
swell our ranks at sic a rate,
That
progress and complete success
Wad
crown the good old E.P.S.
Rez-de-Chaussee
1911 |