Poems and Songs

The Old Photographer’s

New Year Salutation

  to his 

Ancient Rolleiflex

Fair fa’ your grand, auld-fashioned face,

Great chieftain o; the camera race;

Abune them a’ ye tak’ your place,

Can-, Chin- or Nikon.

I wouldna’ tak’ ane oot its case

Wi’ you to pick on.

Ye’ll mind o’ shadows on the hill, 

Dark waters when the wind was still,

The peewits tumblin’, cryin’, shrill,

Across the moors.

For just ane picture, guid or ill,

I’d sit for hoors.

Puir deevils noo, wi’ modern trash,

An’ motor-drives that  whirr and crash

As yards o; film, wham bang, slapdash,

Gang like the clappers.

What’s dedicated noo’s the flash

An’ no’ the snappers.

The latest whizzfizz sets itself

AF, FX an’ TTL,

An’ very likely rings a bell,

When a’ things suit it,

(An’ if there’s ran, ye’ll find yersel’


Ye Powers wha made Mankind your care,

When folks an’ cameras baith were square

Destroy this plastic Tupperware,

An’ junk unholy.

An’ if ye wish oor gratefu’ prayer

Gi’e us - a Rollei



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