Poems and Songs

The One o'Clock Gun 

What gars the Embro’ man feel prood?

When a’ is said ad dune

It’s no St Giles or Holyrood

but thon big, noisy gun

He’s staundin there in Princes Street

No makin ony fuss,

But richt at Allan Ramsay’s feet

He’s waitin for the bus

When, wow, he gies an unco sterth

Lowps bait feet aff the grun

And by the duntin o’ his hert

He kens he’s heard the gun

Then as the collieshangie stills,

He hears anither soun’

As doos frae a’ the windo-sills

Flee up and circle roun’

But he pretends he disna care;

He thinks it splendid fun

To launch at ony stranger there

That’s frichtened by the gun.

And as he gangs his couthy way

He feels baith glad and prood

That Embro’s gun bangs aff at one

And soun’s sae monstrous lood!

Douglas Fraser



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