Poems and Songs

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.




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