Tuesday, 18 August 2015

The Boy in the Train by Mary Campbell Smith

Whit wey does the engine say 'Toot-toot'?

 Is it feart to gang in the tunnel?

Whit wey is the furnace no pit oot 

When the rain gangs doon the funnel? 

What'll I hae for my tea the nicht?

A herrin', or maybe a haddie?

Has Gran'ma gotten electric licht? 

Is the next stop Kirkcaddy? 

There's a hoodie-craw on yon turnip-raw! 

An' seagulls! - sax or seeven. 

I'll no fa' oot o' the windae, Maw,

Its sneckit, as sure as I'm leevin'. 

We're into the tunnel! we're a' in the dark!

But dinna be frichtit, Daddy, 

We'll sune be comin' to Beveridge Park, 

And the next stop's Kirkcaddy! 

Is yon the mune I see in the sky?

 It's awfu' wee an' curly, 

See! there's a coo and a cauf ootbye, 

An' a lassie pu'in' a hurly! 

He's chackit the tickets and gien them back, 

Sae gie me my ain yin, 

Daddy. Lift doon the bag frae the luggage rack, 

For the next stop's Kirkcaddy! 

There's a gey wheen boats at the harbour mou', 

And eh! dae ya see the cruisers? 

The cinnamon drop I was sookin' the noo 

Has tummelt an' stuck tae ma troosers. . . 

I'll sune be ringin' ma Gran'ma's bell, 

She'll cry, 'Come ben, my laddie', 

For I ken mysel' by the queer-like smell 

That the next stop's Kirkcaddy! 

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