Laughter from a Cloud By Walter Raleigh with a foreword by Hilary Raleigh |
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TO PROFESSOR H. A. STRONG, LL. D. |
 | Laughter from a Cloud |  |
219
TO PROFESSOR H. A. STRONG, LL. D.
24th November 1900
Dear Strang,
On this your natal day,
We Glaisgie bodies wish to say
We're sorry that we canna gae
That far to see ye;
But though oor bodies here maun stay,
In hairt we're wi' ye.
We Glaisgie bodies wish to say
We're sorry that we canna gae
That far to see ye;
But though oor bodies here maun stay,
In hairt we're wi' ye.
The Northern clans, wi' pipes and drones—
The “Scotswhahaes” and brave “Hechmons,”
The “Hootsawas” and “Sodascones”—
Are here thegither;
And ilka ane in joyful tones
Proclaims you brither.
The “Scotswhahaes” and brave “Hechmons,”
The “Hootsawas” and “Sodascones”—
Are here thegither;
And ilka ane in joyful tones
Proclaims you brither.
We're fine and glad ye didna scorn
The fashious wark o' being born,
Whilk wad ha' left us sair forlorn;
But noo—Losh guide us!—
Ye're fand, this braw November morn,
On airth beside us.
The fashious wark o' being born,
Whilk wad ha' left us sair forlorn;
But noo—Losh guide us!—
Ye're fand, this braw November morn,
On airth beside us.
220
'Twas in this toun ye first assayed
The ancient gerund-grinding trade,
Wi' Latin in a spune ye gaed
The fowk to feed them;
And eh! the bonny jokes ye made—
Deil kens wha seed them!
The ancient gerund-grinding trade,
Wi' Latin in a spune ye gaed
The fowk to feed them;
And eh! the bonny jokes ye made—
Deil kens wha seed them!
Oor thochts hae dwalt upon you aft,
The climate's turned a wee thing saft,
Oor college noo wi' gowks is staffed,
Wi' gomerals deevit;
But, Lord be praised! there's Heaven alaft,
And here, Glenleevit.
The climate's turned a wee thing saft,
Oor college noo wi' gowks is staffed,
Wi' gomerals deevit;
But, Lord be praised! there's Heaven alaft,
And here, Glenleevit.
In Scotlan' nane need droop or dwine;
For them that feels their stren'th decline
The certain cure (it's just divine)
Each year returns
(Whilk mony a lassie had lang syne)
—A nicht wi' Burns.
For them that feels their stren'th decline
The certain cure (it's just divine)
Each year returns
(Whilk mony a lassie had lang syne)
—A nicht wi' Burns.
We twa hae strayed ower Brownlow Hill,
And pu'd lang faces on the sill,
While toddling ben to yon auld mill
That still plays clatter;
—And auld Mackay is there, and still
As daft's a hatter.
And pu'd lang faces on the sill,
While toddling ben to yon auld mill
That still plays clatter;
—And auld Mackay is there, and still
As daft's a hatter.
221
Lang may the flags o' Bedford Street
Resound beneath your honoured feet!
Lang may ye hauld your annual treat
For a' the leddies!
Lang may ye flout and jink and cheat
The Laird o' Hades!
Resound beneath your honoured feet!
Lang may ye hauld your annual treat
For a' the leddies!
Lang may ye flout and jink and cheat
The Laird o' Hades!
| Laughter from a Cloud | |