Nae Quarter


Roon O



Wah Wah

Heid like a neep

Waarm and wee

Pink bud asleep

Oan wur tree.


Here Ah strunt, the warld’s room’s mine

Richt on sang, gallus, free!

Ah’ve aw the plans an aw the time

A dizzen cities beckon me

A score o different weys tae wend

A hunnert fowk tae mak ma freen.

A thoosand new-farrant thochts tae send!

The heichs are blue, the glens are green.


Ah ken bi noo Ah’m likely through

The middle merk that ligs atween

Though sun’s still high, twaloors is by

The morra rings in douce yestreen

An yet, as Ah gang sloomin doon

Fae salad days tae glen o greetin

Ilk morn wi rosy hope is croonit

The daw yet sends the grey cluds fleetin.


And noo, hauf-hoodit in the haar o Time

The Baddies come ridin in ower the faur lea.

They’re aye in the distance, a blearie wee line

Kickin up sic a stour, they hide fae the ee.

Ah noo an again gliff them; they’re ilka ane there

Arthritis, Angina, the aul Werr and Terr.

Their daithly braith jeels me, Ah tell masel, Naw,

A wee tummy twang, it’s naethin ava,

Jist a wee sniffle, whaur’s the cough cure?

Need a new telly, soond’s affa puir

Nae faur intae gloamin, nae muckle tae fear,

But naethin’s mair siccar and naethin’s mair clear

Amang thae pale riders a black-hattit ane

Has whittled lang syne ma name on his gun.


Was coorie in

Canna lang last

Nae muckle future

Bit …..whit a graun past!



Mary McCabe

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