ODE TAE GLESGA
Oh where is the Glasgow where I used to stay?
White, wally closes done up wi' pipe clay,
Where you knew everybody, first floor to third,
And to keep your door shut was considered absurd.
Where are the weans that once played in the street?
Wi' a wee jorrie, a peerie, a gird wi' a cleet,
Can they still cadge a hudgie or drap aff a dyke,
Play hunch cuddy hunch, kick the can, and the like?
And where is the wee shop where I used tae buy,
A quarter o' totties, a tuppenny pie?
A bag o' broke biscuits, a wee sodie scone,
An' the wumman aye asked, "how's yir maw gettin on"?
And where is the cludgie?, that cozy wee cell?
The string fae the cisten. I remember it well.
Where I sat wi' a caunle, and studied the rags,
A win fer the Auld Firm, a loss for the Jags.
Where is the tramcar that once done a ton?
Doon Great Western Road on the ol' Yonkers run.
The conductress aye knew how ta' deal wi' the nyaff,
"if yer gaun, weil cumoan,-- if yer no, weil gittaff".
I think o' the days of the tenement hame,
We've got fancy new hooses, but they're jist no the same.
I'll swap yer gizunders, flyovers and jams,
For a tuppenny ride on the old Partick trams.
Gone is the Glesga that I used to know.
Big Willie, Wee Shooie,the Steamie the Co.
The shilpa wee bachle, the glaikit big dreep,
Yer ba' on the slates and yer gas on a peep.
These days wurnae rosey, and money was tight,
The wages hauf finished by Setterday night,
But still we came through it and weathered the ruts,
The reason is simple, our parents had guts. (ANON)
