  IN EXPIATION Thou dear and gracious town, where I Have sojourned for a fleeting spell, The hour has come that bids me fly; Edina, fare thee well! Right heavy am I that we must part, For lo, I know not where or when I’ve met so—down, poor fluttering heart!— And more agreeable men. Forgive me that I spake in haste Winged words that I would fain forget; Thy welcome seemed in doubtful taste, And I was very wet! But rather hold his memory dear, Whose sunny presence brought thee forth The finest weather of the year, And warmed the watery North. Now onward speeds the busy train, O hospitable town and kind, Farewell! Until I come again, I leave my heart behind. Follower (at the tail of the procession). “E—h, d’ye see yon wee Tam M‘Gowkie the-r-re! He maun be i’ th’ front, ye ken, whatever’s gaun on!” His Companion. “I’ the front! Aye, mun”—(viciously)—“he’d be i’ the hea-arse if he could!” Give every man his due, and his Mountain Dew if he claims it. Model. “Fine day, sir.” Painter (aghast). “Fine—good heavens, man! Where’s your beard? What have you done to your face?” Model. “Me, sir? Naethin, but just made my whiskers a wee thing decent wi’ the shears.” Painter. “Then you’re an utterly ruined man, sir! and I’m very sorry for you. You’re not worth twopence. Good morning.” |
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