Noo, I ken an auld man wi’
His muffler a’ scraggy.
He aye needs a shave,
An’ his troosers are baggy…
Still, yince he wis somebody’s laddie!
He shuffles an’ snuffles,
An’ wheezes an’ hacks.
He’s beery and ‘ bleary;
The graces he lacks.
Aye, it’s lang time since he wis a laddie!
Odd times I stert thinkin’:
At his time o’ life
He looks awfie trauchled,
Die he hae a wife –
Or wis he jist somebody’s laddie?
He gaes his ain errands,
Day in an’ day oot;
Ayewis gies me a smile,
An a greetin’ tae boot.
Puir auld sowl that wis somebody’s laddie!
I feel kin’ o’ sorry,
Each time that I see
That shauchlin’ wee chiel
Wi’ the watery e’e,
Fer – shair, he wis somebody’s laddie!
He’s wabbit and glaiket;
Smokes baccy ower strang,
(He’s aften half jugged –
Whae’s tae say that he’s wrang?
Mind this: he wis somebody’s laddie!)
He’s a naebody really;
Non-sterter, ye ken.
An’ – naw, that’s no richt noo,
It cannae be, when…
Yince, he wis somebody’s laddie!
February 1975.
