CAMBUSLANG

We hae a blythe and cosie den
Ayont the haunts o' Glesca men,
Where blackies loud their music sen'
In gleefu' sang
Alang the bonny Borgie glen
To auld Cam'slang.

Fain would ye bide gine ye but saw
The gowden brooms in masses blaw
And white-thorn sprays like wreaths o'snaw
Aboon the braes,
Where preachin'-wark stirred up them a'
In bygone days.

Oor Winter charms are grand an' free,
Against the lift the leafless tree
In arch and angle tak's the e'e
Wi' pictur swatches
The like o'whilk nae galleree
Of painter matches.

And we hae lads o'pairts and grace
To hand us up and state oor case,
Oor ain Wee Davie sets the pace
When ocht gaes wrang,
He'd e'en the King's High Council face
To help Cam'slang.

Ye'd marvel at the troops o'crows,
O' green peeweeps and landward maws,
That come ere come the Winter snaws
To Kirkburn Glen
To see toshed up in Sunday braws
Oor model men.

                                                              GEORGE MURRAY
                                                                "MILREOCH"