Remembrance Day

Some one was singing

Up a twisty stair,

A fragment of a song,

One sweet, spring day,

When twelve o’clock was ringing,

Through the sunny square –

*‘There was a lad baith frank and free,

Cam’ doon the bonnie banks o’ Dee

Wi’ tartan plaid and buckled shoon,

An’ he’ll come nae mair to oor toon.’ –*

*‘He dwells within a far countree,

Where great ones do him courtesie,

They’ve gien him a golden croon,

An’ he’ll come nae mair to oor toon.’ –*

No one is singing

Up the twisty stair.

Quiet as a sacrament

The November day.

Can’t you hear it swinging,

The little ghostly air?-

Hear it sadly stray

Through the misty square,

In and out a doorway,

Up a twisty stair –

*Tartan plaid and buckled shoon,

He’ll come nae mair to oor toon.*