In the town of Auld Reekie, a-north of the border, As barmen were ringing their bells for last order, A young English couple a-visiting there Sat worried & wearied & troubled with care.
Though the ale was warm & the food steaming hot And the fire roared all homely, still something was not To their liking - the small child who sat by their side Caused them worry & woe that they could not abide.
For an ancient old man at a barstool nearby Gazed upon that young boy with a narrowing eye As he stroked a black cat nursing short cups of ale With his hair wiry red & his skin ashy pale.
For that old Scottish gent had took shine to that child, And he had such sore look on, ravaged & wild, That they feared his desires ran darkward & grim, So they held that babe tightly & safely from him.
'But he's such a cute nipper,' the old gent lamented, 'I want so to hold him, were it so consented For he makes me think of my own son so dear Who ago fell in war,' & a quivering tear
Trickled slow from his eye, drippled into his drink, Which gave the young mother's kind heart to think . . . She looked to the father, who softened alike Then she held forth toward the old man her wee tike:
'Oh, I know that you mean our baby no harm!' And she put the small child in his cradling arm. As Dad looked on, not without creepening fear, The man murmured softly in baby Tim's ear.
Timmy opened his eyes & he blinked at the Scot Who toothily grinned at the small English tot, The tiny thing gurgled, & giggled, & laughed, Dad shook his head sadly, 'I've been so daft!'
And he let go his foolish fears of Scots folk For now, through his child, they seemed but a joke. They smiled, & they cheered, the bad blood had passed, Dad took the man's hand & he gripped it fast,
Said: 'You're a Scot, you're a gent, you're a noble soul, And from this night hence I'll make it my goal To be wise, to be true, to be open to all, To welcome kind strangers whenever they call,
Be they Englanders, Scotlanders, Taffies or Paddies, They're all God's own folk, with mummies & daddies, Deserving the good faith of all human kin: To prejudge another's a terrible sin.'
And the Scot smiled, & laughed, & he put on his hat, And he finished his ale & he stroked the black cat, And he jiggled the child & it chuckled with glee, Its innocent joy was a pure sight to see.
And he raised Timmy up, & the babe cried out loud, And the parents & locals cried out too, all proud. The Scot stepped to the door, bid them all a good night, Then he ate that wee babby, just for spite.