Whit wey does the engine say Toot-toot?
Is it feart to gang in the tunnel?
Whit wey is the furnace no pit oot
When
the rain gangs doon the funnel?
What’ll I hae for my tea the nicht?
A
herrin’, or maybe a haddie?
Has Gran’ma gotten electric licht?
Is
the next stop Kirkcaddy?
There’s a hoodie-craw on yon
turnip-raw!
An’ sea-gulls! — sax or seeven.
I’ll no fa’ oot o’ the windae,
Maw,
It’s sneckit, as sure as I’m leevin’.
We’re into the tunnel! we’re a’
in the dark!
But dinna be frichtit, Daddy,
We’ll sune be comin’ to Beveridge
Park,
And the next stop’s Kirkcaddy!
Is yon the mune I see in the sky?
It’s awfu’ wee an’ curly.
See! there’s a coo and a cauf ootbye,
An’ a lassie pu’in’ a hurly!
He’s chackit the tickets and gien
them back,
Sae gie me my ain yin, Daddy.
Lift doon the bag frae the luggage
rack,
For the next stop’s Kirkcaddy!
There’s a gey wheen boats at the
harbour mou’,
And eh! dae ye see the cruisers?
The cinnamon drop I was sookin’ the
noo
Has tummelt an’ stuck tae ma troosers
I’ll sune be ringin’ ma Gran’ma’s
bell,
She’ll cry, ‘Come ben, my laddie.’
For I ken mysel’ by the queer-like
smell
That the next stop’s Kirkcaddy!’
