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THEIR LAUREATE TO AN ACADEMY CLASS DINNER CLUB
Dear Thamson class, whaure'er I gang
It aye comes ower me wi' a spang:
"Lordsake! they Thamson lads—(deil hang
Or else Lord mend them!)—
An' that wanchancy annual sang
I ne'er can send them!"
Straucht, at the name, a trusty tyke,
My conscience girrs ahint the dyke;
Straucht on my hinderlands I fyke
To find a rhyme t' ye;
Pleased—although mebbe no pleased-like—
To gie my time t' ye.
