You've heard
the tale how Robin Hood
Came riding through the glen
His merry men were not a match
For Kilwinning Number Ten
Like a bank of border reivers
They came sweeping to the toon
The keepers in the castle even
Locked up Scotia's Croon
And on their way they passed
through
A place called Little France
Their piper gie’d his bag a
squeeze
And led them in a dance
Some local chiels were sair
afraid
And did’na hae a bash
They took exception to a tune
We know it as the sash
For they’re wild men from
that south land
Where miners oft tell
Of how the Lodge gave shelter to
A dame called Eskimo Nell
Just by the Lodge, a graveyards
stands
'Twas there, Nell got her licks
They chased her round the
tombstones
Waving the Deacons’ sticks
Some years ago along they came
With a good sized deputation
To visit the cream in Number
Eight
And caused a sensation
They missed the door and round
the street
These heroes gaily went
Marched into St Patrick's
Just imagine, it was Lent
Yes ! They’re heroes from
that bare land
Where the ale they brew is
strong
And when they work the third
degree
It lasts for three hours long
Perhaps sometime in the future
I shall maybe have the pleasure
To call at Dalkeith Number Ten
And have a drink at leisure
For o’er a year has passed
by since
Last you heard my rhymes
And at that time you promised me
A dram for auld lang syne
Your Lodge’s ancient
minutes record
A tale I know is true
You’re bound to grant a nip
To a brother wearing blue
So if I’m spared, I’ll
make a trip
To enjoy that dram
But heaven protect your worthy
steward
If he serves me up with spam
So accept my personal welcome
And all the cheese don’t
snaffle
I trust you’ve done your
duty
And supported our poor raffle |
