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 gied his bag a
squeeze
And led them in a dance
Some local chiels were sair
afraid
And didna hae a bash
They took exception to a tune
We know it as the sash
For theyre 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 ! Theyre 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 oer 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 Lodges ancient
minutes record
A tale I know is true
Youre bound to grant a nip
To a brother wearing blue
So if Im spared, Ill
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 dont
snaffle
I trust youve done your
duty
And supported our poor raffle |