by: Mackie, Dr Lewis
The win’s aff the lan noo, far will we play?
Doon on the foreshore or roon by the bay?
Among the boats an anchors, the ropes ,the creels, the gear?
Up an doon the laidders an’ ontil the pier?
Paddlin the water’s edge, gaitherin up shells,
Floatin’ cork boaties wi’ feathers for their sails.
Fitba an’ roonders an takkie as weel
A lot better fun than bein’ at the squeel!
Noo the win is aff the sea, it’s caller an’ it’s grey.
Awa up tae the sanny hills an play the lea lang day.
Cowboys an’ Indians, sometimes hide an’ seek.
Bilin peasies eggs in tins an’ smorin wi’ the reek.
Up the smugglers’ lookoot, abeen the Corby shore
Doon the Rocket Roadie, a gran place tae explore.
Back along by Muddie’s an past the smiddy door.
Fa cares far the win is fan we hiv sea an’ moor.
Aye memories sweet memories they still come back tae me,
0’ a’ the ploys we hid as bairns in oor village by the sea.