King o the Kingsway
by: Webster, Edwin
The Kingsway wis aye steerin wi a bourachie o laddies,
Aficionados o the screen, o Goodies an o Baddies.
The usher chargin up an doon an sprayin us wi stuff
’At gar Marlene Dietrich cry, ’’Mein Gott! Ach! Vot a guff!’’
The hero o my Setterdays, ’at braw loon, Errol Flynn,
Heid-bummer o aa Goodies, leavin aa the rest ahin.
He nivver stuck the heid in, or kickit someb’dy’s face,
He didna need sic dirty tricks t’ prove ’at he wis ace.
The greatest fechter o em aa, wi sword, or gun, or niv,
An wi a bow an arra, Min, the thiongs that he could div.
As Robin Hood or Capt’n Blood, or Gentleman Jim Corbett,
He nivir failed t’ send a pile o Baddies inta orbit.
’E cheers at echoed roon ’e place, fair bounced aff ivry wa,
Wi Errolk provin wun mair time, his wis the fastest dra.
As leed-filled corpses filled the screen, knee-deep, it seemed t’ me,
’At Errol Flynn, my hero, wid nivit, ivir, dee.
Alas, his feet wis made o clay, like ony mortal man,
The boozin an the weemin wis t’ shorten Errol’s span.
Bit aftimes I remember aa the thrills he brocht oor way,
His faithful fans, fa lived his life, if only for a day.