THE FERRY FAIR POEM
Whit is a the fuss aboot
Whitever`s goin doon
The place is in a ferment
There`s a buzz aboot the toon
Men are climin ladders
Stringin lines o flags
An hingin muckle banners
That they`re pullin oot o bags
There`s kids haudin paper sheets
Wearin oot their shoes
Runnin frae one shop tae anither
While their mithers gie them clues
There`s a prickly figure a in green
Stumblin roon the place
Sic a sight ye`ve never seen
like a man frae ooter space
And noo I hear the skirl o pipes
As doon the hill they stride
Led bi a weel kent Ferry lad
Wearin his uniform wi pride
He`s ringin his bell as he leads them on
Could ony man be prooder
An is that a pair o brand new boots
hingin ower his shooder?
An here`s a wifie fair done up
In a smert new dress for Summer
Haudin the airm o a muckle lad
-He must be heid bummer!
Noo its the bairns lookin grand
In their pretty frock or kilt
As they march behind the band
Tae the platform – jist new bilt
There`s the queenie oan her seat
An the herald speerin loud
Then the bows an curtsies neat
Tae delight the cheerin crowd
A richt braw day it`s turnin oot
Could onybody ask for mair
Whit is a the fuss about
– Och it`s anither Ferry Fair!
John Watson 2009