Doon the Burn.

Doon the Burn.

Doon the burn mam that’s
where we are gaun, an a
canny take the wee yin a’ll
be gaun too long.

There’s just me Wullie an
Jim mam, naw we’ll noa git
in tae bother, naw a canny
mam don’t make me tak
ma brother.

Daunner doon Hillhouse
Road an then ower the fence,
watch an noa snag yir breeks
it widna mak much sense.

Nae thochs o’ any polluted
streams entered oor wee
heeds, we wir fu o’ pirate
ships an fighting dastardly
deeds.

Building up a dam tae mak a
swimming pool, but it only
rose another foot I felt like
such a fool.

Wullie an I were chucking
stanes across the dammed
up pond, wan hit a wee wasps
bike then wan stung ma haun.

Then Wullie filled a pocket
wi mare o’ they wee stanes,
shinned up the tree, a said
It’s aw yir ain the blame.

The rest is confined tae
history aye Wullie he fell
doon, covered he wis in
stings frae his erse tae
his croon.

Wi tried our best tae suck
thim oot o’ his airms and his
legs, a wisnae fur daen the
middle bit he kin dae his
ain wee peg.

Wullie wis wupped aff tae
hospital tae get him some
Jabs, just because we hud
saved him we goat
Sherbet Dabs.

Written for Historic  Hamilton by

Kit Duddy