Ode tae GLESCA

Oh where is the Glasgow where I used to stay?
White, Wally closes done up wi' white clay.
Where you knew everybody, first floor to the third,
And to keep your door shut, was considered absurd.

Where are the weans that once played in the street?
Wi a Jorrie, a peerie, a gird wi' a cleat,
Can they still cadge a hudgie or dreep aff a dyke?
Play hunch cuddy hunch, kick the can and the like?

And where is the wee shop where I used tae buy
a quarter o' Totties, a tuppeny pie,
A bag o' broke biscuits, a wee sodie scone,
a wummin aye asked, how's yer Maw gettin on?

And where is the cludgie? that cosy wee cell.
The string fae the cistern. I remember it well.
Where I sat wi a caunle, and studied the rags,
A win for the Auld Firm, a loss fur the Jags.

Where is the tramcar that once did a ton?
doon the Great Western Road on the auld Yoker run.
The conductress aye knew how deal wi a nyaff,
If yer gaun, well cumoan if yer no, well gettaff.

I think o' the days o' my old tenement hame,
we've got fancy new hooses, but they're jist no the same.
I'll swap yer gizunders, flyovers and Jams,
fur a tuppeny ride on the old Partick Trams.

Gone is the Glesca that I used tae know
Big Wullie, wee Shooie, the Steamie, the Co.
The shilpa wee bachle, the glaikit big dreep
Yer baw’s on the slates and yer gas at a peep.

These days wurnae rosy, and money was tight,
The wages hauf finished on Saturday Night,
but still we came though it and weathered the ruts,
The reason was simple, our parents had guts.