Lang syne I penned a verse or twa aboot a place I kent,
A place in which I bided and whaur tae schule I went,
The hielan's o' the city, at least that's whit I cried it;
Though ither pairts were unco braw they wee gey pale beside it.

Where is this place o' which I speak? Auld Springburn is its name!
Dear God, ye want tae see it noo: it's really no' the same;
The baths, the swings an' Hyde Park Works huv' a' quite disappeared
An' Springburn's greatly altered noo it's greatly tae be feared.

The ither day, doon by the Clyde, alang the Broomielaw,
I couldnae quite believe it an' my heart wis filled wi' awe;
The grotty buildin's that were there huv' a' noo been demolished
An' in their place are brand new flats, a' shiny, clean an' polished.

And in the middle o' the toon there's office blocks erected,
A' steel an' windaes by the score, no' quite whit I'd expected
But, thankfully, there's still some aulder anes remain
'Cos I like their architecture; see thae new anes? They're a pain!

The changin' face o' Glasgow has inspired this ramblin' verse;
Auld buildin's noo huv' been pulled doon for better or for worse;
I saw it in auld Springburn, the place whaur I did bide,
But progress has been rapid in this city by the Clyde.

It's grand tae ca' the memory o' childhood back again,
But no' sae grand tae see the things we mind a' sadly gane
But nothin' steys the same for lang: we're noo sophisticated
But is it whit we wanted? Dae we love it? Dae we hate it?

The tartan Tallie

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