The Laddie Frae East Wemyss
by Jock Turpie
The Wemyss has aye been famous for its castles and its lairds,
Its ruins and past histories o’ kail and ither yairds,
But still mair famous it’s become, admired throughout the land,
For in the Wemyss was born and bred a chao ca’d Jimmy Shand.
I met him at the puir hoose, aye twenty years ago,
A striplin’ he was awfy blate and sweer tae mak’ his bow,
But on the stage he trampit, man, the fingerin’ wis grand,
I could see the hallmark stampit on that laddie, Jimmy Shand.
He’s playing tae the auld folk, yet a million fans he’s got,
Whaurever there’s a wireless set, whaurever there’s a Scot,
The pensioner, his crookit stick becomes a magic wand,
As he chaps the flair and whistles, keeping time tae Jimmy Shand.
He has scored o’ imitators, but they dinna hae the lilt,
They remind you o’ a piper on the mairch without his kilt,
But tae him it’s a’ sae simple, and it tickles up the gland,
When ye hear auld ‘Kate Dalrymple’ introducin’ Jimmy Shand.
So let’s forget oor troubles, nae matter hoo we feel,
Pit on a record lassie, and we’ll hae the Eightsome Reel,
Life’s no’ the problem it wid seem, if we could jist understand,
So tak’ your partners and bless The Wemyss fur gie’in us Jimmy Shand.
Box and Fiddle
Feb 2001
by Jock Turpie
The Wemyss has aye been famous for its castles and its lairds,
Its ruins and past histories o’ kail and ither yairds,
But still mair famous it’s become, admired throughout the land,
For in the Wemyss was born and bred a chao ca’d Jimmy Shand.
I met him at the puir hoose, aye twenty years ago,
A striplin’ he was awfy blate and sweer tae mak’ his bow,
But on the stage he trampit, man, the fingerin’ wis grand,
I could see the hallmark stampit on that laddie, Jimmy Shand.
He’s playing tae the auld folk, yet a million fans he’s got,
Whaurever there’s a wireless set, whaurever there’s a Scot,
The pensioner, his crookit stick becomes a magic wand,
As he chaps the flair and whistles, keeping time tae Jimmy Shand.
He has scored o’ imitators, but they dinna hae the lilt,
They remind you o’ a piper on the mairch without his kilt,
But tae him it’s a’ sae simple, and it tickles up the gland,
When ye hear auld ‘Kate Dalrymple’ introducin’ Jimmy Shand.
So let’s forget oor troubles, nae matter hoo we feel,
Pit on a record lassie, and we’ll hae the Eightsome Reel,
Life’s no’ the problem it wid seem, if we could jist understand,
So tak’ your partners and bless The Wemyss fur gie’in us Jimmy Shand.
Box and Fiddle
Feb 2001