s and set to a hymn
tune, a somewhat ribald production. Mhor then volunteered the
information that Mrs. M'Cosh could sing a song. Mrs. M'Cosh said, "Awa
wi' ye, laddie," and "Sic havers," but after much urging owned that she
knew a song which had been a favourite with her Andra. It was sung to
the tune of "When the kye come hame," and was obviously a parody on that
lyric, beginning:

"Come a' ye Hieland pollismen
That whustle through the street,
An' A'll tell ye a' aboot a man
That's got triple expansion feet.
He's got braw, braw tartan whuskers
That defy the shears and kaim:
There's an awfu' row in Brigton
When M'Kay comes hame."

It went on to tell how:

"John M'Kay works down in Singers's,
He's a ceevil engineer,
But his wife's no verra ceevil
When she's had some ginger-beer.
When he missed the last Kilbowie train
And had to walk hame lame,
There wis Home Rule wi' the poker
When M'Kay cam hame."

Mrs. M'Cosh sang four verses and stopped, in spite of the rapturous
applause of a section of the audience.

"There's aboot nineteen mair verses," she explained "an' they get kinna
worse as they gang on, so I'd better stop," which she did, to Jean's
relief, for she saw that her guests were feeling that this was not an
entertainment such as the Best People indulged in.

"And now Miss Bathgate will sing," said Mhor.

"I will not sing," said Miss Bathgate. "I've mair pride than make a fool
o' mysel' to please folk."

"Oh, come on," Jock begged. "Look at Mrs. M'Cosh!"

Miss Bathgate snorted.

"Ay," said Mrs. M'Cosh, with imperturbable good-humour, "she seen me,
and she thinks yin auld fool is enough at a time. Never heed, Bella,
juist gie us a verse."

Miss Bathgate protested that she knew no songs, and had no voice, but
under persuasion she broke into a ditty, a sort of recitative:

"Gang further up the toon, Geordie Broon, Geordie Broon,
Gang further up the toon, Geordie Broon:
Gang further up the toon
Till ye's spent yer hale hauf-croon,
And then come singin' doon,
Geordie Broon, Geordie Broon."

"I remember that when I was a child," Jean said. "We used to be put to
sleep with it; it is very soothing. Thank you so much, Miss Bathgate
... Now I think we should have a game."

"Forfeits," Miss Teenie suggested.

"That's a silly game," said Mhor; "there's kissing in it."

"Perhaps we might have a quiet game," Jean said. "What was that one