The Grant Street Boys
(Mrs) Eleanor Smith
  • Early 1940s

  • Through my open windie comes the soun',
  • The Grant Street boys are comin' doon,
  • The noise grows loud as they draw near,
  • Childish voices shrill and clear
  • As they come marchin' past the gate,
  • I hear their leader cryin, "Keep straight"
  • My eyes behold a graun procession,
  • A credit to the British Nation.
  • Ane bangs his drum wi' mich an' main,
  • Ane toots his trumpet wi' great strain;
  • Ae laddie waves his flag wi' pride,
  • An drags a trainie by his side;
  • Some hae larries, some hae trailers,
  • Some are cowboys, some are sailers,
  • Ane is a soldier wi' a gun,
  • (Twas him that made the Jerries run).
  • Ane is a pilot looking braw,
  • Anither gies his pipes a blaw.
  • An trailin' slow, but sure ahin,
  • Are quinnies lauchin' at the din.
  • They wheel their prams, they jump an' skip,
  • An aften gie the laddies lip.
  • The laddies roar, "Giwa you quines,
  • Ye're spilin a' oor bonnie lines."
  • Syne they're abolished frae the ranks,
  • (Quines are aye deein' silly pranks).
  • (Aye laddies, ye're the boss the noo,
  • When she grows up, this day ye'll rue).
  • They a' turn at the foot o' the street,
  • Ae laddie fa's an' starts tae greet,
  • He rins bawlin' tae his mam.
  • She looks tae see wha's hit her lamb
  • Up past my gate they thump an' bang
  • An' thus they play the hale day lang,
  • Aye laddies ye'll growe tae be men
  • An long for such days back again.
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