Oor Wullie’s Picthur

Did ye hear that aboot oor Wullie?

He was up in Bilfast last week,

An’ his shedda wus tuck wae a spy gless,

A declare ye wud think it cud speak.

Ye niver saw onything like it.

Jeest yisterday — what dae ye think? —

His sweetheart cum in fur tae see it.

An’ she sade that his e’e gee’d a wink.

Noo. Wullie’s a guid-luckin’ fella —

He’s jeest a year oot o’ his teens —

An’ the picthur wus tuck up in High Street,

Jeest next daur tae Forster Green’s.

Roon the daur there’s a hale lot o’ picthurs,

Inside a gless case, they’re stuck,

Guid-lukin’ lasses an’ sojers,

An’ ye’ll see Wullie’s there if ye luck.

The man that has tuck a’ these picthurs

Haes a nice wunnin’ wie o’ his ain,

He shows ye sae much o’ his kindness

Till yer no very share whut yer daen’.

There’s naithin sae nice is a picthur,

Bit some ir a perfect disgrace;

If ye want tae mak share that it’s like ye,

Then Mr. McBRIDE’S is the place.