A Cosy Cluster - by Bob Auld

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Hughie
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A Cosy Cluster - by Bob Auld

Post by Hughie »

At Abbey Park you're maybe a foreigner
But not I'm sure in the Cosy Corner.
You're welcomed there with open arms
By local wags with dubious charms,
But let me hasten with an explanation
It's sure to cause a mild sensation,
For among the wags of doubtful fame
Is grumpy chuckling Gavin Graham.

Many decent folk, I've heard it said,
Get a start in life being Eglinton bred
But don't you gee your jilldy joint
For Gavin surely proves that point,
But just before I break your heart
Gavin's lost about half his start
One look at yon big hamely face
And many things fall into place,
And tho' I often feel like spewin
It also rhymes with Jock McEwan.

Beer and McEwan, names of renown,
Even tho' its the best beer in town,
It warms the heart of a drouthy chappie
And everyone gets so carefree and happy
But just before you burst with pride
Let's take another good look inside
I know I'm being kind of snoopy
But that's a noisy game of loopy.
Did you hear that heartrending sob,
That's our champion, Duncan Robb.
Robb o' the Dirrans, not the Rangers,
Tween the sticks laughing at dangers,
Another goal scored, another lost game,
It's just a plot to tarnish his name.
Don't every try passing back, please,
It might dirty his nice clean, knees,
Such grace when he jumps over puddle
You strangely want to give him a cuddle
But as a star is born, another has fallen
Just you ask auld Hughoc Allen.

Here you have one of the best,
One of the few that's stood the test
To age so gently must be an art.
His canty auld heart plays its part
The noble mein and sense of worth,
Those crinkly eyes dancing with mirth,
The auld heid with nature so mellow,
Where could you meet a nicer fellow.
But just a minute, what the heck,
I almost forgot young Jimmy Fleck.
Admire this man so gently and pure

Who robs the rich to give the poor,
Where can be found so noble a call,
Did you ever see anyone walk so tall.
You don't know? You must be a rookie
Everybody knows the benevolent bookie,
A peculiar species everybody agrees
All suffering from the same disease.
A tired wee hand unwilling to gift
And a greedy big mate eager to lift.

There, you've met the Cosy Cluster
Strolling thro' life without a fluster,
Champions all in his own right,
Unless of course you want to fight,
Then all you see are five hauf backs
Trotting up towards Hell-Fire Jacks
But if you want to try your skill
They're the boys to fit the bill
At the darts three hundred and one
There you get some right good fun.

Darts are one of their many lines,
You ought to hear their moans and whines.
Gavin, cursing, misses the double top
McEwan on sixteens is just a flop,
Hughoc's effort cool and clean
Double eight as neat as a preen.
The crowd get ready to scatter and flee
As Robb he splits the double three
And watching overall like a hawk
Is Bookie Fleck on the chalk.

The Cosy Cluster, they're not new
Life throws together quite a few,
Their earthly tasks, great or small,
Have the deepest respect from all
Every day in their couthie heart
Where good or evil all must start,
The seed of hope is daily sown
And visions of joy are sweetly grown.
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