Rejoice! ye sons o’ Blackburn toon
Ye hae your share o’ sage and loon,
But tho’ ye search it up and doon
Wi’ carefu’ look
There’s nae yin fit tae fill the shoon
O’ “Pennycook”

A pillar o’ the Lady pit
It’s safety on his shooders sit
For gaffers’ scowl, he cares nae whit
When rightin’ wrang.
Poor Anderson has oft been bit
Wi Davie’s fang.

Tho’ constant butt o’ freenly joke
Unsmilin’, Davie strains the yoke
Complacent as a weel-fed moke
Wi solemn face
Jist gie him some complaint tae poke
He’ll leave nae trace

Aye, Davie lad, your worth has proof
Ye neednae fear Rejection’s hoof
At votin’ time ye staun aloof
You’re past the post.
While ithers tremble at reproof
Or fear its ghost.

O’ pit inspectors you’re the cream
An’ safety first is aye supreme
Tae prostitute, ye wadnae dream
Your worthy part
Ye keep the laws in such esteem
We daurnae fart.

But tho’ you’re faur above oor heids
ln curbing managers’ misdeeds
Ye hae a wheen suspicious seeds
O’ human ills
Despoilin’ Virtue wi’ the weeds
Oor nature tills

lf you wad hae a wee bit tact
When comin’ ower some byegone fact
Wi’ you the hero o’ the act
The truth it begs
As when, some goalie, by impact
Ye broke his legs.

The tales are legion o’ your guile
Ye outdo “Ripley” wi’ your style
He marshalls fact wi Truth in file
“Believe-or not”
But Davie lad, when you compile
We need some saut.

Don’t take my reprimand too sair
Your faut is hermless, an’ whit’s mair
I wish some ithers, in whose care
Oor trust is laid
Wi’ your sincerity compare
Distrust wad fade.