Laird of Gunbower

To The “Laird” of Gunbower
      (with apologies}

There is a young man of Gunbower
Who cultivates wheat for flour,
            When he looks for some sport
            At a seaside resort
He’ll sit with his rod by the hour.

If he catches a decent sized fish
He swings it around with a swish
            With the hope that a fin
            To a pal will stick in
For to add to the sport is his wish.

Other branches of sport he’ll pursue
Note his delicate touch with a cue
            But it costs him two bob
            When he’s not on the job
And his scores are distressingly few!

They say he’s a keen canny Scot
But on evidence that is all rot,
            If you look where he’s been
            There is sure to be seen
A heap of his duds, he’s forgot!

Written about Vic Stirling

by his Father-in Law