Intercessional

Lines written on the occasion of the farewell dinner to President
George R. Thorne at Midlothian, September 30, 1899.

(With apologies to R-dy-rd K-pl-ng.)

Our President, on pleasure bent

Your steps toward foreign shores are turning. All anxious we that you should be

Faithful to us, all others spurning. And so, in tears, these lines are writ, Lest you fergit, lest you fergit.

St. Andrews' links were proud, methinks,
Our worthy President to greet.
But I'm of mind that you will find

Their Bogey's just as hard to beat.
This fact will cause us deep regret;
We would forget, could we forget.

In gay Paree we all agree

There's fascinating sights and sounds.
Our confidence in you's intense;

Be careful! don't play out of bounds!
Sometimes we do things we regret
And can't forget-and can't forget.

And if so be a ball you tee

Upon old Cheops' summit hoar, Just let your drive the thought revive

Of how you made the "Knoll" in four! To tell of that delights us yet. We'll not forget-we'll not forget.

Upon the sand of India's strand,
Or Himalaya's heights beyond,
The whirring ball to mind recall;
The fearsome shot across the pond.
That dreadful pond that is so wet!
Who can forget-who can forget!

Remember Shedd, upon whose head

Your crown now falls with fitting grace. Of you bereft, there's none that's left Who can so nearly fill your place. While Shedd is here you need not fret. He won't forget-he won't forget.

Forget not Farr, whose watchwords are

Midlothian, and the Club's finances !" Who spends his days devising ways

Of separating facts from fancies. It's always safe on Farr to bet.

You won't forget-please don't forget.

Intercessional

There's Goodman, too, whose name rings true.
The house he's carried on his shoulder.
He shows no wear from carking care,

And never grows a minute older.

To him the members owe a debt
None can forget-none can forget.

Our worthy Judge, who would not budge
So long as Jim would help him run it.
They stay right by though others fly;
"They seen their duty and they done it."
A worthier pair you never met.
You can't forget-must not forget.

There's Harry Taft, who's nearly daft
With writing notices and minutes;
Our Secretary, so excellent, very,

Is always most distinctly "in it."
He fills his job like any "vet."
We've never known him to forget.

A Scottish king, so poets sing,
Was by a Wallace overthrown.
Behold the token of records broken

By Wallace whom we call our own.
He surely is Midlothian's pet.
Will you forget? You can't forget.

I I

So fare you well, and speed you fair!
Our hearts will ever with you be.
What wonder our dejected air?
Midlothian's Pa is over sea.
In spirit we'll be with you yet.
We never, never, can forget.

Elegy on a Country Golf Links

Lines written for the Harvest Home Dinner at Midlothian,
October 14, 1899.

The 'bus-gong tolls the knell of parting day,
The slow steam-roller crawls athwart the lea,
The caddie homeward wends his weary way,

And leaves the world to darkness and to me.

Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds,

Save where the golf-ball wheels its whirring flight, And muttered cuss-words float across the wolds.

Beneath those spreading elms, that burr-oak's shade,

Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering

heap,

Each in the bunker where his hopes were laid,
The hopeless duffers of the golf-club sleep.

The breezy call of incense-breathing morn,
The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed,
Boss Cock's shrill whistle, or the megaphone,

No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.