Rough Scan
 

 

 

 



 
        
       
        THE FANCY FAIR
         
         
        HEIGH ho!  
          It’s a’ bye noo—the Bazaar I mean.  
          Little did I think when I wis slumbering peacefully in my cradle—noo 
          a guid wheen years ago—that sich honours were in store for me.  
          The numbers o’ Duchesses an’ Countesses that shook hauns wi’ 
          me, ye widna believe, an’ every ane wis gledder than anither tae meet 
          me, for as one of them said, “It’s not your fault, Mr Kaye, that you’re 
          only a commoner — you might as well have been born a Duke — indeed you 
          are more benevolent and fatherly looking than many a Duke,” an’ indeed 
          that wis true enough, for as far as I saw the titled folk were jist 
          like any ither body.
        Betty thocht 
          at first that the leddies wid be a’ hinging roon wi’ diamonds, an’ hae 
          a wee black boy haudin’ up their dresses; an’ that the gentlemen wid 
          hae swords, an’ cockit hats, an’ medals, wi’ a flunkey walkin’ behin’, 
          carryin’ a goldheided cane an’ a bottle o’ lavender water.  
          At the Bazaar a Duke, a Marquis, an Earl an’ me gaed awa’ tae 
          hae a bottle o’ champagne, an’ ye widna ken ony difference in us — indeed 
          the waiter aye ca’d me “My Lord“ — an’ afterwards we had a smoke.  
          They had ceegaurs, an’ I had a wudden pipe, an’ I heard a lady 
          say, “Look at that old Duke how unaffected he is — smoking a common 
          wooden pipe - an’ what a noble profile!  
          It’s so easy to recognise blue blood.  
          How different he looks from our pinchbeck gentry.” 
        I, of course, said naethin’, but it pleased me rale weel tae 
          be a Duke if it wis only for one day.
        Betty wis ane 
          a’ the ladies at the Saltcoats an’ Stra’bungo stall.  She was dressed as a Bavarian peasant, whaurever they come frae 
          — someway aboot Jamaica they tell me — an’ she wis tae see that the 
          young Countesses attended tae their business, an’ made as mony sales 
          as possible.  When I arrived 
          tae help them, a’ the ladies—an’ there 
          wis some o’ them gey bonnie – cried oot, “Here’s the dear old man,” 
          an’ then jist as I had been Abra’m, they fell on my neck an kissed me.  I wis quite ashamed – afore sae mony folk – 
          but a Duke tell’t me that thae titled folk were feer in their manners 
          than commoners.
        My duty wis 
          tae sit in below the coonter taking the things oot o’ the boxes, wrapping 
          them up in paper, and handing them to the Countesses tae sell.  It wis hard work, but my heart wis in it, an’ 
          I sat in as sma’ a space as ever I sat in in a’ my life before.  It wis tryin’ tae my back, an’ sair on my legs, 
          but I sat an’ whustled intae mysel’, an’ as I wrapped up the nichtcaps 
          an’ bottles o’ scent tae be ready for the customers, I chuckled at the 
          thocht o’ hoo we were nailing them.  
          Having been ance young mysel’, I had great feelings for the leddies 
          when a young man stopped tae talk tae them, an’ I never listened, but 
          “cooried” doon weel oot a’ sicht an’ took oot a sandwich, an’ as I took 
          a bite an’ heard some sweet nonsense whispered, I wid sae tae mysel’, 
          “Aha, my man, that’s anither sixpence,” for I noticed it cost them jist 
          aboot sixpence a compliment.
        I had tae keep 
          seeven ladies gaun, so sometimes, as ye may guess, I made mistakes, 
          whiles haunding up a Noah’s ark instead o’ a pincushion, an’ a bairn’s 
          pinafore for an auld lady that wanted a pair o’ gloves; but man’ it 
          wis winnerfu’ hoo correct I wis, a’ things considered.
        “Mr Kaye, hand 
          me up a pair o’ slippers, please.  Oh, 
          dear, this is a black doll you have given me, and it wants a leg, too.”
        “That wis jist 
          the way I wis trying tae get it aff my hauns, because it wis damaged,” 
          says I; “tell them jist tae tak’ that or let it alane — when it’s for 
          charity, folk shouldna be owre particular.”
        “Oh, Mr Kaye, 
          here’s a ‘masher’ coming.  What 
          will I offer him?”
        “Weel,” I says, 
          “we’ve a hale boxfu’ o’ monkeys here — they go up the one side o’ the 
          stick, an’ heid foremost doon the ither — we must try an’ sell them 
          — here’s ane o’ them.”
        “I say, your 
          majesty, I mean my lord — tut, tut, I mean countess, I’ve tummled a 
          can o’ marmalade in among the fancy slippers.  
          What”-
        “Is Provost 
          Kaye here?” says a fine cheery voice; an’ wha wis this but the Duke 
          o’- I forget wha’s this he said he wis — there wis that many o’ them—but 
          he wis a Duke onyway — an’ when I crept oot an’ shook the sawdust oot 
          my hair, he put his arm through mine, and he says, “Come away, Provost; 
          Lord Tobermory and Sir Rodenick Macfaurlane are waiting for you to have 
          a gemmn at dominoes.”  And so awa’ we gaed, and we took a turn doon 
          the old village street first.  Man,
        BAILIE, if yon wis the way they used tae build the hooses they were 
          queer — such ups an’ doons an’ roonaboots, an’ sich wee peens o’ gless 
          that ye wad wunner hoe they could see oot at a’.  
          And they must have been very bad speller - they could hardly 
          spell the commonest word; they apelt the, 
          ye — but of course we a’ ken eddication 
          has made great strides since the Skule Board began.  Hooever, it wis an awfu’ crush, an’ we could 
          see naething, so we gaed awa intae a wee room, where the ither twa wis 
          waiting for us, an the Duke got in ceegaurs, an’ gied orders that we 
          werena tae be disturbed on ony accoont, short o’ the Queen hersel’ ca’ing.  So we sat and cracked awa’, an’ played for 
          a penny the gemm.
        “Colonel,” says 
          one o’ them tae me, “it’s a great pity you are not one of us — a man 
          of your talent would be a decided acquisition to our ranks.”
        “Ah, your Royal 
          Highness,” says I, “dinna craw sae crouse; thae Socialist chiels are 
          going tar mak’ short work o’ ye - a’ you that toil not, neither do you 
          spin — I’m no sure whether that’s in the Bible or in Shakespeare, but 
          it doesna matter — ye’ll hae tar succumb tae we toilers, wha, as Gladstone 
          says, aye, an’ as Joe Chamberlain says, are the salt o’ the earth.  
          Feel that arm“ — the Duke felt it — “that’s the arm o’ a self-made 
          man, wha has risen frae, I may say naething, to be a Provost, a Colonel 
          o’ the volunteers, an Elder, and I don’t know what a’.  But I hope I hiv a heart tae feel for ithers’ misfortunes, and if 
          ever Gladstone does get the better o’ ye, an’ puts ye oot o’ hoose an’ 
          ha’, if ye come any way near my hoose, I’ll aye hae a bed for ye, and 
          a wee bit tobacco, an’ a welcome.”
        “Come on, Provost, 
          it’s your turn — double nine, can ye follow that?”
        “I can,” says 
          I; and I did, BAILIE; and we played awa till I won fourpence frae the 
          Duke and tippenee frae each o’ the ither twa, and then the Duke sang 
          a comic song, an’ I gied a recitation, and Sir Roderick played a breakdoon 
          on the tambourine, an’ a’ this put such life into us that Lord Tobermory 
          got up on the table and danced “the Sailor’s Hornpipe,” and a bright 
          thocht struck me, so I gaed to the door an’ stuck up a notice—
         
        COMIC 
          SINGING, NEGRO MINSTRELSY, AN’ CLOG-DANCING
         
        By 
          the
         
        FOUR 
          PEARS OF THE RALM.
         
        ADMISSION 
          SIXPENCE.
         
        No 
          Waiting.  A Constant Succession 
          of Novelties.
         
        BAILIE, they 
          crooded intae us at sich a rate that we cleared a guid few pounds for 
          the bazaar.  Long may dukes an’ 
          bakers join hand in hand for the relief o’ the puir and afflicted.