Gowan

We twa hae run about the braes, and pou’d the gowans fine; But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit, sin' auld lang syne.

Upjohn wrote this slim volume, which, if you recall, was about preparatory schools, and in it, so Kipper tells me, said that the time spent in these establishments was the happiest of our lives. Ye Ed passed it on to Kipper for comment, and he, remembering the dark days at Malvern House, Bramley-on-Sea, when he and I were plucking the gowans fine there, slated it with no uncertain hand.

/ Like dew on the gowan lying / Is the fa' o' her fairy feet; / And like winds in summer sighing, / Her voice is low and sweet— / Her voice is low and sweet, / And she's a' the world to me, / And for bonnie Annie Laurie / I'd lay me doon and dee.