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He led Gladys by way of Poosie Nancie's tavern, showed her its classic interior, and then, turning into a little narrow lane, pointed out the cottage where he and her father had been boys together. It was the girl's turn to be silent.

And so I read, at the foot of gorgeously-illuminated pages, how "Henny Penny and Ducky Lucky got started for the fair, When Goosie Poosie and Turkey Lurkey went out to view the air," etc., the range of characters swiftly widening as the narrative increased in power. To my surprise, the mature child listened to this nonsense with the utmost gravity and interest.

Galbraith says there's as muckle drink drucken in Poosie Nancie's on Seterday nicht as in Johnnie Shields' in the Wynd, but some way it seems different. Look, see, thonder's the big gate o' Bourhill. Eh, I wonder if Miss Gladys is hame? 'I say, Teen, ye are very fond o' her, surely? said Liz curiously. 'Since when? Ye didna like her sae weel that nicht I left ye to tak' her hame frae the Ariel.

For the poem is a unity. We see those vagabonds for a moment's space holding high revel in Poosie Nansie's; but in that brief glance we see them from their birth to their death.

A hundred years ago it had some farms, and was a fair enough patrimony, but it's all squandered long syne. 'How? 'Oh, drink and gambling, and such-like. My grandfather, David Graham, kent the taste of Poosie Nancie's whisky too well to look after his ain, and it slipped through his fingers like a knotless thread.