By Simon Brown

Auld Broon's most famous poem where he writes about his own funeral.

By clicking on the speaker below, you can hear Auld Broon reciting verse No.1 of this ode. An MP3 player is required.  This recording is reproduced with kind permission of Gibson Ross of Ross Records, Turriff.



Aul' Broon he's deid, he's weel awa,
Fae a' the strikes an' frost an' sna',
Fae a' this VAT an' income tax,
Broon thocht it wis time that he'd relax.



Then the minister started tae pray and preach,
That the Kingdom of God aul' Broon wid reach,
An' the congregation they made the rafters ring,
As the Barnyards o' Dalgety they did sing.

2. Noo Doctor Black come doon tae see,
Fit wye aul' Broon 'e had tae dee,
He said 'at there was little doot,
Auld Broon's time had jist run oot.


10. Noo they cairy't Broon oot very slow,
Load' him onto the hearse an' wis ready tae go,
Fan a mannie cam doon through Foggie toon,
An' said they've load' Broon in there upside doon.
3. But he said it could have been inflation,
For it had crippled a' the nation,
If the whisky hadna been sae dear,
Broon could hae lived anither year.


11. Then Hans an' he's hearse got a' raivelt up,
Run intae the back o' a tractor load a' muck,
Bit though Hans he was a bitty late,
Aul Broon had plenty time tae wait.
4. An' the price of coal was bound tae rocket,
Tae put a hunner pound in the miner's pocket,
In the Hydro Board Broon had lost a' faith,
As he sat in Foggie an' stairved tae death.


12. Then Patty Tewnion howket doon,
Tae get a hole that'd hud aul' Broon,
An' he trampit him doon wi stanes and clay,
An' he says look Broon, ye're here tae stay.
5. Folk said Broon could hae died a' fear,
That there'd be three pence go on tae the price a' beer,
An' the Woodbines they could go sky high,
So poor aul' Broon was forced tae die.


13. Now fin the folk they a' stood aroon Broon's grave,
An' the minister he did yap an' rave,
He could a' saved his precious win',
Broon didna hear a bloody thing.
6. Then Durno he worked the the clock richt roon',
Tae mak a box that wid haud auld Broon,
An' intae it auld Broon was stappit,
An' with sax inch nails the lid wis chappit.


14. An' fin Broon got tae the pearly gate,
The angels they a' stood agape,
They said look Broon if you've got no tickets,
We canna let ye through the pickets.
7. Now in Broon's will it was clearly stated,
That he didna wint tae be cremated,
Fur a' Broon's life he's haen cauld feet,
And he wis feart he widna stand the heat.


15. An' they said man ye ken far too much evil,
Ye'll go doon below an' bide wi the deevil,
There you'll meet all your cronies that boozed at the New Inn,
And the rest will be doon as we call them in.
8. So it's tae the kirk they took aul' Broon,
It wis the scandal of a' Foggie toon,
The folk a' said it wisna fair,
Fur it's the first Broon had been in there.
16. So come a' you fowk jist listen tae me,
As sure's you're living, you're sure tae dee,
An' nae metter in this world, fit ye dee,
You canna win, an' that ye'll see.

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Copyright Mrs E Henderson 2004
No part of this poem may be reproduced in any form without the prior permission of the copyright holder or Simon Brown's  family.

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