I thocht perhaps, dear editor,
Yer correspondent guid
Wud hardly hae deem’d it worth while
Tae answer my bit screed;
The melody she plays is sweet,
Save fur a note or twa,
Which I forgie as true an’ free
As I extend my pa’
Tae Eva G-reen

Noo, Eva, as yince mair I try
Tae write ye through the Press,
I feel that I am handicapped
Fur want o’ yer address;
An’ sae lang as the darkness hides
An’ keeps ye oot o’ sicht
It is nae fair nur roon nur square
Tae me in the clear licht
Miss Eva G-loom.

Hooiver, as regards my age
An’ my scarce silver hair,
I’m no yin bit asham’d o’ thim,
Sae lang as they ir fair;
But after whut ye wrote till me,
Al’ read bae monie folk
Tae turn aboot an’ mak it oot
Naethin’ but a bit joke
Miss Eva G-uile.

Ye speak aboot my wants an’ needs,
An’ chances fleein’ past;
That noo I shud freeze tae a mate
Afore the die is cast.
Please mind I’m no o’ hope bereft,
E’en yit I fandly dream;
I’ll wade across this river sune
Although I canna sweem
Miss Eva G-rab.

Hooiver, I am gled ye think
At least this much o’ me,
That while I try the truth tae tell,
I’m no a Farawee.
An’ that ye know yer Bible weel
At least, alang yin line
But tak’ my tip an’ deper dip,
That ye may iver shine
Miss Eva G-race.

Ye claim tae ken yer “duty first,”
An’ I believe ye tae;
But knowin’ is nae juist enough
I’ts whut ye really dae.
So use yer talents al’ fur guid,
Watch an’ aye be ready,
An’ though I say guid-by the day,
I’m still auld brither EDDIE.
Miss Eva Green

Eddie, Cullybackey, 27th October 1919

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