When I come upon the idea for a new song 'tis less often a bit of verse or a comic idea I think of first--mair like it's some odd bit of humanity, some man a wee bit different from others.

He'll be a bit saft, perhaps, or mean, or generous--I'm not carin', so long as he's but different.
And there, in the pit, men showed themselves to one another, and my een and my ears were aye open in those days.

I'd try to be imitating this queer character or that, sometimes, but I'd do it only for my ain pleasure.

I was no thinkin', in yon days, of ever singing on the stage.

How should I ha' done so?
I was but Harry Lauder, strugglin' hard to mak siller enough to help at home.
But, whiles I was at my work, I'd sing a bit song now and again, when I thought no one was by to hear.