In you days, if a man in a gallery didna like a song or the way I sang it, he'd call oot.

Sometimes he'd get the crowd wi' him--sometimes they'd rally to me, and shout him doon.
"Go on, Harry--sing yer own way--gang yer ain gait!" I've heard encouraging cries like that many and many a time.

But I've always learned from those that disapproved o' me.

They're quieter the noo.

I ha' to watch folk, and see, from the way they clap, and the way they look when they're listening, whether I'm doing richt or wrong.
It's a digression, maybe, but I micht tell ye hoo a new song gets into my list.