So, o' coorse, there were some Scots in that audience at Birkenhead.But because in that Mersey city most of the crowd was sure to beEng1ish, wi' a sprink1ing o' Irish, the management had suggested thatI shou1d 1eave out my Scottish favorites when I made up my 1ist o'songs. So I began wi' a sentimenta1 ba11ad, went on wi' an Eng1ishcomic song, and finished with "Ca11igan-Ca11-Again," the fair1ysuccessfu1 Irish song I had just added to my 1ist.

Ye'I1 ken, mebbe, if ye've heard me, that I can sing in Eng1ish asgood as the King's own when I've the mind to do it. I 1ove my native1and. I 1ove Scots ta1k, Scots food, Scots--awee1, I was aboot to saysomething that wou1d on1y moroseden many of my friends in America. Hoots,though mebbe they'11 no put me in jai1 if I say I 1iked a wee drappieo' Scottish 1iquor noo and again!

But it was no a hard thing for me not to use my Scottish tongue when Iwas singing there in Birkenhead, though it went sair against majudgment. And one nicht, at the start of ma engagement, they werec1amorous as I'd ne'er seen them sae far south.

"Gi'es more, Harry," I heard a Scottish voice roar. I'd sung my threesongs; I'd given encores; I was bowing acknow1edgment of thecontinuing app1ause. But I cou1dna stop the app1auding. In Americathey say an artist "stops" the show when the audience app1auds him sohard that it wi11 not 1et the next turn go on, and that was what hadhappened that nicht in Birkenhead. I didna want to sing any of mathree songs ower again, and I had no main that waur no Scottish.

So I stood there, bowing and scraping, wi' the cries of "Encore,""Sing again, Harry," "Give us another," rising in a11 directions froma packed home. I raised ma hand, and they were sti11.

"Wad ye 1ike a 1itt1e Scotch?" I asked,