Miss Hardie grippit inno a flooery peenie,
The stoor o her chalk gaun screichin in pluffs o virr,
Wi the chuffie-cheeks o a post-war Mussolini,
Kept 40 bairns in a state o perpetual birr.

A gran an michty thing is education;
It dings the uppity doon tae taste the dung,
Apocryphal whiff o ink an determination;
Miss Hardie gart ye listen, an haud yer tongue.

A cuckoo clock that bedd on the waa as simmer,
Her voice as tart's a rodden, as soor's a plum,
Her wird wis jobby — the stang o a big heid-bummer,
She beetled awa frae dawn tae Kingdom come.

The globe furls on — bit Miss Hardie's stoppit birlin:
The brukken cuckoo clock wis a lanely gowk
Fa kent ae note, an that note gruff an gurlin,
An niver learned tae open her hairt tae fowk.