At this point Martin held up both arms and called for silence.
“Second verse,” he shouted, “second verse! Get the words now!”
“Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done,
Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done,
Old Dunn ain't done, old Dunn ain't done,
Old Dunn, old Dunn ain't done.”
But the crowd rejected the Colonial version, and rendered in their own good Doric:
“Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done,
Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done,
Old Dunn's no' done, old Dunn's no' done,
Old Dunn, old Dunn's no' done.”
And so they sang and swayed, following the van till they neared Queen Street, down which lay the doctor's course.
“For heaven's sake, can't they be choked off?” groaned Dunn.
The doctor signalled Jock to him.
“Jock,” he said, “we'll just slip through at Queen Street.”
“We'd like awfully to do Princes Street, Sir,” pleaded Jock.