The Banff and Buchan Collection

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Tape 1993.017 transcription

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01
[JS] Welcome to the prize winner's concert and to get things underway, I'll introduce you to your compere, Robbie Shepherd! [Applause.]

02-03
[RS] And let me welcome first of all the winner of the senior pipe. He plays in the Buchan Pipe Band, he comes from St Combs and his name is Piper Bill Henderson, there he is coming in now.

[Pipes play two sets]

[Applause.]

[RS] Thank you very much Bill, setting us off there on our prize winners and that was the senior pipe today. Great attractions surely to this festival is to proudly introduce our youngsters, seeing our President, Peter down here and David Toulmin, folk like that doon beside us, they must be affa proud of the fact that we'd such a big entry today for the continuation of our ane tongue, it was really great. And here's a lassie that won the under 12 Doric verse. Her name is Marie McCulloch. So Ann Marie if you come here for the moment, Anne Marie McCulloch [Applause.]. And we're getting a J. C. Milne one for a start, and one that was recited in the open air concert today, 'Better Deid'. Anne Marie McCulloch. [Applause.].

04
[AMM]

O a' ma freens noo gaen awa,
A fyowe I hinna missed ava,
And fyles a thocht gangs through my heid,
A hantle folk are better deid.

First o a, there's Kirsty Young,
For lang Jock tholed her soople tongue,
Day and nicht, withoot remeid,
The threepin jaud, she's better deid.

The Dominie he's gane lang syne,
But man his name I canna min,
They say he came fae Peterheid,
Bluemogganer, he's better deid.

And Gweed forgie aul Jeemsie Broon,
Wha kent the claik in ilka toun,
And aye the ill afore the guid,
Din-raisin vraitch, he's better deid.

Alas for bonnie Jeannie Gow,
A strappin quine, fae owre the knowe,
I doot she wis but middlin gweed,
For a concerned she's better deid.

The girnin gamie's gaen, peer stock,
Wi his futret tails and sic like trock,
Nae mair he'll vex my Buchan bleed,
A Hielander, he's better deid.

And guid behere, I near forgot,
The Reverend Weellum Patrick Scott,
Wha nivver did nae ill - Nor guid,
We are respeck, he's better deid.

And contermashious, Tammie Tough,
I aften wished him far eneuch,
Nae drogs, nor doctors did him gweed,
It's jist as weel, cause he's better deid.

And Kirsty Ann Jemima Tait,
Nae better han at makkin maet,
Or catchin ferlies in her heid,
Preserve us a! She's better deid.

An for masel, fin caul fite death ,
Comes shiverin ben tae jeel my breath,
Let nae man nod or shak his heid,
And say 'I doot she's better deid.' [Applause.]

05
[RS] Well the Buchan tongue may say She's better deid, but we're saying that we're far fae deid wi the Buchan tongue with artists like that. Once again for the young lassie [Applause.]. Thank you indeed. We are nae deid, far we're alive and kickin. And I'll prove it to you now, because a lad that won two competitions today, he won the Junior Melodeon I think it was and he also won the Junior Bothy Ballad. And he's a young loon, he's only nine years aul, and he wears bonnet that musta belonged to his great-great-grandfather's great-great-grandfather. But it's still livin an a, it's kept livin by the moss gan roon ye ken. Noo the loon, keeps going. Young Gordon Caroll from Gartly [Applause.]. And Gordon, I'll gie ye a wee bitta time tae get yersel intae motion there, binder twine roon aboot the knees and athing there, starting off with 'Lord Lovat's Lament' I think, and 'Willie's Gan tae Melville Castle,' and then 'Wild Mountain Thyme.' Am I right?

[GC] Aye.

[RS] Thank goodness. From Gartly, nine years old, Gordon Carol.

[Plays; applause.]

[RS] I'll take the box, and you put on the bonnet, and I'll take this awa a wee bittie. Tell me Gordon what's your song.

[GC] The Buchan Plooman

[RS] The Buchan Plooman, winning the Junior Bothy Ballad the day, you just lookit up at that thing there, up in the sky there [laughs]. No not there, the other een. Right, in your own time
then. The Buchan Plooman.

[GC] 'The Buchan Plooman'

Come a ye jolly plooman lads at work amon the grun
Come listen tae ma story if ye wint tae hae some fun
I'm nae sae young's a I used tae be, some say I've hin ma fling,
And I feel like a five year aul fen I begin tae sing

Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.

Noo doon at Ellon feein mairket noo listen fit I say,
A mannie come up tae me and spiert if I'd work a ten oor day,
If I cauld full muck wi a man, he fairly gart me gape,
Says I, auld man far I come fae, we full muck wi a graip.

Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.

I wis bothied for a sax month at a place we ca'd Balcairn,
Fan I gaed doon the bothy lads they took me for a bairn,
Wi horny hauns, they ate biled spuds, the bothy fleer wis happit,
Wi ma tackity beets I tramped a spud and said, I like mine chappit.

Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.

Noo the nicht I mairried Mary-Ann I got most affa fu,
The minister tried tae tie the knot there wis a hullabaloo,
He said, fit is yer name my man and have ye got the ring,
Ye should hae seen the mannie's face when I began tae sing.

Singin laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll big a ruck o strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a' the day,
Oh laltie-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay. [Applause.]

[RS] That's certainly a boy for the future surely, once again for Gordon Carroll. Well done Gordon [Applause.]. I love aboot comin here, especially when I'm introducing these youngsters, and I'm going to introduce another one now.

09
[RS] Just before Gordon I introduced Ann Marie McCulloch and she gave us a JC Milne poem, and her younger sister won the 8 years and under, so it's sister Catherine McCulloch winning the 8 years and under again with a J.C. Milne topper called 'Dominie Dandie'.

[CM] 'Dominie Dandie'

I've been tae skweel and college and ta'en a gweed degree,
And noo I think I'm thinkin it's a teacher I wid be,
And in twa-three year I'se warrant, gin the warld's waggin weel,
They'll mak me Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.

I widna gang stravaigin aye awa te Aiberdeen,
And yonner at Pittodrie stan and shiver in ma sheen,
And ca the Dons for athing like an orra workin chiel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.

And ilka Sunday mornin tae the kirk I'd walk in style,
Wi a muckle black umbrella and a swagger and a smile,
I'd nivver miss a sermon for widder, sark or peel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.

Nae wyvers and their moose-wobs wid be hingin on the was,
But twa-three pintit picters o a lichthoose and sea-ma's,
A haul o herrin drifters or a fish-wife wi her creel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.

And aften fin it's looking like a dribblin drap o rain,
Gweed sakes, they marka double and lat a the littlins hame,
And syne gang gallivantin wi fishin-rod and reel,
Gin I were Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel.

Fae Monday morn till Friday nicht I'd yark the learnin in,
Though I widna touch the fancy frills, for that wid be a sin,
Nae drawin, singing, dancin, they're the cantrips o the Deil,
No I widna hae sic ongauns in my couthie country skweel.

And gin a grey-haird granny cam te nyatter in ma lugs,
That the skweel wis fu o ferlies blaudin a her Muggsie Wugs,
I wid lat yer yarp and yammer till her tongue took time to queel,
And afore she left she'd whisper, It's a couthie country skweel.

God bless a kirk ministers and keep them in gweed bin,
For they're aye on a committees and wi them ye'd best haud in,
And Deevil tak the hindmost wha widna wish me weel,
And mak me Dominie Dandie wi a couthie country skweel. [Applause.]

[RS] I think I can now stand on the stage and just go like that and you'd give your applause. Surely that's what it's all about. I'm only sad, I'm sure you are too, that JC Milne couldna hear that tonight, I think that's a great tribute to him, it really is [Applause.]. Yes, we're set fair.

10
[RS] Once again this time we go to the piano. This is the winner of the junior piano today, and she was Sarah Anderson of Westhill. And Sarah would like to play first of all Mary of Argyll, then the Marchioness of Huntly and the Perth Hunt. Our Junior winner of piano, Sarah Anderson of Westhill. [Applause.]

[Plays; applause.]

11
[RS] Our winner of the junior fiddle, and he's only aged 10, and he is a young lad called Kevin Hay of Fochabers. You come in Kevin I'll introduce your tunes. Now you dinna start until you feel you are ready, but I'll introduce the tunes. 'Scott Skinner's Compliments to Dr MacDonald,' then 'The Marquis of Huntly's Highland Fling' and then finish with 'The Breakdown.' Kevin Hay.

[Plays]

12
[RS] Singing today to wing the Junior Ballad, the song was 'The Banks of Red Roses,' Nicola Reid. [Applause.].

[NR] Ye'll hae tae excuse me for feeling a wee bittie nervous, cause I've a feelin there might be a puckle folk here I ken.

'Banks o Red Roses'

When I was a wee thing, and easy led astray,
Before I would work, I would raither sport and play,
Before that I would work, I would rather sport and play,
With my Johnny on the banks o red roses.

On the banks o red roses, my love and I sat down,
He took out his tuning box to play his love a tune,
In the middle o the tune, his love broke down and cried,
Oh my Johnny, oh my Johnny, dinna leave me?

He took out his pocket knife and it was long and sharp,
And he pierced through and through his bonny lassie's heart,
And he pierced through his bonny lassie's heart,
And he left her lying there low among the roses.

Thank you. [Applause.]

13
[RS] Let me now introduce you to the next of our winners, and I'm delighted that she won the Intermediate Accordion. From Drummuir, Lynne Christie. Lynne starts off tonight with 'Bieldside,' then 'The Duke of Edinburgh' and 'The Rejected Suitor.' Lynne Christie. [Applause.]

[Plays]

14
[RS] The next one coming in now is the Intermediate Tin Whistle and we welcome Scott Milton of Fraserburgh [Applause.]. Scott is starting off with that beautiful slow air, 'The Hills of Lorne,' followed by 'The Battle of the Somme' and then 'Green Woodside.' Scott Milton.

[Plays]

15
[RS] A young lassie I introduced not so long ago on the piano, we have a winner with her brother, on piano Keith Anderson and not only did he win the piano intermediate, but he won the fiddle as well. So come in first of all Keith Anderson on piano. Yes. The first tune is going to be Miss Laura Andrews, and then two from James Murdoch Henderson, 'Mrs C. Sutherland' and 'Charlie Sutherland.' 14 years old, intermediate piano. Keith Anderson [Applause.].

[Plays]

[End of Side A.]

16-17
[RS] Keith's looking round to say, am I finished? No, you're nae finished, cause yer comin back here wi the fiddle. We have Keith's sister who won the junior section before on the fiddle is coming forward this time to accompany her brother who also won the intermediate fiddle. So can I call back again Sarah for a start. Are you alright there Keith? You're going to start off with the 'Balmoral Castle,' then we have two from Peter Milne, Peter Milne the Tarland Minstrel, wi the 'Muir o Gillan' and 'Gillan's Reel.' Keith Anderson.

[Plays]

18
[RS] But winning the ladies ballad, from Mintlaw, Liz Stewart.

[ES] 'The Laird o Drum'

Oh the Laird o Drum's a-huntin gane,
He wis a walkin a the mornin early,
And wha did he see but a weel-faured lass,
She's a-shearin her faither's barley.

Oh wid ye nae be a gentleman's wife,
And wid ye nae be his lady,
And wid ye nae be o some high degree,
And leave yer shearing be-o.

Oh I wid be a gentleman's wife,
And I wid be his lady,
And I wid be o some higher degree,
But nae I'm a match for thee-o.

For my faither he is a puir shepherd man,
He herds them on yonder hill-o,
And onything that he bids me dae,
I'm always at his command-o.

Oh the lassie can neither read nor write,
She wis nivver at a school-o,
But ony other thing a well can she dae,
For learned the lassie masel-o.

Oh she canna wash yer china cups,
Nor her mask a cup o tea-o,
But weel can she mak ???,
And a ?? on her knee-o.

Oh fa will mak yer bridal breid,
And wha will brew yer ale-o,
And wha will staun at the gates o the Drum,
And welcome your bonnie lassie in-o.

Oh the baker'll bake my bridal breid,
And the brewer will brew my ale-o
And I will staun at the gates o the Drum,
And welcome my bonnie lassie-o.

Up spake his brither John,
A man o high degree-o,
Ye're marryin a lass o this fine night,
And she's nae a match for thee-o.

For the last lady we hid in this place,
She wis far below my degree-o,
??? time I enter into her room,
Til our hands were below our knees-o.

If you were dead and I was dead,
And baith laid in our grave-o,
An ??? raised up again,
Fa wid ken yer dust fae mine-o,
Aye, fa's tae ken yer dust fae mine-o.

19
[RS] Let me now get onto the Ladies Melodeon competition. And this is a lady that I have know quite a number of years. Margaret Greig. Margaret you are using 'The Music o Spey' tonight for your first tune, and then 'The Smith's a Gallant Fireman,' then 'Come Let us Dance and Sing.' Margaret Greig.

[Plays]

20-21
[RS] Welcome the lad that one both the bothy ballad and the big ballad competition. From Kirriemuir, Joe Aitken.

[JA] Isn't he lookin real smart the nicht [laughs]. I feel richt orra staundin aside him [laughs].

[RS] What's your first song, darling? [laughs].

[JA] Right, eh, right, as Robbie said, I'll start off wi the Buchan Plooman. I think the judges maybe hid an off day but never mind [laughs].

'The Buchan Plooman'

Come a ye jolly plooman lads at work amon the grun,
Come listen tae ma story if ye want tae hae some fun,
I'm nae sae young's a I used tae be, some say I've hid ma fling,
But I feel just like a ten year aul fen I begin tae sing.

Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.

A tellin feein mairket noo listen fit I say,
A fairmer speirt gin I could work a pair a ten oor day,
If I could fu muck wi a man, he fairly gart me gape,
Says I, auld man far I come fae, ye fill muck wi a graip.

Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.

I bothied for a sax month at a place they ca'd Balcairn,
Fan I gaed hame the bothy lads they took me for a bairn,
Wi horny hauns, they ate biled spuds, the bothy fleer wis happit,
Wi ma sharnie bits I tramped the spuds and said I like mine chappit.

Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay.

The nicht I mairried Mary-Ann I got most affa foo,
Fan the minister tried tae tie the knot there wis a how de ye do,
He said, fit is yer name my man and have ye got the ring,
Ye should hae seen the mannie's face when I began tae sing.

Singin lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay,
I'll ca yer horse, I'll sort yer nowt, I'll beg a ruck a strae,
I'm as happy's a lark fae dawn tae dark, and singin a the day,
Oh lalta-faloora-lido, tooraloora lay. [Applause.]

22
[JA] Whoo, it's warm in here. Now the next song I'm going to sing ca'd the Twa Gadgies.

'The Twa Gadgies'.

Well I met twa gadgies doon a road, quarreling like tae kill,
Gin it wis sax or seven miles tae yon toon oot ower the hill,
Well I hae my supper in my pyoke and a' my time is free,
And be it sax or seven miles to some toon, well what's the odds tae me.

Noo I tramps the country up and doon and mony's an orra job I'm hired,
But I see nae sense in raxin masel, and I'll nae work when I'm tired;
For I just need eneuch tae keep masel and my doss costs me nae fee,
And be it sax or seven miles tae some toon, well what's the odds tae me.

Noo I've nivver taen the wimmen fowk, noo doubt they've nivver taen tae me,
So the road I maun tak is a lonely road, wi for was noo I cuidnae fa tae,
And the bed I maun mak is a lonely bed, hin some dyke or below some tree,
And be it sax or seven miles tae some toon, well what's the odds tae me.

Noo I pity fowk o gentle birth, tied up wi parasols and pedigrees,
Gin they could throw their shackles aff, then like me they'd be truly free,
For I wis born in a drystane dyke, hin a drystane dyke I'll die,
And be it sax or seven miles tae some toon, well what's the odds tae me. [Applause.]

[RS] Well worth the applause there. What a punch line that is to finish, but what a singer is Joe Aiken. Well done. Continue now. Will you please welcome Alison Buchan.

23
[AB] 'The Reekin Lum,' by Peter Buchan

Jock come oot till his gavel ane, and he leaned against the wa,
He lifted the snoot o his aul daen cape and he gaed his pow a cla,
He lichted his pipe wi a sook and a smack and he traivelled back and forth,
The same aul wey that he'd daen for years, fae the hoose tae the sheddie door,
The watch keeper's stars were bricht clear abeen in the frosty dark,
And the wind's cauld nose wisnae slow to learn that Jock's wis a gey thin sark.

It wis five steps east. It wis five steps wast, wi a thocht aboot this and that,
And nivver a sowl to look near haun, but a myowling, prowling cat,
And nivver a soun but the sooch o the win, and the girn o the grumblin sea,
For the bairns that had played in the street a nicht, were far sleepy bairns should be,
It wis five steps east. It wis five steps wast. Wi a thocht aboot this and that,
Fin up fae the shore came a weel kent fit, twas his crony aul Dod Watt.

Oh a lang thin chiel, wi his neck weel rowd in a gravit sax feet lang,
And throw the stumps o his broken teeth he wis whistlin an aul Scotch sang,
A tune that wis aul as the hielan hills, although he couldnae gie it a name,
He wis gey sair made at the twirlie bits, but he fustled them just the same.

Sis! Says he when he sa oor Jock at his traivellin up and doon,
Ye're the only driftin sowel I've seen this nicht in a the toon,
Hiv ye nae a hame, are ye short o coal that ye're birdin on oot here,
Ye'd be jist as warm if ye stood a file at the pint of the convict here.

Man, says Jock, I wis sittin fine in the cosy ingle neuk,
Readin a bit and sing a bit and beatin an ?? heuk,
The dog wis straitched on the fender steel, wi a sleepy heid on ma feet,
And I thocht that life wi its ups and doon could fyles be unca sweet,
Fen doon the lum came a muckle ? it filled the hoose wi reek,
And I hosted sair and I cowkit mair like a first year loon at sik.

My een wis waterin thick and fast, my nose is full a sit,
So I've jist come oot for a breath right noo, for the air in ere's nae fit.
Sis, says Dod, at's a pity noo. And he fell in step wi Jock, but nivver a word did he believe,
For Jock wis lee'in folk, since ever they sail'd the stormy seas, their cod had aye fower heids,
And the hens o them that wis fairmin folk laid eggs wi twa big reeds.

It wis five steps east. It wis five steps wast. Wi a word aboot this and that,
Jock wi the reek fleein ower his heid, while Dod jist chowed and spat,
And every drag wis a double lift and in every heuk a skate,
And herrin ran doon ?? lids like a hieland burn in spate.

So up they shot and hauled, they dodged and ran through fair and conter seas,
And aye as the dark hoor greater grew, aye, greater grew the lies.
Till oot o the nicht a fearsome yowl came dirlin, wild and clear,
It still'd their speak, it stive'd their speak, it froze their hairts wi fear.

Twis Isie oot at the kitchen door, on the hunt for her guid man Jock,
Then she gyarded him up and she gyarded him doon, baith him and a his folk,
And lood, aye looder grew her note and ?? grew her skirl,
And gard the cat take sheet wi fright, it gard the windaes dirl.

He wis this, he wis that, he wis nithin guid, he wis idle tae the bone,
And the only thing that brocht a smile wis the sicht o the southerly cone,
He wis nivver oot, he wis nivver in, he wis jist an orra drooth,
Fine did she ken fit wey he wis aye sae keen for a birth forsooth,
And aye her tongue gaed clatter clak, like the star'n o a crippled chook,
And the names that she ca'd her man that night wis never seen in the beuk,
Guidnicht, says Dod, till his leein freen. Aye see it's the reek that's tae blame,
But it's time I wisnae here mysel, I've a reekin lum at hame! [Laughs, applause.]

24-25
[RS] On we go then to the winners today! This is the senior fiddle. And again a lad that I have seen growing up since the days he was with the Banchory Strathspey and Reel Society and still is. Paul is going to start off tonight with a 'Lament for MacCrimmon,' beautiful slow air then as a strathspey and a reel, 'Miss Lyall.' The winner of the senior fiddle, Paul Anderson of Tarland. [Plays]

[RS] We haven't an affa lot to go now, but I'd like to introduce a lady ballad winner today, fae St Fergus winning the Ladies Ballad competition this afternoon, yes we welcome back again Morven Jessiman. And Morven's going to tell you a aboot pluckin neeps in winter.

26
[MJ] 'Neeps tae Pluck'

Twis on a Martinmas market day, the snow lay on the ground,
Fen a fairmer he gaed up tae a lad and offered him ten pounds,
But mine ye've neeps tae pluck an nowt tae muck, and a hunner ither jobs forbye,
And seein the guid wife she's laid doon, ye winna mine milkin the cai

Up spoke the lad, oh he wis mad,
What wis that ye said,
That ye'd mak me a fairmer's boy intil a dairy maid,
Oh yer neeps I'll pluck yer nowt I'll muck,
An dae ony ither jobs forbye.
But I'm blessed if I will undertake tae milk yer bloomin kye.

Oh hud yer tongue the fairmer said and nae mak sik a soon,
Here tak the shillin and say nae mair afore a crood gither roon,
But mine ye've neeps tae pluck in oot the muck,
And a hunner ither jobs forbye,
And if the guid wife she gets up I winna bid ye milk the kye.

O that's nae use the laddie said but I've heard that tale afore,
And I man hae mair proof than that afore I enter yer door,
Or yer neeps I winna pluck, your nowt I winna muck,
Nor dae ony ither jobs forbye,
Nor tak in hand tae be a dairy maid and milk yer bloomin kye.

We hiv a maid the fairmer said, and she his tae milk as weel,
Haud on, haud on, the laddie cried, man that's anither tale,
Oh yer neeps I'll pluck, yer nowt I'll muck, and dae ony ither jobs forbye
And if the maid, she gangs alang wi me, we'll very soon milk yer kye.

The laddie arrived wi his pooches fu and a chackie[?] on his back,
And he spied the fairmer wi an ugly daem haein a quaet crack,
That'll be the guid wife, the laddie thocht, I'm glaid she's nae laid doon,
For I dinna want to start milkin yet, afore I've seen the toon.

My wife's nae better the fairmer said, but this is oor dairy maid,
She'll help ye wi the milkin fan she's gotten yer supper laid,
Oh yer neeps ye can pluck, yer nowt ye can muck and dae ony ither jobs forbye
It's a wonner that a woman wi a face like that, she disnae put yer coos a' dry,
Aye, she disnae put your coos a' dry. [Applause.]

27
[RS] Continue now as I bring on the open melodeon champion and he comes fae Cushnie and that's Bill Stewart! He's starting off with Charlie Allen's tune and Charlie was adjudicating there in the big ballad, 'Lonely in the Bothy,' that's followed by a song we've heard tonight, 'The Banks o the Roses,' and then 'The Aul Meal Mill.' Once again, Bill Stewart o Cushnie. [Applause.]

[Plays]

 

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