Paddy Kelly, sent oan an eerant by his auld Mither, wastit a the cash oan lager an when he wis plaistert stummled oan a banjo, takt it hame, gey prood o himsel. His ma leathered him. Whit de ye think yer dain saunterin back here bluitert wi a banjo ye saucie gowk, an a the siller gan? Couped it richt oot the windae. Next day whit do ye think but a big braw magic banjo tree? Paddie’d tak a new yin every day and strum a the way tae the village: he didnae hae tae be fu tae play it, but awbody else had tae be tae thole listenin, so the hale toon’s economy was sauft.