Al John Donald the Baker deed jist a couple o weeks
afore I wrote this tune. He'd been a baker in Portsoy a' 'is days. Fin e' startit oot the
oven wiz fired by wid and deliveries wiz bi horse 'n kairt. Fin yi pass the shop in the
early mornin these days yi git a glimpse o antiquity in the smell o 'Donald's Buttries'.
|Old John Donald the baker died shorlty before I wrote this tune. He had
been a baker in the village all his life. When he began the oven was wood fired and
deliveries were by horse and cart. When you pass the shop early in the morning these days
there is a hint of antiquity in the smell of the the morning rolls.