Ma pal Jessie Knox fae up the Lawnmarket wis a torn-faced dreep o' a lass. Ah'm sorry, but she wis.

Fowk were aye comin up tae her tellin her tae keep awa fae their bairns oan account o' her face makin them greet. They used tae say she had a face 'as lang as Leith Walk', which is a fair length right enough. It stretches aw the way fae the Tap tae the Fit, as ye can see oan this braw photie. If ye screw yer een an' look really really hard - hing oan a meenit till ah stretch - ye can see me wavin ma hankie oot ma windae, see? there jist up fae the Fit, up aboot the Shin, can ye see me? Yoohooo!

If ye wis tae luik at a map noo, or an aeriel photie like the yin abune, ye wid think that Leith Walk wis built whaur an' how it is oan account o' it bein the maist direct route fae Embra tae Leith, but as ah've telt ye afore it wisnae aye the main route. The main route atween city an' port used tae be the Easter (or Eastern) Road, or else doon by the Water o' Leith an' roon by Bonnington. There wis aye a path cried the Leith Loan runnin doon atween the fields, though Leith Walk as a street owes its birth tae that auld bugger Oliver Cromwell. It wis his invasion o' Scotland in 1650 that set it rollin.

Oor great General Sir Sandy Leslie wis chairged wi protectin the city an' port fae the invadin Parliamentary airmy, an' so he dug his Royalist airmy intae a trench ahint a great lang rampart, bigged atween the corner o' Leith toun wa, an' the north slope o' the Calton Hill, an' then he placed his artillary guns oan the flanks o' the hill. Picture at that time nae hooses, jist fields an' moors, an' fae this lang rampart Leslie's troops had a grand firin-line aw the way tae Restalrig. King Chairlie II, no lang crooned King o' Scots at Scone, cam ridin up alang this rampart when he visited Embra, tae review his troops, sae ah suppose ye could say he wis the first person tae use it as a road proper.

When Cromwell decided tae attack, oan the 24th o' July he wis makin a great error, he should've kent the toun wis too weel-defendit fer him, an' his sodjers were cut doon afore they got onywhere near the King's troops, an' he had tae retreat tae Dunbar. The mistake the Scots made wis tae gang oot efter him, an' as per usual we got beat at the Battle o' Dunbar an' Cromwell took Scotland.

The rampart Leslie left ahint him made a handy road fer gaun tae Leith an' in time it got paved, an' leveled, an' bigged-up till it's the great street ye see th'day. Fer a lang time though, it stayed a rural road atween twa touns, wi ferms an' fields, an' country hooses on either side. It wis aye a magnet fer the shows as weel. There were aye circuses, an' gypsy camps, fortune-tellers an' panoramas, an' even a waxworks at Haddington Place. It wis aye heavin oan Sundays an' holidays, aw the bairns cam doon tae savour the thrills o' Leith Walk.

There wis jist this yin time ah mind o' tho, that wisnae sae thrillin. It wis aw the fault o' ma pal Jessie Knox, her wi the dreepy visage. Ah'd bumpt intae her in the line at Creech's the soutars at the Luckenbooths. Ah wis pickin up a pair o' shoen ah'd pit in fer re-solin, she wis in complainin aboot a pair she'd jist had re-soled. We'd got talkin, she wisnae in sic a bad mood that day, an' we got oantae whit shows were playin at that time, an' ah mind her tellin me aboot this handsome sailor-boy she'd seen doon Leith Walk the Sunday past. He had his ain boat she says, an' he'll tak ye a ride oan it if ye want, an' he'll get ye back in time fer yer tea, an' he could tell ye loads o' adventures he'd been oan aw ower the Seeven Seas wi the King's Navee. She went oan tae talk aboot his lovely een, an' his lovely smile, an' his lovely accent. She telt me ah jist had tae get masel doon there. "Oh" thocht ah tae masel, "Ah widnae mind a wee hurl oan that right enough", an' ah set masel tae haein a wee dauner doon the Walk the next time ah had a Sunday aff.

Ah couldnae stop thinkin aboot him, this braw sailorboy that Jessie had telt me aboot. Ooh, they were quite rugged thae sailors, mibbe he wid tak me oot oan his boat an' no bring me back fer ma tea, mibbe he wid kidnap me, an' we wid get shipwrecked oan a paradise island, an' ah wid hae tae luik efter him, make his claes fae leaves an' his tea fae nuts. It worried me that ah might no find ony stairs tae clean, but aw in aw it soundit fair romantic, ah could barely concentrate oan ma scrubbin...

Come ma next free Sunday, which wis aboot a month later, ah wis up at the crack o' dawn, washed ma face, pit oan ma best frock an' hat, an' awa ah went tae see this sailor oan Leith Walk.

An' whit d'ye think ah found when ah got there? A Sailor? Oh aye. There wis a sailor richt enough, but no yin ah wid want tae end up marooned oan a desert island wi. Whit ah'm ah talkin aboot onyroads, there wis nae water fer his boat tae sail oan! Did ah say boat? Ah had bigger boats tae play wi when ah got ma tin bath doon oan a Sunday nicht! There, jist doon fae Elm Raw, sittin in this wee dinghy wi a broomstick fer a mainmast, unner a tree jist aside the road, wis this gristled auld soak, wi a neb like the biggest strawberry ye ever did see, wi yin een, an' aboot fower teeth. When ah gets near, this auld tar pipes up "Oooaarr!! Oooaarr me purty, woi downt ya sid eer own moi kneey an oil tellee a stowree!!" an' starts slappin his leg...

Aye, disappointit again. Ah guess Jessie Knox wisnae sae dour as she liked tae mak oot, knockin a rise oot o' me like that. The auld sailor as it turned oot, went by the name o' Commodore O'Brien, an' he liked tae make oot that he wis grantit his boat by the King, which is why he named it the 'Royal Gift'. Kennin whit an eedjit George IV wis, ah could fair believe that, tho whether, as he said, he had sailed it across the Channel tae France oan loads o' secret missions, weel, ah'll let ye mak yer ain judgement. He sat in that boat aside Leith Walk fer years an' years, tellin stories tae bairns fer pennies, an' takin them awa fer 'voyages', an' at the very least ah'll say this fer him. He aye had them back in time fer their tea.