I’m often asked if I’m no sorry I’m just a music hall singer.  It’s a bonnie thing to be a great actor, appearing in fine plays.  No one admires a great actor in a great play more than I do, and one of the few things that ever makes me sorry my work is what it is is that I can sae seldom sit me doon in a stall in a theatre and watch a play through.  But, after a’, why should I envy any other man his work?  I do my best.  I study life, and the folk that live it, and in my small way I try to represent life in my songs.  It’s my way, after a’, and it’s been a gude way for me.  No, I’m no sorry I’m just a music hall singer.

I’ve done a bit o’ acting.  My friend Graham Moffatt wrote a play I was in, once, that was no sicca poor success—­“A Scrape o’ the Pen” it was called.  I won’t count the revues I’ve been in; they’re more like a variety show than a regular theatrical performance, any nicht in the week.

I suppose every man that’s ever stepped before the footlichts has thought o’ some day appearing in a character from Wull Shakespeare’s plays, and I’m no exception tae the rule.  I’ll gae further; I’ll say that every man that’s ever been any sort of actor at a’ has thought o’ playing Hamlet, Prince of Denmark.  But I made up ma mind, lang ago, that Hamlet was nae for me.  Syne then, though, I’ve thought of another o’ Shakespeare’s characters I’d no mind playing.  It’s a Scottish part —­Macbeth.

They’ve a’ taken Macbeth too seriously that ha’ played him.  I’m thinking Shakespeare’s ghost maun laugh when it sees hoo all the great folk ha’ missed the satire o’ the character.  Macbeth was a Scottish comedian like masel’—­that’s why I’d like to play him.  And then, I’m awfu’ pleased wi’ the idea o’ his make-up.  He wears great whiskers, and I’m thinkin’ they’d be a great improvement to me, wi’ the style o’ beauty I have.  I notice that when a character in one o’ ma songs wears whiskers I get an extra round o’ applause when I come on the stage.

And then, while Macbeth had his faults, he was a verra accomplished pairson, and I respect and like him for that.  He did a bit o’ murdering, but that was largely because of his wife.  I sympathize wi’ any man that takes his wife’s advice, and is guided by it.  I’ve done that, ever since I was married.  Tae be sure, I made a wiser choice than did Macbeth, but it was no his fault the advice his lady gied him was bad, and he should no be blamed as sair as he is for the way he followed it.  He was punished, tae, before ever Macduff killed him—­ wasna he a victim of insomnia, and is there anything worse for a man tae suffer frae than that?

Aye, if ever the time comes when I’ve a chance to play in one of Wull Shakespeare’s dramas, it’s Macbeth I shall choose instead of Hamlet.  So I gie you fair warning.  But it’s only richt to say that the wife tells me I’m no to think of doing any such daft thing, and that my managers agree wi’ her.  So I think maybe I’ll have to be content just to be a music hall singer a’ my days—­till I succeed in retiring, that is, and I think that’ll be soon, for I’ve a muckle tae do, what wi twa-three mair books I’ve promised myself to write.