Ode to Lodge Water of Leith, No. 1267
By Brother Thomas McNeill, IPM, Lodge St Leonards Newington Edinburgh, No 1283 (HM 1267)
In the fading dusk of war’s grim reign,
When men returned with hearts in pain,
From trenches deep and skies of fire,
They sought a place to lift them higher.
In Slateford’s hall, on a winter’s night,
Thirty-eight brothers, with hope in sight,
Gathered to plan, with hearts aligned,
A Masonic Lodge, to heal the mind.
January’s chill could not suppress,
Their vision born of brotherhood’s quest.
For in those days of post-war gloom,
A spark was lit to chase the doom.
They chose Longstone’s hall—a simple place,
Where solemn vows and steady grace
Would form the roots of something grand,
A Lodge to thrive in Scottish land.
But strict the rules within that hall,
No drink allowed, no frivolous call.
Yet still they laboured, side by side,
With Heart of Midlothian as a guide.
And Abbotsford, their sponsor too,
Ensured their dream would see them through.
In March, they named their leader true,
Davidson Scott, from the chosen few.
On May the 5th, with pride unfurled,
They joined the rolls of Masonic world.
Number 1267, Lodge Water of Leith,
Began its journey, with firm belief.
Named after the burn that winds nearby,
Its dirty brown waters showing a glint from the sky.
The colours so chosen were, brown and gold,
Reflect the burns story, quietly retold.
Then in June, the day of Consecration came,
Two hundred plus brethren, in brotherhood’s name.
Fifty-one lodges, from far and wide.
Gathered together, unified.
Brother Joseph Inglis, Grand Master’s hand,
Led the ceremony, bold and grand.
The Lodge was consecrated with pride and great care,
A symbol of strength, beyond compare.
But the years ahead brought challenge still,
For wars returned, and times were ill.
Once more, the brethren took up arms,
And left behind the Lodge’s charms.
The tools of trade were set aside,
While brothers marched, with hearts of pride.
Some returned, with battle scars,
Others lost to distant stars.
Yet through the loss and sorrow deep,
The Lodge remained, its vows to keep.
In ’28, with progress near,
Electric light began to clear.
The way ahead, with brighter days,
As brothers walked their hallowed ways.
But not all trials came from war—
For fire would test their strength once more.
In April ’88, the flames did roar,
And tore apart their sacred door.
Long months passed as they rebuilt,
Their brothers’ hands erased the guilt.
Of fire’s wrath, and soon they stood.
In fellowship, as they always would.
In ’94 again came fear
Fire returned, though less severe.
Two meetings lost, but not their heart,
For Lodge Water of Leith would not depart.
For forty years, with burden true,
The Lodge upheld this hall anew.
The ownership, a mystery long,
Yet still they kept it safe and strong.
In ’98, they took their stand,
And claimed the hall, by brethren’s hand.
Then at last, in 2009,
Their name was on the dotted line.
The hall was theirs, in full, at last,
A victory gained from troubles past.
Through fire, war, and trials untold,
Their brotherhood was never sold.
In ’96, they stood with pride,
Seventy-five years, a glorious stride.
A rededication, rich and grand,
Led by Brother Garside’s guiding hand.
And though a hundred years would pass,
Marked quietly due to Covid’s grasp,
The Lodge endured, its heart still strong,
Its legacy, a timeless song.
From burn to hall, from fire to war,
Lodge Water of Leith stands evermore—
A beacon bright, where brothers meet,
In faith, in truth, their work complete.
Through century’s storms, through joy and pain,
In unity, they rise again.
Lodge Water of Leith, ever true,
To brotherhood, and friends anew.