When I was a child they called me a wean

The place where I lived, not a home but a hame.

My mum was ma mammy, my dog was ma dug

My uncle was Hugh but to us he was Shug.

A potato - a tattie, a turnip - a neep

My house was a hoose and to cry was to greet.

A wisnae was wasn't, and did not was disnae

A kiss was a winch and a red face a riddy.

If someone was simple to us they were dolly

To go up the pub you were aff for a swally.

Up was still up but it coupled with doon

And your condiments limited - red sauce or broon.

My armpit - my oakster, my head was ma heid

And if somebody died, well that meant they were deed.


◄ Ode To A Holiday Rep

Groundhog Day ►


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Helen Elliott

Sat 7th Oct 2017 09:39

Thanks Laura.

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Laura Taylor

Thu 5th Oct 2017 09:46

Hello you!! Great to see you back. Love this!

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Helen Elliott

Tue 3rd Oct 2017 21:19

Thanking you all for your comments :)

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Philip Stevens

Mon 2nd Oct 2017 23:14

Och aye the noo !

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Kim Whysall-Hammond

Mon 2nd Oct 2017 16:00

Wonderful poem, and brings back fond memories of Glasgow. Including trying to translate between a local and an American visitor!

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Hannah Collins

Sat 30th Sep 2017 18:01

I love this poem.

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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 30th Sep 2017 17:20

Fabulous. Love it. Where have you been lately? Or is it me, off the scene for a bit, on a regular basis anyway?

That's a genuine question - I've missed you.

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