Here Aboots.

A poem by David Rorie

Doon in the placie I hae my hame
We're an ill-daein' pack o' deils,
For ilk ane gangs a gait o' his ain
An the lave play yap at his heels.
It's argy-bargy-awfu' wark!
An' whiles we come to blows
Till a man's ill-natur' lappers his sark
As it sypes awa' frae his nose.

The rizzon o't's no' far to seek,
I'll tell ye plump an' plain,
We ken oor neebours' business best-
The Deil may hae oor ain!
The wricht's a billy for settin' banes,
The meenister deals in pills,
The doctor thinks his gift's to preach
An' the pollisman mak's oor wills!

There's whiles I think we're waur than maist,
There's whiles I dinna ken,
A raw o' neeps is no' a' like
An' why look for't in men?
Sae gin ye get your birse set up
By some dour cankert carle,
Content yersel'! For min' it tak's
A' kin's to mak' a warl'!

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'Here Aboots.' by David Rorie

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy