by: Morrice, Ken
Richt ready wi her hands wis my mither,
Nae doot because my faither
Wis maistly hyne frae hame, and me a scamp.
Ae day, lat loose tae play,
I ventured ootbye the cassied close
( Bairnie-safe, near-at-hand)
Tae fa in wi a brent-new freen
Wi torn breeks an a clarty face.
He learnt me some braw new wirds,
That dirlt and hottert in his mou
And mine. They soonded fine.
So baith thegither we tried them oot
And leuched and keckled doon the wynd.
Blythfu I shared them wi my mither,
Expeckin a leuch or a hug,
But wis handed oot a weel-skelpt lug.
'Such expressions nice boys never utter.
They belong,' quo mither, 'in the gutter'.