Brockit an the Berries
by: Wheeler, Les
Ye aa ken weel that Brockit likit tae traivel roon aboot the ferm an he wisna slow at pokin his wee neb intae aathing an iverything.
Ae day Brockit took it intae his heid tae gyang an look at a bit o the ferm he hid niver bin till afore. On the tap o a wee hill jist ahin the ferm-hoose wis a wild bit o grun wi a gweed puckle lang steens stannin up in it. Noo,
these steens hid bin put up by fowk that bade there a lang, lang, lang time ago. Hunners an hunners o years ago.
But the stannin steens hid bin neglectit an forgotten by fowk an noo the place wis covert in thick moss, lang girss, prickly bushes an lots an lots o wild flooers.
Weel, Brockit clammert ower the wee dyke that wint roon the place o the stannin steens an began tae hae a gweed look aroon. Noo, the simmer wis gie near deen an a lot o the bushes hid berries grow in on them.
Brockit fair likit the wye the berries swung aboot in the win and he wis pit-pattin them, wi his paas fan he noticed that eence or twice some o the wee birdies wid come doon aff the branches o the trees, pick up a berry an swalla it.
Fan Brockit hid bin hittin the berries he hid knockit aff een or twa. “I wunner if I could eat them?“ spiered Brockit tae himsel!
Weel, ye kin fit Brockit‘s like. There wis naethin else for it. He jist up an ate a puckle o the berries. It wisna lang afore he stoppit. They didna taste sae fine as he‘d thocht. Naa, they hid a gie orra taste aathegither. Brockit niver ate ony mair, but he hid bin ower hastie at tryin somethin new.
Seen efter he’d aiten the berries his wame got sairer an sairer an he wis aff an rinnin as fast as he could back tae the ferm toon. He got nae further than the ferm road fan he wis affa sick an peer Brockit didna feel at aa weel.
lt wis jist as weel for Brockit that the term-wife heard him an wint an brocht him back tae the ferm-hoose. lt was a gie peely-waaly cratur she cairriet hame. She gave Brockit a gweed dose o satt waater tae mak sure he got rid o aa the orra berries.
lt wis a gie peer-deen-bye Brockit that wis pit tae bed on a wee blanket aside the ferm-hoose fire that nicht. Brockit wis feelin gie sorry for himsel. He wid ken in future nae tae eat onythin unless he kent first fat he wis eatin or that his mither hid tellt him wis aa richt.