The Twa Bubbly-Jocks

The Twa Bubbly-Jocks

Munro, Mary

This tale is set in an auld corn yaird in ony fairm in the North East. It's a fine day in October fan the Autumn licht is like gold on the heather braes an there's jist a hint o winter keekin roon the neuk. Twa bubblyjocks are takkin the air, newsin awa aboot naethin in general an the life o a bubblyjock in particular

Wullie: Weel weel Sandy, fit like the day? Gran day fur the time o year!

Sandy: Ay ay min, Wullie, I'm nae sae bad. Foo's yer doos? Ay peckin?

Wullie: Aye it's a gran life bein a bubblyjock in this cornyaird. See thae hens
an duiks? Fit a life, peckin an scrabblin aboot aa day fur a bite tae eat
amang the stour an the hay rucks. We bubblyjocks are special.
Fit a set up we hiv here, ye ken. We've nae need tae bother oor beaks
aboot lookin for meat. That kitchie deem is here twice a day wi pails
o thon fine bran an mash.

Sandy: I ken, it's great. I heard Maisie sayin that we were comin on fine.

Wullie: I heard that tee. Bit I'm kinno prood that she pinted me oot. Her very
words were 'Thats the ane for us- that ither ane's gey shargared.'

Sandy:A sharger am I ? Fit a bloody chikk. I canna help it. I gobble awa aa
day an I dinna seem tae grow like you.

Wullie: The auld fowk wad say that it's gaun in till an ill skin. Heh Heh
(sniggers) Look at my bonnie stoot breist on me, an my wattles are
twice as big an reed as yours.I'm a rare lookin chiel!

Sandy: Fit a blaw. Yer a richt puffed up deevil

Wullie: Na na. Haud yer feathers on. I'm jist tellin ye fit the kitchie deem
said yestreen.She kept pintin me oot tae the orra loon an sayin
'That'll be the best ane for Christmas. Look at the fat breist on him.'

Sandy: Fit's Christmas, like? I've niver even heard o that afore.

Wullie : I dinna ken. Bit it souns affa important, an it looks like I'm the only
een they're needin. You're nae eese by the look o't. Niver mind Sandy
I'll gie ye aa the news fin I get back.

Sandy: (sadly) Thats real gweeed o ye Wullie. I'll jist need tae consol
masel wi bein the bubblyjock that's left oot. Gweed God fit a heat in that
sun. I'm fair ferfochan the day. Let's daunder ower tae the lade an
watch the feel duicks haein a dook.

Wullie : Fair eneuch. Aye, it's a great life. Naethin tae worry wir neeps aboot
an plenty gweed meat. I'm gled I wis born a bubblyjock an nae a hen.
I maun say I'm fair lookin forrit tae this Christmas they're aa yaakin aboot.

The twa o them wander aff tae the duicks, weel contented wi a bubblyjocks'
Moral: Fit ye dinna ken disna worry ye.