looking back to when I was a lad
They said times were hard, They said things were bad.
Picking up tatties, the pulling of peas
Coming back home with scratched grimy knees.
Screwing the Beetroot, yes that is right
Removing the tops from morning till night.
You couldn't cut the tops off, that made them bleed
Keeping your eye out for the sharp stinging weed.
Finger nails were always full of mud
Scrubbing hands would do no good.
Summer break were still lots of fun
When working the fields were almost done.
We didn't have computers, four channels of TV
Top of the pops were the highlights for me.
Kicking the football out on the street
A clip around the ear from the bobby on the beat.
Looking back it wasn't that bad
Lots of fond memories when I was a lad.
Holidays were over it was back to the grind
Wondering what lessons the teachers had in mind.
I didn't mind maths and history was great
The adventures we made up me and my best mate.
Now that I'm older looking back realise
My whole life's been an adventure through this pair of eyes.
Thank ye all fer coming te this feast
Many a fine lady accompanied by there beast
Enjoy your broth as a wee starter
Were joined together for friendship n banter
Followed by the ode to the haggis
Gentlemen give ya lasses a kiss
Neaps and tatties served with the meat
Veterans and serving here to meet
The pudding is Eton mess
All the lasses are wearing a dress
Athollbross is a drink of the dirt
Even the men can wear a skirt
I dinna Ken what burns is about
But I know that Scots scream n shout
I Ken the man was a jock poet
But how is haggis meant to be ate
A three legged monster running around the Glen
How it manages I dinne Ken
But once ye have caught this wee beast
I guarantee ya in for a feast
Thank you all for joining in
The piper lasse was amazing
Enjoy the music and the crack
Hopefully next year we'll be back
A story once told upon a time by an old man down a mine
On ar streets there were no heat , coal was ar warmth,
mam at the hot stove cooking up a pudding , the tatties on the go, the ones we grow , Jack had caught a rabbit, our favourite on the menu ..
Back in the day I at tu walk 10 mile to work wit best boots on land
and when I got back home to our mam
I Thanked God I kept her waarm
All the love she gave us kept us going on, the magic in the cooking pot , our home
Our heaven
Proud to be her son
Jean, Jean wis young an' alive till Ah gied her tatties and neeps;
Noo she's bein' seek as a dug, it fairly gies me the creeps.
Bonnie Mary O' Argyle took a trip tae the Brig O' Doon,
She took a dook oaf the parapet, ended up nearly bein' drooned!
Wee sleakit, cooerin', timorous beastie, ye must think it a sin!
Aw the lassies a' ever kent, wanted tae stab me wi' a pin.
Blythe Hae a' Been on Yon Hill, where a Tippling Ballad ah Wrote;
Gude Ale Keeps the Heart Aboon, when ye drink an awfy lote.
When ah sairly look doon frae up oan high
Frae ma cloud warmed dookit in the azure sky
At aw the drunken bloated bletherums
Wha meet fur ma birthday's kilted getherums
Tae feast sae dearly oan neeps an' tatties
Wi' yon sonsie puddin' we aye cry haggis
Tae toast wi' wee haufs o'usquebaugh ma name
Ah huvtae admit tae a real sense o' shame
Ah widnae want tae be seen deid wi' ony o'thum.
No e'en fur the whale o' a guid king's ransom.
Sic beanos fur ithers might be fine 'n' dandy
Just gie me time fur a wee bit o' hoochmagandy.
'Twas wi' the lassies ah dearly lo'ed tae gambol
Fur they queens aw did mak ma knees tae tramble.
He turned into a rooster, right there before my eyes
His arms became plump chicken wings, imagine my surprise
His chest puffed out and swelled with pride his back a feathered thatch
His scruffy brogues were cast aside, as he began to scratch.
He started pecking with his nose, his neck shot back and forth
And then he started crowing, with his head adjusted north.
Running round in circles I thought he’d have a fit
and that was why I grabbed him, cause I thought he’d never quit
That was when he started flapping, I thought he’d never stop
To calm him down I used my strength to stuff him in a pot
In my haste to quiet him down It must have slipped my mind
That I’d put some veg and tatties in, soup helps me to unwind
The fire was lit by accident, But how I have no clue
And that was when I realised, My George was in a stew
I’d hoped through chicken farming, a tighter bond we’d forge
and that’s the truth your Honour, why I ate my husband George.
A haggis,tatties and neeps
Cock-a-leckie soup
A vegetable 'haggis'
Drambuie truffles
Whiskey syllabub
One or two
drams !
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