ramblings and things

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t'owld bugga

my oldest friend, expatriate Yorkie in self imposed exile on the Isle of Mull, keeping himself busy running his boarding house and sampling the ale and scotch, has a senior birthday due tomorrow.
this is in east riding dialect just for him and his long suffering lovely wife.

t'owld buggas gerring owlder
‘idin' up there in bluddee Mull
but we aint gone en forgotten ‘im
way down 'ere in bluddee Ull

us'll ave a minnits silence
in respect of owlden  days gone
‘cos fer me ‘n' t'owld bugga
bluddee time keeps movin'on

mebbee next year in towbermoray
if we aint gone dead er blind
but ‘til then thee remember
us'll be keepin'thee in mind

'n' we wish ‘thee ‘appy botthday
'n' ‘ope thy ‘and ‘n' gob still meet
‘cos we don't want thee waistin' ale
spillin' it ovva thee bluddee feet.


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t`owld bugga