Bonny-Bonny-Bonny

The language of the old Scots, so familiar to me,
A lovely descriptive dialect so flowing and so free,
With no English equivalent a meaning of their own,
Go on a Celtic journey, the seeds of words now sown,

The soft sounding “wee bairn” better than “ little child”,
To say it gives me a “fair scunner” is basically putting it mild,
Some kids  “breeks” threadbare, not a “bawbee” in their pooch,
That “Peely-wally loons and quines” never ever asked for much,

Out in the country you can see the “kye” chew the cud,
See kids ‘barkit wi sappy dubs” from playing in the mud,
I remember being “ill trickit” “ hud yer wheesht” I was told,
Occasionally got a “skelped lug” when acting a trifle bold,

When sitting down for a “blether” then asking  “foo's yer doos”,
No need to be “doon in the mou” when a “wee dram” lifts the blues.
Now don't get yourself in a “sotter” if your “stocious” with the drink,
If in the hands of local “polis”  you choice is the “wifie” or the clink,

The weedgies are from Glasgow,  the cheuchters in the north,
They have “ingins, neeps and tatties” as vegetables in their broth,
Some people like to play the “gype” and make out there a “feel”
They are not as “glaikit”as they look, they know what's the deal

When a wee bairn has a “greet”, there's a “bosey” cosy and warm,
For those less “trachled and wabbit” a “birling” knee is the charm,
Well I'm “forfauchan” from just “bletherin” on about a time,
When words held a special meaning,for poetry and the rhyme

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