"Och," said auld Reverend McSporran, "I weel mind where I was that very morran!"
Wee McGreegor looked doon at his twa feet, "Maister," he said, "I am goantae greet."
"Ach, dinnae greet laddie, y'ken, wipe yer feet and come awa' ben"
Wee McGreegor stumbelt intae whit had wance been the church. When he saw the devastation, his wee stomach gave an awfy lurch.
"Maister," he cried, "The bonny church is awa'!"
"Och no' it isnae," said the kindly Rev., "in fact it is naw!"
"But maister," mumbelt Wee McGreegor, "the snaw is at the thaw!"
"Aye," said the kindly Rev., "and the weather is braw!"
Wee McGreegor sat doon and took oot a saw, "Wid ye like for me tae whittle ye some wid?"
"Naw," said the Reverend, "I'm awfae afraid that would be nae gid!"
Both of them stood and looket up at the sky, where gull and peewit came tumbelin' by..
Wee McGreegor gave a sigh, "Well maister," he said, "we maun a' try!"
At that, the Reverend gave an awfy cry,
"Take a look at the windaes when ye are in by!"
Wee McGreegor lit up a fag on the fly,
Noat the fly o' his breeks. That hidnae been done up for weeks,
"Aye," he sighed, as he took a wee fly puff, "I think that I hiv done enough,"
With that, he gave a turn, and ambled doon the heather, abune the burn.
"Och, "growled the Reverend, "Damn this mirk! Ah maun gang inside and shine up the bonny kirk!"
He didnae see the wispy trail o' smoke...
Dinnae any o' youse bairns dae this! For it is nae joke.
And it may gie ye the green boke..
Author notes
How your local church got burnt down...
With suitable apologies to McGooglegal...
In a list
- A List of Tribute Poems to Bonnie Scotland and to Great Scots Writers like Irvine Welsh, William McGonagall & Robert Burns etc. • next in list
- Wonderful Tributes to Barry Hodges • next in list
A contest entry
- Memories Are Made Of This by Barry Hodges.
400 points, ended September 14, 13 entries
Silver trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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Ach, noo, a'am richt greetin' that thon bonny pome geid ye ony siller, but ye mon agreet thet Northampton is mair accessibubble for yon masses than this wee kirk ist.
Your generous words outdo mine in their generousness of generosity for which I mun give you great thanks. And - whoops - I must have been exhaustippated when I wrote exhaused. Thanks for letting me know - even Barry missed it????
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Ta for the silver, I'm honoured tae be,
Given such a braw trophy by one such as thee,
And now I'll go oot for a stroll in the air
My sporran all burnished, with never a care.
McGreegor's quite knackered, he lies still abed
He's pu'd a' the covers tight over his head
But I spotted some Woodbines beside his wee pillows,
Which I think he maun puff while he floats on the billows,
Ach weel, now I'm off tae shine up ma fause teeth,
Or wallies, ye ken,
Best Wishes, frae Keith. -
I wud be the bonniest Christmas I ivver hud eff ays saw the kirk had goat burnt doon. But the proablem wi' thus effin' country is thit thair's no' enough gadges wi' bawws big enough tae dae the joab.
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Och, Barry. Your words are so kind,
I am going to raise up the blind,
O bugger, it's stuck,
I am right out of luck...
Or do I mean, out of my mind?
Keep up the vernacular. Irvine Welsh is looking for a ghost writer. Or should that be roast goitre? Shairly no'!
Dinnae you wish me awesome luck in the competition. I've a'ready stubbed ma toe twice! And three's a charm, I believe they say,
Best Wishes, K. -
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Ah hud a wee bitty trouble wi' mah computer, ye ken?
Irvine Welsh? Ah ken the c***t, eh. Eh'll no be gittin' any free wurrds fae ays, eh. Eh's nowt but a wide-o, in mah opinion, yah c***t. Ah'll git mah coat.
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