Tuesday, 14 June 2011


I was just reading Darren G's thoughts on a subject close to the heart of most of us Ulster-Scots - Tay - and I thought I'd post a wee rhyme of my own.


A cudnae dae wioot ma tay,
Tae stairt me aff maist ivery day,

“A wee drap in yer haun”, the’ say,
Wairm, wat an strang,
Tha thang tae keep tha drouth at bay
Tha hale day lang.

Ma mammie larned me fae a wean
Tae wairm tha pot an no pit tay in,
Tae tha watter’s fairly plumpin, an
Then ye dae it.
“Ye teem tha watter owre tha tay, an
There ye hae it.”

“Them tay-bags irnae guid fur ocht”, ir
“It’s aye tha loose tay we hae bocht”, ir
“Yin spoon fur ivery boadie, dochter,
‘An yin fur tha pot.

An pit it doon fornent tha fire
Tae keep it hot”.

Noo maist fowk cannae be annoyed.
The’r no parteeclar hoo it’s made
The’ hinnae larned tak a pride
In ocht daen richt.
Och, it’s mair nor tay’s haes me dismayed -
(A waesome sicht.)

But nooadays, iz A wus sayin,
A cannae thole tha wye it’s daen.
Y’ir gien an empie bicker an,
Ye mak yer brew,
Wi pumpie flesk, taybag an spoon,
T’wud gar ye grue.

Tha hale thing is jist quare an reuch,
Thon watter’s niver hot eneuch,
Luks lik it cum strecht fae a sheugh,
Tha brew’s aa gray.
Gin thon’s “gan forrits”! A say “Yugh!”

Fur thon’s no tay.

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