Twa Gulpins Meet

A wus sittin at mae supper whun tha dure hit gawt a chap
Hit’s onlie me a Boadie Gowls an in steps Big John Watt
Sez I sit doon ye boy ye, an let is share yer crack
A’ll jist redd up these pratas and then a’ll be straicht bak

Sez I, A’m gled tae see ye, sez he A’m gled ye’r in
Sez I, Ye’r luikin richtlie, but yer gittin hurried thin,
Sez he, Hit’s het an loggy, sez I, An hoo’s the peats,
Joost a normal conversation, whun kintra gulpins meet

Sez he a boy wus tellin me ue write an odd aul rhyme,
Sez I, the’s harlly poetry, but sure the pass tha time,
Sez I, A’m fond o Rabbie Burns, Fur he wrote joost as he spoke.
An tha wie we taak’s important tae iz aul kintra folk.

Sez noo A’m nae poet, but if can rise a mile
Bae poo’in sumdie’s leg a bit, sure hit maks tha thang worthwhile,
Thaur naeboadie safe fae tha wizard’s pen, an maist can tak a joke.
Thaur’s a jolly thang aboot iz, iz aul kintra folk.

Thaur’s M’Lernon an M’Laughlin, an thaur’s them thats gane awa,
The lacht an saa tha fun in’t, nae hairm was in’t ava.
Aye some hae cross’t tha golden shore, but leeve on in mae rhyme,
The Rhymes wull stan whun a’m in stoor. Och! Tha steady mairch o time.

Sae tak fae me a weebit tip, pit ye’r thochts doon on tha paper,
For strange tae stay that flimsy dheet can jook and bate tha Reaper,
Heth naw A’m naw fur preachin but niver be a scorner,
For ye niver know nor dae I, whut’s waitin roon tha coarner.

Min whut a toul ye, thaur’s at least yin guid rhyme in iveryboadie.

© Charlie Gillen and The Ulster-Scots Language Society