Scottish Word: Tyne.
I dinni miss them that I used tae cairt aboot nor them that were on mha road for I wid be sure tae tyne their life. It’s cos o them that I huv no contact wi … Continue reading Tyne.
I dinni miss them that I used tae cairt aboot nor them that were on mha road for I wid be sure tae tyne their life. It’s cos o them that I huv no contact wi … Continue reading Tyne.
Onie mair o yer snash an I’ll gie ye anither knap or twa or three tae mind ye yer manners. Translate: knap: A lump, bump, any rounded knob; a knot or protuberance; to knock, strike sharply, … Continue reading Knap.
Anither rip tide swimmer that’s droonin. Gruppin their would be rescuer like a limpet ahn thrashin awa agin the current, goin nowhere. They remind me o aw the conspiracy theorists ah ken. It aw seems so … Continue reading Sweem.
Jings that wiz Sinjin Pithoolwait efter a rabiator oan the back o Sangria and she’s got a bleezin skelter on. She’s losing twigs o birch frae her besom at a feersum rate which micht gar her … Continue reading Skelter.
First the neb: A dirl o a stang tae mha neb richt awa wi the snell smeeky reek o a choked lum aboon a pew ilk an auld dug oot o the oxter o a lang … Continue reading Smeek.
Them vicars are o the taum efter the scrimpit amoont whit landed oan the collection plate yesterday oan tap o the general puir kirk attendance. Then being gien the task tae keep them pair refugees frae … Continue reading Taum.
John Anderson, my jo, John, When we were first acquent; Your locks were like the raven, Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings … Continue reading Brent.
Hey Brandreth dig oot anither type o oor environmentally freendly bug-aff skoosh. This muckle hairy golach seems tae hae a taste for this yin. It’s no buggin aff. In fact ah think it’s startin tae like … Continue reading Golach.
Nou mah wee petal there’s nae need tae skreich on so. Here’s a lolly for ye ahn a’ll gi ye anither when we’re hame. Wi dinni want yer bonnie wee dulcet toned singin voice spoiled do … Continue reading Skreich.
“Weel done Cutty-sark!” Excerpt from the poem: “…But here my Muse her wing maun couer; Sic flights are far beyond her pow’r; To sing how Nannie lap and flang, (A souple jade she was, and strang), … Continue reading Cutty-sark.