
Scottish Word: Soond.
I’m going to share mha secret scone recipe on this wax cylinder furlie for aw youz in the future. Whit can ah say, ahm a techie. Ah hope ye enjoy mha soond effects. “Sift 32oz, o … Continue reading Soond.
I’m going to share mha secret scone recipe on this wax cylinder furlie for aw youz in the future. Whit can ah say, ahm a techie. Ah hope ye enjoy mha soond effects. “Sift 32oz, o … Continue reading Soond.
OK … it’s a braw menu an I’ve ordered the mergh rich shin bone wi a liver pâté an a side o lettuce. Ahn I ken it’s a howf whaur ye kin eat in yer bath … Continue reading Mergh.
Here’s hoo its goin tae go doon. As ye weel ken – us cats rule the multiverses – as it’s aye been – and it’ll go very bad for your species if ye deal oot onie … Continue reading Kippage.
Listen ya daft dug, winter’s gone. I’m no gonna kick ye along oniemair and I’m telt silence is wisdom – better than onie speech. Hoo-ever. Everything has its saisons, an we hae tae tak tent o … Continue reading Saison.
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.
Wait, wait – let me repay ye wi an aipple. Ye spared my life by no eatin me even tho yer hungert. Ah ken ye like them. It’s frae my secret stash o special aipples anaw. … Continue reading Aipple.
It’s irrelevant that ye sprauchle up a tree cos ye hae a gastrous dreid o cats ya munce ye. Trees is oor second hame. How dae ye no know that? Onywye what cat’s gonna disreul itsell … Continue reading Sprauchle.
We’re no gonna rook ye entirely, we’re no thon sort o pirate. But gie us yer siller wrapped in yir five pund note, we ken aw aboot it, yir bow tie, your collar, an forby thon … Continue reading Rook.
Bob the saw-fish’s nebs mebbe no as shairp as a new boucht bushman but he’ll risp that moggies air pipe swith eneuch. We’re lucky – if we were in a bowl in the warld o that … Continue reading Risp.
That damn burd’s a clash-bagger, clyping on me tae the dug ahn no a tree fur miles. Translate: clash-bag: a tell tale. That damn bird is a tell tale, betraying me to that dog and not … Continue reading Clash-bag.