The evening will start quiet,
But sassenachs who are in the know,
Are preparing for a niet.
For all the Scots who venture south,
Have gatherings one learns,
Where they drink strong drink and eat strange food,
And talk of Rabbie Burns.
When men wear kilts not trousers,
The girls dance highland flings,
To Jimmy Shand's accordian
And Moira Anderson sings.
T'was early in '87,
When the fateful letter came,
From Pat 'n Jim at 49,
Inviting us 'tae their hame'.
For hours and hours we pondered,
As we held it in our hand.
For despite our best endeavours,
We failed to understand.
Until at last assistance
Came from a helpful Scot.
Not from heathen Glasgow,
But that nicer Edinburgh lot!
So yes we'll be delighted
To come and join the throng,
To help to drink your whisky,
And sing a Scottish song.
But can we ask one favour,
If the evening is to suit,
Don't kill a poor wee haggis,
It's the piper you must shoot!
At last we have translated wot you writ in funny verse
and as we can't write Scottish our answer must be worse
we tried with French and German but couldn't get the hang
of anything at all except Cockney Rhyming Slang
To your dram we can't both come because we got this trouble (NOT strife)
we cannot bring the husband; so your stuck with me the wife!
I'll put put the warpaint on me boat, and comb me Barnet (Fare)
and bring a bottle with me when I climb your apple (& pear)
For Nigel's got to fiddle, perhaps while Rabbie Burns
because he does this shift work, (that's how his loot he earns)
but please don't feel as well you might, that he don't give a tom(Tit)
I'm coming with a doggie bag to sneak hime back a bit.
We hope you get this message just a soon as you get home
(because you're both at work all day we couldn't dog (& bone)
so one of us is coming and one of us is not
I hate this bloody typing so that yer naffin' lot
We thank you for your kind invite
but don't know if we'll fit
because you see we're English
with just a little Irish bit
We'd love to come and join you
but don't know what to wear
should it be an English outfit
or have a slightly Scottish air
Warwick hasn't got a kilt
and I've only got a frock
Can we come in usual clothes
or would that cause a shock
Warwick's lack of Scottish kilt
is really so upsetting
He's got such lovely legs, you see
but my tartan skirt won't fit him.
So, perhaps you'll let us know in time
if we need to go and hire
some Scottish clothes to wear that night
to be in right attire.
'Twas at the gathering of the Clans
South of Hadrians's Wall
In a Sassenach's town called Purley
Jim and Pat Leggate held a Ball
Colin and Eunice gratefully accept
The invitation to come and watch
All the festification and frivolity
And share in a glass of Scotch.
He said wee sleekit coorin' timrous beastie
but there's nae panic in our breastie
We will come wi mirth an' patter
what we eat it does nae matter.
the evening of jan' twenty-four
will find us knocking on your door
Some golden liquid we will bring
pour it well an' you'll hear us sing.
wi food an' ale an' whisky flowing
a' the evenin' we'll be glowin'
to celebrate in style superior
the birth of a bard in no way inferior
We've run out of time
For a Scottish rhymw.
We've struggled in vain
Nearly driven insane
But nothing is worse
Than a horrible verse
Enough of this baloney
From Angela and Tony
Have no fear
We'll be there
(I'll raise a few cheers
with ou... ar... me deers)
The sna' it's deep an' the wind it's cauld,
There's whiles I think I'm gettin auld,
But on the night o' Rabbie's birth,
We'll still get fou o' drink an' mirth.
The wind outside can blow its worst,
We'll a' eat haggis till fit tae burst,
We'll sing and dance an' bring guid cheer,
An' drink some drams an' a drappie beer.
I'll bring the pipes, ye can be sure,
I'll warn ye now, they can sound dour!
But wi' the help o' famous Groose,
There'll be some skirlin' aboot yer hoose.
We'll leave the bairn in able hands,
An' come oorsels, and bring oor cans,
If you maun know who wrote this stuff,
It's Susan and Ken - and that's enough.
At rhyming verse I'm not too grand,
But I'll have a go if you think I should
Even though my ode ought to be banned,
'Cos it's too hard to be understood.
I wandered lonely - no that's been done before
My lines must be original.
But wait a while there's not much more
Before I give my signal
The signal that will tell you
If to your party I want to come
The answer "Yes" confirms I do
I'd love to have some fun.
