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2003 – Fin I wis a quine – Sandra (More) Stewart

 Lang summer days
Stretchin’ for ivver an’ ivver
Nichts that were warm
Han’s held the gather
Dookin’ an’ catchin’
Widin’ in the sea
The san’ in yer taes
– The hum o’ a bee –
Sunday frocks
An’ stra’ hats sae fine
Pandrops ye sooked’
For an afa lang time
Sermons that bored ye
Richt oot o’ yer min’
Sankies an’ mothballs
Fin’ I wis a quine

Aul’ wifies in black
Wi’ a moochtie stink
Wallies in the street
Fin’ ye needed a drink
Shoppies wi’ sweeties
In plentious supply
A thripenny in yer pooch
“Noo, fit’ll I buy?
Bella Woppie’s ice craim
Or a licquorice stick
Coo candy, lucky tatties
Or a soor sherbet dip?
Och, a bottle o’ broo
Will dae me jeest fine”
Oh me, fit decisions
Fin I wis a quine

The pier an’ the boaties
An’ mannies an’ loons
Labsters an’ partins
An’ nets that were broon
Hingin’ on pailins’
Tae dry in the sun
Smellin’ o’ tar
That gart yer een run
Aul’ mannies wi’ lunders
An’ bonnets an’ reek
Cha’in’ tobacco
An’ clocherin’ in the street
Broon bree on their chins
Aye, I mine on that fine
Nae sign o’ hygiene
Fin I wis a quin

Sheddes an’ dallies
An’ dressin’ up claes
Up  the hatch tae the loft
On caul, rainy days
A gramophone wi’ a hannle
Tae mak it go roon’ –
– Hale fast fin ye ca’ed it –
An’ sine it slowed doon –
Streets that were sannie
An’ guttery fin weet
Trippin’ ower stainies
An’ near brekkin’ yer feet
Bit smashin’ for sledgin’
In the caul’ winter time
Oh me, we enjoyed wirsels
Fin I wis a quine

Noo the school bell wid ring

On the borders o’ nine
Nae excuses wid dae,
If ye wisna on time
Ye’d be fairt tae go in,
For fit ye wid get
For we a’ kent we wisna,
The teacher’s pet
Bit if yer Dad wis the doctor,
Or hid some kinda standin’
They widna dare gie ye
Ony mishandlin;
An’ oh me, fin nature called
An’ yer legs wid be twined
As ye spluttered “Please excuse me”
Fin I wis a quine

Granny an’ Da
Auntues, uncles an’ cousins
A’body hid somebody
There seemed tae be dozens
Fin Dad wis awa fishin’
Ye nivver felt lang
Ye jeest veesited yer fowk
You an’ yer Mam
An’ oh, the stories an’ tales
O’ bygone years
Tho’ ye’d heard them a’ afore
Aye hed ye in tears
Life wis that full
There wis nae time tae pine
A’thing seemed richt
Fin I wis a quine

Lang summer days
Hoo I treasure the thocht
Thankful for memories
That canna be bocht
A richness o’ life
That wis halesome an’ free
An’ hearts that were open
For a’ tae see
But noo autumn’s here
An’ it’s a’ lang syne
Thinkin’ o’ days
Fin I wis a quine