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“Ye canna mak a pudden oot o pig's meat,
Ye canna big a hoose wi twa-three stays,
Ye canna plant a tattie when the grund's weet,
Ye canna ploo the hillside wi yer taes,
And is it like, my love to be
Thoo'll kin to mak a wife o me?
The whitemae's filings arena done in wan nest,
The minnow's aten by the eel alive,
When cat and dog lie doon there's poor rest,
The wild bee maks a fight within the hive,
And is it like, my love, to be
I'll can mak a wife to thee?”
―
Ye canna big a hoose wi twa-three stays,
Ye canna plant a tattie when the grund's weet,
Ye canna ploo the hillside wi yer taes,
And is it like, my love to be
Thoo'll kin to mak a wife o me?
The whitemae's filings arena done in wan nest,
The minnow's aten by the eel alive,
When cat and dog lie doon there's poor rest,
The wild bee maks a fight within the hive,
And is it like, my love, to be
I'll can mak a wife to thee?”
―
“Well, George Buchanan was a bit of a romancer, there's no denying; he gave Scotland the credit of being a nation long after we ceased to be one... who are we to mock George Buchanan?”
― Chapman 47-48: Tom Scott / Ann Scott-Moncrieff
― Chapman 47-48: Tom Scott / Ann Scott-Moncrieff
“Willy - red and shining, his spectacles bemisted, voice glutinous, alcohol sweating from every pore - had sung what he called an old English madrigal in his harsh, thick Scots; at the end he had walloped down, like a porpoise stranded by the tide, on the sofa where Mary sat, and given her a succulent porpoiseful kiss on the nape of the neck. It had been a good turn and everybody had laughed.”
― Chapman 47-48: Tom Scott / Ann Scott-Moncrieff
― Chapman 47-48: Tom Scott / Ann Scott-Moncrieff
