" With all their grammatical intricacies and deviations from standard vocabulary, dialects can sometimes become almost like separate languages. Indeed, a case is sometimes made that certain varieties are separate languages. A leading contender in this category is Scots, a variety of English used in the lowlands of Scotland (and not to be confused with Gaelic, which really is a separate language). As evidence, its supporters point out that it has it's own dictionary, 'The Concise Scots Dictionary', as well as its own body of literature, most notably the poems of Robert Burns, and it is full of words that would leave most other English speakers darkly baffled. Although Scots or Lallans as it is sometimes also called, is clearly based on English, it is often all but incomprehensible to other English speakers."
Excerpt taken from Bill Bryson's book "Mother Tongue"
"It sounds a bit like the Parable of the good Samaritan"
I was reading, DAMN FEW AND THEY' RE A' DEID, a book on Stonehouse written by a friend, and I came on an item about Stonehouse Witches, this is a reply to a letter in the 'Hamilton Advertiser' local newspaper around 1857. The description of Stonehouse and humour (humor) being good, I thought I would share it :
Regarding the above it is where a person is replying to someone running down Stonehouse and referring to witches in Stonehouse . The person replying says Stonehouse is a wonderful place, good for the health and that Witches were got rid of long ago, but you could become bewitched by some of the young ladies in Stonehouse.
A wee humorous Stonehouse story from away back.
"I needed the hale road mysel"
A young man being out at a drinking spree one night, arrived home somewhat late, and a little elevated with the good cheer, after all the family were in bed.
When he came in he began to wind up the clock, which was his practice before going to bed, his mother hearing him said "Ye wadna meet mony folk on the road at this time o' nicht". "Deed , no" says he, " there wadna thole to hae been mony, for I needed the hale road tae mysel".
English: (you wouldn't meet many people on the road at this time of night).
Indeed not, says he, there wouldn't need to be many as I needed the whole road to myself)
Here is a poem about the River Avon.
Dook, can mean to submerge in water, at children's parties to this day they talk about "dooking for apples", where they try and fork an apple using a fork held in the teeth.
'A Dug a Dug' Written by Bill Keys of Kirkintilloch
The Holy Mice by Tom Sorbie
Within the Church Hall we do run.
Around the nooks and crannies having fun.
We appear at times and cause alarm
If only they knew we meant no harm.
In the Kitchen we eat the crumbs
It is obvious leaving these we’re chums
However if they change their mind
We better go, leaving nests behind.
Now we're told we are a pest
Not a place that is our rest
Where to go we do not know
Out into the cold winter snow.
Before we go it was nice to hear
The hymns being sung loud and clear
It will be hard to find another Hall
With food and music to suit us all.
St Machan’s was a lovely home
Now we have to search and roam.
To find a warm place without a cat
Another Church, a Hall or cosy Flat.
SPECIAL POEM FOR SENIOR CITIZENS!!
A row of bottles on my shelf
Caused me to analyse myself.
One yellow pill I have to pop
Goes to my heart so it won't stop.
A little white one that I take
Goes to my hands so they won't shake.
The blue ones that I use a lot
Tell me I'm happy when I'm not.
The purple pill goes to my brain
And tells me that I have no pain.
The capsules tell me not to wheeze
Or cough or choke or even sneeze.
The red ones, smallest of them all
Go to my blood so I won't fall.
The orange ones, very big and bright
Prevent my leg cramps in the night.
Such an array of brilliant pills
Helping to cure all kinds of ills.
But what I'd really like to know...........
Is what tells each one where to go!
The Moosie's Prayer by Unknown Poet
A puir wee moose guy forlorn A poor wee mouse very forlorn
Its furry coat fair sairly worn Its a furry coat very sorely worn
Sank doon upon its baney knees Sank down upon its boney knees
And prayed for just a wee bit cheese And prayed for just a wee bit cheese
The tears ran doon its wee thin cheeks The tears ran down its wee thin cheeks
But nane could hear the saddest squeaks But none could hear the saddest squeaks
That drifted on the cauld nicht air That drifted on the cold night air
Till whiles it couldnae pray nae mair. Till it couldnt pray no more
Syne daylicht cam,the kirk bells rang Then daylight came,the church bells rang
The doors swang open wi a bang The doors swung open with a bang
Communion day had come oan bye Communion day had arrived
Wi wine and plates o'breid piled high With wine and plates of bread piled high
The wee moose lay as still as daith The wee mouse lay as still as death
And watched it a' wi baited breath And watched it all with baited breath
Then thocht 'if I keep awfee quate The thought if I keep awful quiet
A bit might just fa'aff a plate A bit might just fall off a plate
And so it gazed as roond they went And so it gazed as round they went
Then just as tho' twas heaven sent Then just as though it was heaven sent
Whit landed richt upon its heid What landed right upon its head
But twa lumps o' communion breid But two lumps of communion bread
The staff o' life lay on the flair The staff of life lay on the floor
Then,bounteous answer tae his prayer Then bounteous answer to his prayer
Just as he thoct'It looks fell dry Just as he thought 'It looks so dry'
Ae body couped some wine forbye A person tipped some wine as well
Wee moosie stoated up the aisle We mouse bounced up the aisle
Wearin' sic a boozy smile Wearing such a drunken smile
The folk stopped singing,fair aghast The people stopped singing really aghast
Tae see a drunken moose walk past To see a drunken mouse walk past
The organist fell aff his chair The organist fell off his chair
The meenister could only stare The minister could only stare
Tae see this drunken sinfae moose To see this drunken sinful mouse
Cavortin' in his sacred hoose Cavorting in his sacred house
At last it staggered up the nave At last it staggered up the nave
Then turned an' gied a happy wave Then turned and gave a happy wave
I ken noo when it's time tae pray I know now when it's time to pray
I'll dae it oan Communion day I'll do it on Communion day.
"Bonnie" by Tom Sorbie
My wee Collie dog is called Bonnie
If a boy it would have been Ronnie
Every morning at six I am awake
Not with a noise or a good shake
But with a cold nose on my cheek
Glad she’s not a bird with a beak
Then out to the garden for her wee.
Same spot beside a small rose tree
I have to watch her like a hawk
She is off at times with my sock
With sharp teeth she eats my shoe
Just as well the shoe is not new.
Soon Bonnie will be fully grown
What will face her is not known
To me Bonnie is a great wee Gal
A lovely collie dog, loyal Pal