by Humphlock » Tue Mar 25, 2008 11:35 pm
Here's the last bit of the Ballad of the Torrisdale Toads. Ah hope ah haivena monopolised the threid wae it too much.
But first a wee bit of small print - Humphlock accepts no responsibility or liability whatsoever with regard to any harm or ill-effects of any kind contracted by forum members attempting to emulate the teenage puddocks by smoking dockans or any other vegetable matter indigenous to the shore road.
Meanwhile, back at the Puddocks Perty, things were gettin a bit oot o' hand...
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
The Laird had wandered, as drunk as a lord,
They found him spatchcocked at Hun's Fjord.
He had followed the fiddle's beguiling song
And tripped on his kilt, it was far too long.
They oxtered him back along the shore road,
His legs were dangling, he was jeest a wee toad.
They wondered how he'd got so much hootch,
Then found the empty bottle in his jecket pooch.
The hoolets were watchin', ye know them owls,
They're a wee bit serious, but they're dacent sowels.
They were fair affronted, shocked to the core
At the fearful gollachan on the shore.
Then Tam decided it was time to sing
And, much to the dismay of the prood Puddock King,
He serenaded the bonny young Queen
With I'll take you home again, Kathleen.
He got half-way through, then sterted to dover,
So the King declared the party was over.
Each toad was summoned from his hiding place,
Some sowels were interrupted mid-embrace.
They decided they would go home in style,
They coona face hoppin' back all o' them miles,
So they pulled a divil o' a cheeky stunt,
And went away wi' wan o' Oman's punts.
Tam, now conscious, spent a wee while poterin'
At the outboard, then suddenly they were motorin'.
He did a quick circuit o' Chanty Creek,
Then he wis the first wan to be seek.
As he took them doon inside the islands
They were singin' the best songs from the Highlands.
They woke all the folk that stay at the quay
And shattered the peace of the bay at Portrigh.
Oh, mo chreach, it wis a wild shiroy,
They were throwin' bottles at the Cruban buoy.
The goats on the point wondered whit was wrong,
“Co tha sin a-seinn The Mingulay Boat Song?”
As they roonded the point there wis a nesty jabble
That quietened doon their drunken rabble.
Most o' the toads were gey rough-lookin',
Wi' sore heids now and hoarse from hoochin'.
But wee Tam the Laird wore a radiant smile.
He was the happiest toad in all Argyll.
For they found, when they entered Torrisdale Bay,
That the Puddock Queen had stowed away.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
FIN
Apologies for any Carradale words missed oot o' the poem - ah did ma best within the constraints o' rhyme and reason. Has anybody else got a wee poem in the local twang?