Carradale

[Bochan Mor]

15 minutes later he was primed and ready to deploy a silent but deadly biological weapon.

Aye Bochan mor, I did hear right enough that a fart from the dale could clear the Vic. Was it wan of them Oman specials. Wee buggers right enough. Maybe some charcoal fae the ashes in the dips on the ferm road at Morenish's would help.

bubbly

Ach the Wee O's discharges are no more severe than the burst bubble in the Chimp's compass. Naw, the youngest fla falls in a sliding scale some where between Paterson & Keyte on the richter scale. Exactly where, depends on whether or not he's been at the herring & pickled onions. The older fla's trombone is hell-of-a loud, but only mildly fragrant. Just like his mother! I'm not quite sure which would be the best for gathering to fuel Gary's Landrover.

Ten-Gallon Boab seems to be struggling a bit with the language right enough, but I dare say that we all would, if we were confined to over yonder. Give her another few months, and I'm sure she'll improve.

[Bobbie En Tejas]

Ten-Gallon Boab seems to be struggling a bit with the language right enough, but I dare say that we all would, if we were confined to over yonder. Give her another few months, and I'm sure she'll improve.

LOL.. Ten-Gallon Boab! Cute. Yes, give me a few more months please! Hell, I've been in Texas since the 1980's and I still can't talk like a Texan or a Mexican for that matter! (Although I can say, San Ando nyo.) Brought up in Buffalo, lived in Florida, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and what do i sound like? Like I'm from Minnesota! How sad is that.

[oorly gourlay]

(Although I can say, San Ando nyo.) Brought up in Buffalo, lived in Florida, New Mexico, Arizona, Texas, and what do i sound like? Like I'm from Minnesota! How sad is that.

Eh

oorly

[dgraves]

C'mon, Bobbie, we don't say San Andonio! The 't' is definitely there. Its San Antonya!

ps- sssshhh...She's not a true Texan

[morenish]

well,well i dinna think the school weans would manage such a big meal, them bein fed sugar puffs all the time

[Bitter End]

Feedin school weans! Wi mine its lik thtowin buns at elephants!,an thers nae fat oan thim!Anither year an ahl be hirin McF's tae bring ther feedin frae Glesga.

[Bitter End]

On a serious note Hae ye seen Witchhazel's post on the Goats site? By the size o the mannie he kin hae jist as many wundmulls as he waants! ahm no goannie try an stoap him! (see C. Goat Nov 27)

[witchnettle]

away you big woose, as you men are always saying size isn't important, he might be a big lad but stealing a windmill, i ask you where on earth is he going to hide it? it'll stick out like sore thumb x

[Bitter End]

Naw ahm jist a wee woose but a bit o a survivor! --better a livin cooard then a deid hero!!

[Whips & Jingles]

Hey guys, I see Witchynettle has returned to ensnare a few more weary pilgrims under her spell of enchantment. Who is this mystical rose that says that 'size doesn't matter'? Did you see her photo on the Goat Log, of the man carrying one of the Tellytubby's windmills up towards the big yins at Deuchran. I got the feeling that the poor soul might be metaphorically peeing into the cold North wind!

Who remember rolling in the nettles along the edge of Springwell in July? Purely coincidentally, every following morning when the docken juice wore off, I always realised: 'That was a bit of a rash move!!' No, I couldn't do it now. Besides, the now Laird of Springwell would more than probably take a barbary cane to my posterior. OH the thought, would it still be the same!

[Bitter End]

Ma sowel it wisna the rash thet wis that bad whin the docken juice wore aff ,it wis the next few hours pickin the gorse oota yir boady thet made ye think-nivir again! --------- till nixt time. an ahl jist leave it tae yersel tae play wi they barbary canes.

[dgraves]

15 minutes later he was primed and ready to deploy a silent but deadly biological weapon.

Aye Bochan mor, I did hear right enough that a fart from the dale could clear the Vic. Was it wan of them Oman specials. Wee buggers right enough. Maybe some charcoal fae the ashes in the dips on the ferm road at Morenish's would help.

bubbly

Ach the Wee O's discharges are no more severe than the burst bubble in the Chimp's compass. Naw, the youngest fla falls in a sliding scale some where between Paterson & Keyte on the richter scale. Exactly where, depends on whether or not he's been at the herring & pickled onions. The older fla's trombone is hell-of-a loud, but only mildly fragrant.

Not quite Rabbie Burns

Oh what a sleekit horrible beastie,
Lurks in yer bellie efter a feastie,
Just as ye sit doon among yer kin,
There starts to stir an enormous wind.

The neeps and tatties and mushy peas
Start working like a gentle breeze,
But soon the pudding wi' the sauncie face
Will hae ye blawin' a' ower the place.

Nae matter whit the hell ye dae
A'body's gonnae hae tae pay,
Even if ye try tae stifle
Its like a bullet oot a rifle.

Hawd yer bum ticht tae the chair
Tae try tae stop the leakin' air,
Shift yersel fae cheek tae cheek
Pray tae God it disnae reek.

But a' the efforts go asunder
Oot it comes like a clap o' thunder,
Ricochets arrond the room
Michty me! A sonic boom!

God Almighty it fairly reeks
A' hope a' huvnae nuts ma breeks,
Tae the bog a' better scurry
Whit the hell, it's no ma worry-

A'body roon aboot me choakin'
One or two are nearly boakin'
I'll feel better for a while
Cannae help but raise a smile.

It wis him! I shout and glower
Alas too late, he's just keeled ower
Ye dirty bugger! They shout and stare
I'm no that welcome any mair.

Where e're ye go let yer wind gang free
That sounds jist the joab fir me,
Whit a fuss at Rabbie's party
Ower the sake o' one wee ferty!

[Pete Reek]

Well, well, well! That by the way is the story of the 3 wells!!
There is a new poet on here all right.
Bubbly will probably be giving his Parsons Nose a fair bit o skartin while he thinks on a few verses to follow that. And follow it he will, of that you need have no fear.
Brilliant D, got a good giggle out of it.

[dgraves]

Pete, that poem was sent to me today- I don't know the original author. Do you?

I'm sure Bubbly, with his imagination, could come up with some to match-

[witchnettle]

my dad would always say with an evil glint in his eye before the room was filled with reek.

"where ever ye be let yer wind go free,
church or chapel, let it rattle"

I suppose it was his way of warning us.