Mackeral

I hae mine o’ sellin’ mackeral tae a wummin’ wee an’ stout;

She seem’t tae be as broad as she wus lang.

Oot she land’t wae a basin for tae houl the stripp’it fish,

An’ the wains al follied efter in a thrang.

Oot they come lake steps o’ stairs,

Snottery nose’t an’ ginger hair’t,

But ye niver hard a cheeky word ava;

But the best bit o’ the lot is that them wains haes not forgot

The boy that sowl the mackeral tae their ma.

A big ginger heid’t man come an shuk me by the han,

An’ he saed, I’m sure ye’ll naw know who I am.

I’m the boy that houl’t the dish whun ye sowl the strippit fish,

An’ ye throw’d in twarthy extra for the wains.

Although it’s years ago, I wud lake tae let ye know

That them extra wheen the pangs o’ hunger quelled,

For mae Ma wud always stan an say, there goes a dacent man,

For ye know the crature haesnae much hissel.

Ye know, the wummin’ she wus richt, for bae sowl we got it ticht,

An’ on that big chap’s face there shone his Moathers smile.

For that extra wheen o’ fish I throw’d in the weechels’ dish,

His thanks had joost made life again worthwhile.

Dinnae wait tae dae a guid turn the nixt time.

If ye’re half the man ye think ye ir,

Dae it noo!