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G Bruce Thomson

                                             Afore that I'd be terraneezed as I this file hae been,
                                             I'd raither rin' frae here tae Birse wi' peez in baith ma sheen,
                                             I'd raither dee for want o' breath than pine for want o' love,
                                             And it's a' because McFarlane merrit Sousie.
                                             Sousie's kankert faither wi' mine could niver gree,
                                             And aye fan I'd gae ower that gait he'd turn his dog at me.
                                             So I sent ma freen McFarlane doon to see fit he could dee,
                                             McFarlane o' the Sprots o' Burnieboozie.
                                                        I dinna like McFarlane, I'm safe enough tae state,
                                                        His lug wad cast a shadow ower a sax-fit gate.
                                                        He's soft as ony goblin and slippery as a skate,
                                                        McFarlane o' the Sprots o' Birnieboozie.
                                            McFarlane spak nae wird for me but plenty for himsel',
                                            He reesed the lassie's baurley scones, her kebbick and her kail.
                                            Her faither cried oot 'Sprottie man, ye should try yer luck yersel','
                                            Tae McFarlane o' the Sprots o' Burnieboozie.
                                            Though McFarlane is the grimmest chiel for twenty miles aroon,
                                            Though they buy his fottygraph tae fleg the rottens frae a toon,
                                            He kittled up his spunk at this and spiered gin she'd come doon
                                            And be mistress o' the Sprots o' Birnieboozie.
                                            Oh, a dirl o' the teethache's nae particularly sweet,
                                            Bit love's the only power on earth that iver gart me greet;
                                            It's like kittlie chilblains roon yer heart instead o' roon yer feet -
                                            They were aggravated wi' the sicht o' Sousie.
                                            Noo freens and kind philosophers, ye've heard what me befell;
                                            Niver lippen tae the middle man, bit dee yer work yersel',
                                            Or I'll bet my hinmost sarkit ye're a day ahint the markit
                                            As fan I sent Jock McFarlane roon tae Sousie.
                                                       I dinna like McFarlane, its affa' bit it's true;
                                                       A pewter speen wis tint in Jock McFarlane's moo.
                                                       He couldnae weel be grimmer, sups his brose wi' the skimmer -
                                                       McFarlane o' the Sprots o' Burnieboozie.
Footnote : We will finish year 2002 with this amusing Cornkister from the pen of G Bruce Thomson. It was one of my late father's favourites and  the author of the song was known to his relations.


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