Some things that have been helping me through the last few weeks :
My Husband & Kids
Friends and Family
Family Home Evening
|modelling with tunnocks tea cakes|
|Hanna reading a poem she wrote with her gran (below)|
1. Twa auld baffies belangin tae ma grannie were lyen
beside the fireside beside a smoken pan
2. The pan was ful o porridge ready fur her auld man
who likes to sup it afore bed oot an auld tin can
3. He cowped the porridge oot the pan, it landed an grannies baffies
oh naw said she ya wee idjit they'll huv tae go tae the scaffies!
1. two old slippers belonging to my grandmother were lying
beside the fireside beside a smoking pan
2. The pan was full of porridge ready for her old man
who likes to eat supper with it before bed out of an old tin can
3. He spilled the porridge out of the pan, it landed on grandmothers slippers
"Oh No" said she, "You small idiot, they will have to go to the binmen"
My curse upon your venomed sting,
That shoots my tortured gums along,
And through my ear gives many a twinge
With gnawing vengeance,
Tearing my nerves with bitter pang,
Like racking engines!
All down my beard the drools trickle,
I throw the little stools over the mickle,
While round the fire the children cackle
To see me leap,
And raving mad, I wish a Heckling comb
Were in their backside!
When fevers burn, or ague freezes,
Rheumatics gnaw, or colic squeezes,
Our neighbours sympathize to ease us
With pitying moan;
But you! - you hell of all diseases,
They mocks our groan!
Of all the numerous human woes -
Bad harvests, stupid bargains, cutty-stools,
Or worthy friends laid in the crumbling earth,
Sad sight to see!
The tricks of knaves, or annoyance of fools -
You bears the prize!
Where ever that place be priests call Hell,
Where all the tones of misery yell,
And ranked plagues their numbers tell
In dreadful row,
You, Toothache, surely bears the bell
Among them all!
O you grim, mischief-making chap,
That makes the notes of discord squeal,
Till humankind often dance a reel
In gore a shoe-thick,
Give all the foes of Scotland's well
A twelve months toothache.
|singing O flower of scotland at full volume|
|large dark circle to the right is the tumour|