Scots Language

**Pour1Malt** · 6th June 06, 02:51 AM

makin fantoosh cocktails wuz ya?

guid oan ya- ai dae thot mysel...

but they no arr better than a guid auld malt served neat!

**Moose McLennan** · 6th June 06, 03:38 AM

Originally Posted by Pour1Malt

makin fantoosh cocktails wuz ya?

guid oan ya- ai dae thot mysel...

but they no arr better than a guid auld malt served neat!

Ah'll gie ye that...

Ah mind years ago whin ma wife's faither wis in the infirmary eftir a hert-attack. He telt us he hud wan o thon near-death experiences in intensive care, but then he hud a dream that ma wife's hail faimly wis straight roond tae drink the boatil o Bowmore ma parents had gied him oan thair first visit (he'd aye kept it locked up guid) and he voud that it wis yon dream that brought him back frae the brink! He collectit mony mair malt whiskies eftir that.
Sad tae say, his hert got him in the end. We take a wee dram at his grave bytimes tae his memory.

M.

**Pour1Malt** · 8th June 06, 11:19 AM

the fierst time ai drank malt wuz in a wee auld mon's pub in Edinbura in 1986...

the auld gent oan the stool next tae ma asked if ai'd hae a malt wi' him...

"ya can drink whisky (Blended Whisky) alain... but Malt has tae bae shared" he said...

"aye" says ai...

he orders oop twa dram o' Talisker fraim the barmon....

an ai tasted ma fierst Malt... the wa it shuid bae; shared...

luekin forward tae sharin yin wi' ya sometime MooseMon....

**Pour1Malt** · 19th June 06, 02:29 AM

maire Scots....

fraim oor local Guid Nychburris parade...

**Pour1Malt** · 19th June 06, 02:30 AM

**Pour1Malt** · 23rd June 06, 03:32 AM

**Pour1Malt** · 23rd June 06, 03:37 AM

maire Scots Poems...

JOE DUGG

In spring Joe Dugg the gairdener

Plants raws and raws o leeks.

At Christmas time he pous them oot

And stuffs them doon his breeks.

by Kirsty Grieve

**Pour1Malt** · 23rd June 06, 03:38 AM

MRS NAE OFFENCE

We cry her Mrs Nae Offence -
That's whit she likes tae say,
Afore sayin somethin awfie,
Then heidin on her way.
"Nae offence, but see yon skirt ye bocht,
It maks ye look gey fat."
"Nae offence, ye're like a standard lamp
When ye wear yir new blue hat."
"Nae offence, but see yir perfume,"
She whitters like a doo,
"It minds me o thae yellae cubes
Ye get in a laddies' loo."
"Nae offence, but see yir hairdo,
Ye must hae been a mug
Tae fork oot twenty quid for that -
Ye look like a Pekingese dug."
It fell upon ma granny
Tae pit her in her place.
Gran skelped her wi a brolly, sayin,
"Nae offence, but shut yir face."

by Gregor Steele