"A WEE SCOTCH NIGHT"

If ye chance to strike a gathering of half a dozen friends,
When the drink is highland whisky, or some chosen Border Blends,
When the room is full of speiring, and the gripping of brown hands,
And the talk is all O'tartans, O'Plaidies, and O'clans,
Ye can take things douce and easy, ye can judge you're doing right,
For Ye've had the luck to stumble on A wee Scotch Night.

When Yoo're pitchforked in amongst them, in a sweeping sort of way,
It's another man, or brother, from the Tweed, or from the Tay.
When Yoo're taken by the oxter, and couped intae a chair,
And someone slips a Whisky in yoor Tumbler, - unaware,
Then the present seems less dismal, the future fair and bright
For Ye've had the luck to stumble on a Wee Scotch Night.

When ye hear a short name shouted, and the same name shouted back,
Til ye think in the confusion, that they've all been christened Mac.
When ye see a red beard flashing in the corner by the fire,
And a giant on the sofa, who's six foot three, - or higher!
Before yu've guessed the colour, before you've gauged the height,
Ye've comed to the conclusion, it's a braw scotch night.

When the red man in the corner puts his strong voice to the proof,
And he gives "A Hundred Pipers" and the chorus lifts the roof,
When a cheil sings "Annie Laurie" wie its tender, sweet refrain,
And tears come frae the eyes, and the drinks come round again.
When they chant a stirring war song that would make a caird fight,
Then ye know you're in the middle of, a Wee Scotch Night...

When the blood begins to thicken, and the band begins toplay,
and every tinpot Chieftain has a word or two to say,
When they'd sell a Queensland Station for a sprig O'Native Heath'
When there's one Mac on the table, and a couple underneath,
Half O' them are sleeping, and the whole O' them are tight,
Then ye know ye've been assisting at a Wee Scotch Night.

When the last big bottle's empty, the dawn breaks gray and cold,
When the last clan Tartan's folded, the last damed lie's been told,
As they stagger down the pathway, in a brave and broken line,
To the Peril of the passers, to the tune of "Auld Lang Syne."
Ye may tell the folks at breakfast, as they view that fearsome sight,
you've only been assisting at, - A Wee Scotch Night.

.....written by an anonymous


Speiring = Enquiring, asking;
Douce = Gentle, easy;
Oxter = armpit
Couped = overturned
Chiel = an ordinary chap
Caird = coward.


In the Milholm Cross...the semi annual Clan Armstrong Trust magazine...The editor, (Joe of Gateshead) mentions on page 26 about M.C. Billy Young's rendition of "A Wee Scotch Night"..at the Annual Armstrong Gathering.....I'd given a lot to have been there and heard it live. Thanks,Joe.


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