'Come in ! Come in !
Mind yer heid oan the loabby lamp.
I've jist made five gallons o' home brew.
Ye can help me make a dent in it.'
Joe.
Lobey Doser & co.
Ye up? Yup! Giddy up!
I fair get a tingle ridin' atop my single saddle.
Wimmin try tae tempt me.
But the meenit the pantry's empty.
I skeedaddle, single saddle.
Wi' a clippity clop, I hop atop my single saddle.
The Glesga Keelie.
Sittin' oan a settle in a seemmit made o' string.
Listenin' for the kettle beginnin' for tae sing.
Shoutin' at the missus, 'Is the tea no' ready yet.'
Lookin' through the Racin' Post tae hae anither bet.
Coverin' o'er his baldy patch an' puttin' oan his troosers.
Goin' doon the bookies jist tae find that they're a' losers.
Swillin' doon the heavies like a man doon in the dumps.
Smokin' like a haddy an' coughin' up big lumps.
Singin' goin hame an' feelin' pretty pally.
Stumblin' through the rain an' lookin' peelly wally.
Fumblin' for his key an' as quiet as a moose.
Grumblin' when his missus shouts, 'Ye're no' gettin' in the hoose.'
Thinkin' which wis always very difficult for him.
Shoutin', 'If I bring up twa fish suppers will ye let me in.'
Hearin' her shout 'Aye' he puts his fingers doon his throat.
Watchin' seven pints o' heavy cascadin' doon his coat.
He's jist a Glesga Keelie really.
Brought up like a' the rest suckled oan his mammie's breast.
Big ootsiders wi' butter thrown tae him doon in the gutter.
Shoutin', 'Mammie hae ye no' goat jeelly.'
He's jist a Glesga Keelie really.
josephsharp@ yahoo.com
