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Lyrics composed by
John Henderson on the 7th of April, 2008
to Angus Fitchet's playing of part of, 'The Dancing Dustman'.
(A tune probably written for his father who was a 'Scavenger' by
occupation.)
Stottin alang, ma tractor's gings bang, an blaws oot bleck reek
an aa;
Gin its coorse-blickers dinnae stap, richt-aff o' her Ah'll faa.
Och !
Fit's tae be deen, Ah speer tae masel, fyle tichtenin up ma
grip,
Her reekin an aa her stottin's gien ma hin-en sich sair-jip.
Syne !
Stappin the bitch, Ah ging fur ma tools, an engeen ile frae ma
hut;
An ile chynge'll stap maist o the reek bit winna tak tent ma
butt.
Losh !
Fit can Ah dae, Ah speer tae masel, sae ma hurdies they winna
birse;
The feedle ow'r big, aince mair tae dig, an micht-ainly mak
things worse.
Weel !
Ay fit Ah'll dae, it'll be the best way, gin aa anse pruvs tae
fail;
Ah wull git-me a safter pilla fur pittin aneth ma tail.
Ah'm,
Clivver ye ken, fest lik Ah lern, makin guid eese o' ma heid;
Nae birses nae piles, nae spittin iles, ma tractor rins smeeth
indeed!
Ay !
Thon's whit Ah did, Ah wis in guid tid, the gress it seem'd easy
cut;
Ma neb it wis clear, the stots nae fear, wi rubber aneth ma
butt;
Till,
Whit dae ye ken, fest tho' Ah hid lern'd, foryettin tae check
ilk tyre,
Ah sherpishly fun, Ah'd rin agrun, unseated tae tak a flier ! |
