Oor Wee Hoose!

Welcome tae oor very ain talent room!! Fur yoos oh ye that thought ye wur comin tae a wee cattle market like yon discos...sorry!!!

This is a respectible place fur folk who ur talented tae show their talents aff! So if ye ur a poet, a comedian, or huv some uther talent ye want tae share send it tae us an we wull pit it oan here.......only conditions ur it must be clean an it must be yer ain wurk, we huvnae got any money fur folk tae sue us for copyright!

Under the icy Mist
Of the mystical land,
Strong and Proud
The snow covered mountains reign
Abundantly and richly supplied.

Sun setting O'er the Loch's
illuminating all that stands,
With its magestic beauty,
Northern lights
sparkle like gems.

Magnificent countryside,
Moores of purple Heather Wildly Bloom
White Lace flowers heartfelt...
in natures bounty i stand
my blood rushes.

The ferrys sail in stormy seas,
pouring rain and whistling winds howl,
overcast ,the norhern stars radiate
lighting the way,
feeding me life...

The Higlands pipes live on
With warrior spirits
roaming Free...
Breathless in this Magical Kingdom
forever in my heart Scotland,
resting my eternal bounds
A Rainbow over Scotland Flys..

This is a poem fae Wendy......a cracker eh!!

Home Sweet Home

I miss the sky I knew as a lass
Yellow and orange, with a hint of blue
Reflecting the shadows of the earth below.

I miss the sea slapping waves on the beach
Sometimes dark and forboding with a hint of gray
Where starfish and crabs bask in the heat
Streaked with the sun's golden rays.

I miss the hills I knew as a lass
Purple and mauve with a hint of green.
Heather and thistle bending in the breeze
Hiding the grouse and the cuckoo.

Now they're all in my mind, wrapped up in love
Where I can just linger and dwell for a while
A gift from above, planted there for my pleasure
Sweet comforts and blessings, all these things I treasure.

Anuther brilliant poem........fae

Margaret Lawrence!

CLANCY'S COO

Noo ! Clancy wis a fairmer...wi' sheep an' mony cattle -
He'd ca' the coos fir milkin' wi a bright blue fitba rattle -
So Daisy, Bluebell, Clover an' a' the ither beasts
Wid amble on doon tae the shed like they were on a leash ----
But MAISIE, noo she widnae cum but hung away behind...
Hopin' fir the luscious grass the ithers didnae find -
It didnae matter much tae her she wis upsettin'Clancy
Fir there was just sae mony things tae fairly tak her fancy.
Noo.Clancy wis a canny man..no yin fir clack an' prattle
But he wid git a head o' steam when she ignoredhis rattle;
He thocht an' thocht an' thocht an'thocht.. then he thocht sum more..

How he cuid git that Maisie tae hurry thru' the door -
Egads ! he said..the verry thing tae cure her slow malinger...
I'll jist daunder doon behind an' prod her wi ma finger.
Weel off he went tae Maisie and creepin up behind
He gave her rear a mighty jab tae git her back in line -
Yikes..she took aff at sic a speed wi'hooves an' tail a-flyin...
She passed the ither coos sae fast..noo honest a'm no lyin...
That a' the rest were left fir dead wi' hoof marks oan their backs
And Clancy noo jist has one coo tae wander doon the track -
But aye a'm no quite feenished...fir tae keep a herd o' cattle -
Be awfy carefu' chasin' coos where ye wid stick yer rattle;
Poor lonely Maisie wanders roond.. nae company tae keep...
Fir she rattles when she walks and she rattles when she sleeps !.

This stoater wis fae oor wee pal

Ella Render aka Hazy Maisie

RAB'S THOUGHTS

Lying there in my hospital bed,
I had the strangest dream,
I was wondering o'er a Scottish moor
Beside a highland stream

I had walked awhile but soon got tired
and sat down on a stone
when I had the strangest feeling
that I wasn't there alone

I glanced around the heather clad hills
That still abounds with deer
But a Scottish mist hung o'er the moor
And I couldn't see real clear

When from out of the mist ghost appeared
His face was kind but hard
Who can this be surely not
'twas Scotland's national bard

What greater pleasure can there be
Than sit by a clear trout stream
And have a chat to this great man
Who's held in such high esteem

Robert Burns may I ask
Your thought on the world today
Apart from technology
Has it changed in any way

Rab rubbed his chin he thought awhile
He really took his time
'cause as you may already know
Rab liked to speak in rhyme

Mans' inhumanity to mans still there
That's so painfully plain
Like on the streets of old Port Arthur
Or the school playgrounds of Dunblane

There'll be wars more wars and rumours of wars
Until the end of time
Yet you have so much knowledge
Your life could be sublime

The twentieth century has now gone
And the new millenniums here
Yet innocent children throughout the world
Are hungry and live in fear

There is one thing that hasn't changed
That what you're experiencing now
The dedication of the nursing staff
Let them stand and take a bow

There was many a war torn hero
Returning a sorry sight
Got on his knees and thanked his god
For those ladies dressed in white

Rab, shook my hand and gave a smile
And was gone in a puff of smoke
There standing by my bed
Was an angel of whom he'd spoke

This brilliant poem wis written by oor

great wee pal J.F. Pudney!!

WHIT SCOTLAND IS A' ABOOT

We are the natives true and proud
Who saw the Romans a' awa'
When Claudius sent an army here they came and took a look
'We canna conquer these Picts of auld, they willna be enslaved'.

The English came an' tried, wi' muskets cannon tae
We only had oor claymores an' dirks tae fight wi' see
But we widna be enslaved.
King Edward, he was worse of a'
We want their land their cattle tae
Kill every Mother's son.'
He sent an army big an' strong an' slaughtered many bairns.
Our fluers o' the forest fade awa'
But we rose up again, na we widna be enslaved.

Aye, oor brave Wallace they took awa'
But he widna bow an' kneel.
'Cut him up,' King Edward said,
'Send him in parts back hame.'
This only aroused oor Scottish wrath an' Bruce led us tae fame.

''Twas on the field o' Bannockburn oor Scottish flag was given
The English many, aye that they were,
We Scotsmen were so few.
'Look!', look!,' cried Bruce, 'Up there in the sky.'
We looked... we saw... we were in awe...
White clouds had gathered ina cross against a sky o' blue,
We had oor flag, The Saltire,
We'd nae be bossed nae mare.
King Edward frightened at oor wrath fled the field in shame.
Nae mare did he dare trouble us, oor hame we made it safe.

Now whit's this Scotland like ye ask,
Och I'll tell ye true
We've mountains here, ye ken,
Ben Nevis climbs quite high.
But if ye come here in winter, spring
Be sure ye wrap up warm.
Ye'll see the Highland cattle dae, an' even grow a beard.
Ye mustna miss a chance tae visit a' oor lochs
an' dinna be surprised if Nessie gawps at ye.

Och, the Lowlands tae are a bonnie sight
Wi' hills an' rollin' glens
At hush of eve'n tide ore'r hills beyond the Clyde
Ye'll see young laddies roaming there
Wi' there lassies by their side.

I'll tell ye mare o' Scotland, Brave and True.
Now ye darena wear the Tartan here
Unless ye've Gaelic blood
Each clan has it's own weave ye ken
An' its nae for sale nor lend.
Careful now if ye've Gaelic blood
Ye pick the Tartan true
For in that we willna bend.

On special days we wear oor kilts to celebrate oor rights
An' at Highland games we gather there an' wear the Tartan proud.
On ither days trews we wear tho' Tartan they can be.

Now we widna change the way we speak
Tho' the English often laugh
But not as much as we dae tae
At their plummy accent...they're daft.

If ye come here, ye'll always find
A welcome true an' warm
An' as ye gang aft hame again ye''ll hear a voice cry out.
'Will ye nae come back again'

This brilliant poem wis written by Thomas Kennedy (Author of 'Glasgow Remembered')

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