Do you speak Glaswegian? Glaswegian refers to Glasgow, Scotland. Glaswegian looks a lot like English, but what about words like wad and strunt? Go ahead, see if you can read the Robert Burns' poem, "To a Louse."  If you have trouble, you can consult the Glaswegian dictionary at: http://www.rampantscotland.com/SCM/glesca.htm And another one here: http://www.lehuanet.com/ScotSpeak/ or look at the version of this poem posted at: http://www.robertburns.org/works/97.html   where many of the words are  underlined and you can see a definition if you place your mouse cursor over them. Just remember, this poem is talking to a louse (a blood-sucking insect) crawling on a rich woman during church services.  Not your usual topic for a poem. For more information about Robert Burns, visit: http://www.robertburns.org http://www.rabbie-burns.com/index.cfm   Robert Burns 1759-1796 An older language used in Scotland is Gaelic. Here's a website with links to Gaelic dictionaries: http://www.ceantar.org/Dicts/		To A Louse On Seeing One On A Lady's Bonnet, At Church By Robert Burns, Scotsman, in 1786  Ha! whaur ye gaun, ye crowlin ferlie? Your impudence protects you sairly; I canna say but ye strunt rarely, Owre gauze and lace; Tho', faith! I fear ye dine but sparely On sic a place.   Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner, Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner, How daur ye set your fit upon her- Sae fine a lady? Gae somewhere else and seek your dinner On some poor body.   Swith! in some beggar's haffet squattle; There ye may creep, and sprawl, and sprattle, Wi' ither kindred, jumping cattle, In shoals and nations; Whaur horn nor bane ne'er daur unsettle Your thick plantations.   Now haud you there, ye're out o' sight, Below the fatt'rels, snug and tight; Na, faith ye yet! ye'll no be right, Till ye've got on it- The verra tapmost, tow'rin height O' Miss' bonnet.   My sooth! right bauld ye set your nose out, As plump an' grey as ony groset: O for some rank, mercurial rozet, Or fell, red smeddum, I'd gie you sic a hearty dose o't, Wad dress your droddum.   I wad na been surpris'd to spy You on an auld wife's flainen toy; Or aiblins some bit dubbie boy, On's wyliecoat; But Miss' fine Lunardi! fye! How daur ye do't?   O Jeany, dinna toss your head, An' set your beauties a' abread! Ye little ken what cursed speed The blastie's makin: Thae winks an' finger-ends, I dread, Are notice takin.   O wad some Power the giftie gie us To see oursels as ithers see us! It wad frae mony a blunder free us, An' foolish notion: What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us, An' ev'n devotion!