Hats
by Jenny S Stewart

'Wince ah started ah couldna resist thum'  fey tricorns till anes wi a brim,
Set at ma ain cocky angle wi feathers in bunches for trim,
Wrapped in baggies till take oot on Sabbath, they set off ma gear for e kirk,
An ah've fine woollen anes for e Winter, at ah weyre walkin doon till ma work.

Ma Nan's meyde me locks o fine bonnids, some crocheted, she's knitted anes too,
Owld favourite looks lek a plum duff, wi a bow, ids stripped yellow an blue,
Ids a real source o comfort in Winter, lek a tit till a bairn in her bed,
Pulls doon ower yur loogs lek a helmet, nivvur shifts we e gales at we've hed.

Ma moods an ma hats go egither, if ah'm weyrin id pulled ower wan eye,
Ah think ah'm a wumman o intrigue, or even a dark Russian spy,
If ids feathers an straw ah'm e "Princess", though ah'm no beelt e way at she is,
In angora ah'm soft an quite hommly, in felt ah'm a wumman o "biz".

Ah'd nivvur go till a weddin athoot some creation abeen,
A reeg's choost no feenished athoot ane, id make ye feel lek a queen,
An a bricht chirpy number looks cheerful fowk smile fan they see fit ye weyre,
So strength till e milliners business, an doon wi a heyds at go beyre.