Reflections On E Kirk          by Jenny S Stewart

Fit springs till yur mind fan ye think on e kirk,
Div ye choost see e Sabbath as day off yur work?
Or set off lek heroes wi bible in han',
Till settle in pew for a snooze if ye can.

Now, don't think ah'm preychin, ah'm no choost snow-white,
Ah've been known till compose though ah ken id's no right,
While e Reverend delivers his sermon at twell,
Ah sometimes switch off an think till masell.

Ah look roond e pews an inspect all at's ere,
Feye bairnies at fidgit till fowk wi grey hair,
Ah ken fa feels sleepy an watch heydies droopin,
Ah'll mention no neymes then ye'll no say ah'm snoopin.

Ah love seein christenin wi proud mams and dads,
while e infant looks up at e stranger at hads
Um an socks um wi water, he canna think why
He wid weet um on purpose, he's happier dry.

So he gets his own back an thinks "Richt, ah'll bawl,"
An e sounds o his howls go richt roond e hall,
Droons oot benediction an cowns ower last hymn,
Then e meenid he's ootside his lips tilt in grin.

Now weddins - id nivvur stops till amaze,
At "Oh perfect love" is eye choice hymn o praise,
Id's pitched kinna high an e guests nivvur sing,
Though thur's eye wan brave auntie fa's lone voice will ring.

Ye eye ken a new bairnie at's ere for first look,
They gaze roond in wonder as sweeties they sook,
Slide doon for a wander an speak through e prayer,
While mam shuts her eyes an pretends she's no ere.

Fan e sermon comes roond ye'll hear quite a bustle,
As fowk dish oot sweeties an peyperies rustle,
E odd roll an clatter, a pandrop let loose,
An culprit's e only reyd feyce in e hoose.

Ah dinna go till e kirk for till spy,
Id's choost at fowk's habits eye capture ma eye,
In ceyss Reverend Robertsons's waitin till speak,
Ah promise ah'll try hard till listen nixt week!