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       Sunday Papers
James Begg

I wish 'at Bellum wid hurry up
He should hev been here an hour ago
I'm watin for my sunday Post
I suppose he could be stuck in the snow
But he shouldna be so late the night
He's got his new van on the road
I hevna seen her yet masel'
They say she takes a right beeg load

Is at him coman 'er jist noo
Twa peedie lighties showan
I'm gled o' at-ma feet are numb
But thank the Lord it's stopped snowan
The van pulls up jist right aside ye
Open the door, and what a sight!
He's got a lot o' stuff inside her
She takes a right beeg load all right

He's got sweeties piled up at the door
In caedboard boxes and bags
Mars Bars, and Pandrops, Milky Ways
Some lquorice pipes and sweetie fags
I says "What's wrong at yur at leite?"
"The train broke doon", at's yur excuses
If ye telt the truth
Ye stopped too long at yon New Hooses

Weel, weel, my boys, I'll no had ye back
See an no get lost
I'm away back 'till my ain fireside
Till read my Sunday Post