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Caithness Poets 

Caithness Arts

Ma Sister
Jenny Stewart

Ah hev a sister, Chanis, we both get on richt fine,
She’s five feet fower o’ dynamite, hez hert lek pure gold mine,
Ah’m bidin’ ower wi hur choost now, ma mam’s on holiday,
So Leith Walk ah’ve foresaken now, in Polteney for till stay.

She lives in terraced hoose o’ stonn, ah’ve roomie till masell,
Though bairns at rise at half-past six can make id kinna hell,
Thurs wan o eych, aged six and two, pure mischiefs, thur’s no doot,
Boot Aunty Chen, e "royal nanny" fair can sort them oot.

Wur no alek, me an wur Chanis, hez hur faithur’s chin,
Peedy feyss, a wiry boady, never halts, she’s thin,
A worrier, a chatter box, her towng goes ten til dizen,
White ah choost let e world roam by, an look lek dough at’s risen.

She’ll tackle any kinna thing at’s needin till be done,
Fey decoratin, soartin mowers, she reckons id’s all fun,

She’ll wield a screwdriver at wance, dismantle ‘thoot a care,
An Stick id all egithur, while masell, ah widna dare.

If ah’m skint, she’ll spare a quid an nivver say a thing,
Though if id gets till fiver ah’ll return id, or ah’d hing!
Her hoose is always lek ma ain, ah hev a key an all,
An if ye fancy cookin’ for ur, man, ye’ll hev a ball.

Mind, we wizna always chums, fan little, boy we’d fecht,
Ma mithur hed till soart his oot an set wur battles strecht,
Boot as we grew up differences dispersed till none at all,
She’s no so much ma sister now as choost a richt good pal.

See Also
Caithness Dialect
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