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Jenny Stewart's Poems
In Caithness Dialect

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Silver Spoon And Sweyty Sock
by Jenny S Stewart

Ah'm sure that bein boarn till e Stewarts o' Leith Walk,
Twa hard-workin fowkies fey Week,
Wiz caused by a tinkler fa shot at e stork
An e gluff meyde um open his beak.

Ah'm sure ah wiz deemed for e higher poseeshin
Ma doon-fall e Henderson homm,
For some breycht spark meyde off wi wur Chen's silver spoon
An repleysed id instead wi a bonn.

Ah'm sure that ma lekkin for fancy rich nosh
Is no somethane ah choost acquired,
Though ah's brocht up on tattie soup, mince an thick broth
Till fantoosh stuff ma blood wiz soon fired.

Ah'm sure fan ah's little an started till bawl,
At an owld sweyty sock wiz ma tit,
Boot unless royal Drewie taks fancy till me,
Ah'll be stuck here in Week in e bit!