AI  FESTIVE SEASON
by W T Lyall

Ai festive season's here again
Thank goodness chuist wance a year,
A time for ye till enjoy yursel'
Hard drink, rich food, good cheer.

Office parties start ai fun
Twa drams wi pals is fine,
Then turkey, neeps an' Christmas pud
An' wash ade doon wi wine.

Twa more drams for auld times sake
Yur tipsy an well fed,
By ai time ye wander hom for tea
Yur feelin more lek bed.

But yur wife's made tea, fried ham an egg
If only ye'd known in advance,
An don't forget yur goin' oot
Till a Christmas dennur an' dance.

More turkey, neeps, an Christmas pud
More dennur, wine, more whisky,
Eightsome reels an' rock an' roll
By now yur feelin' frisky.

Ye take some freends hom feh ai dance
For a final Christmas bevy,
Then ye play at Santa Claus
By now yur feelin' heavy.

By three o'clock yur off till bed
At five yur slumber's shattered,
Ai bairns are in triumphant mood
Games and toys all scattered.

Ye stagger doon till chine ai fun
Ai bairns are hevin' a treat,
Wi' a bit o' luck ye might get back
Till catch up on lost sleep.

Christmas dennur sharp at twel'
More turkey, neeps an' tatties,
Christmas pud wi' brandy sauce
More drams, more wine, be happy.

Then settle by yur oan fireside
Though ai telly might be borin'
Queen Lizzy gave a Christmas speech
But ye wis lyin' snorin'.

Christmas Day ye guzzle on
Mincemeat pies an' coffee,
Christmas cake an' curran' bun
An ai bairns discarded toffee.

By nicht yur feelin' kinda rough
Yur heid's as thick's a balloon,
So ye hev a leig o' turkey
An a dram till wash ade doon.

Boxing Day ye must revive
Though ye manage a couple o' nips,
An' then ye hev a special treat
Fried turkey, sauce an' chips.

Back till work, but no chuist richt
Yur boug's a wee bit murky.
Yur piece box hads a special piece -
Sandwiches made o' tough turkey.

An when ye think yur comin' roond
More lek a man 'ats sane,
New Year's chuist roond ai corner
Here we go again.

Ye knocked back a few at Christmas
But ye'll knock back a lot at New Year,
More rich food an' more strong drink
An' more than a few cans o' beer.

When Hogmanay starts ye lose all sense
How long will ye stan' on yur feet?
Glesses o' whisky bein' drunk at fast
Ye'd think at ade widna keep.

Pinapple chunks an' sausage on sticks
Crisps an' nuts by ai ton,
Pickled ingans an' Cheddar cheese
Shortbread an' black curran' bun.

Ye eit an' drink an' sometimes sleep
Ye've gone a bit ou're ai score,
Then Alkaseltzer an' liver salts
Yur stomag chuist canna take more.

But ye ken fit till do, when ai fun dies doon
An' at last ye get clear o' ai clutter,
Ye'll fair enjoy a hot cuppa tea
An a slice o' plain bread an' butter.