It's not about the house.

Saturday, July 7, 2007

Glaswegian Wood

If a door has no knob, then a door needs no lock –
Though if you say “handle,” you must be a jock
(That’s Irish for Scottish, if you haven’t guessed –
For LadyScot won this week’s poem contest).
The closet sat bursting and open for years
But when finally empty, it triggered John’s fears.
He shoved on the door, I heard it go “click”
And I shouted “That door has no handle, you dick!”
(Though I didn’t say “handle” – I just like the lilt.
Even if I am one-quarter tartan-plaid kilts,
I’m no parts blood sausage, which LadyScot likes,
And no parts (ick) haggis, though I do dig bagpipes.)
From now on, though, I’ve got to make these questions harder
Anybody can see there’s no knob on the larder –
I can call it whatever I want: it’s my house.
If I can call this poshy fop an old scouse,
And Lady a jock, and Johnny a jackeen,
Then my closet’s a larder (once it gets cleaned).

4 comments:

mp said...

Well you are Scott Irish and German on my side, and though Da claimed Irish heritage..... He came from Scotland and had the best burr I have ever encountered. So.......

EGE said...

Mommie, dearest,

It is not for us to tell the Irish that they are not Irish, no matter what their accents sound like...

Especially when they're dead.

LadyScot said...

I love the poem. Thanks. Scots/Irish black pudding sounds a whole lot better than saying the American blood sausage (I'll stick to black pudding, thank you). Oh, and haggis, you don't know what you are missing!! well, you probably do since you think it's icky. (I have to admit to having only eaten it on the rare occasion - like when my cousin made it for the Burn's Supper) ;)

EGE said...

Oops. I meant black pudding...

Don't tell Johnny!