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Poetry
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The Wheasel
By Talisker
31 January 2007
Another one in the series.

We fund the wheasel at the end o’ the gairden,
an’ catcht it in an auld emulsion tin.

It leuked fur a' the wurld,
like a wee, wee dachshund,
birlin' aroond the tin, a roustie blur,
wi’ elderberry ees an’ a bonnie wee white bib!

We gied the puir saul some gress an’ moss,
juist tae mak ‘im feel mair at hame.
Then we cairyed him tae ma mither’s kitchie.

Git that bluidy thing ootie here!

Oli 31/01/07

Reviews

Written by Marybarry (237 comments posted) 31st January 2007
 
Loved this one also. More please. 
What is a bubbly jock? 
patricia
Hi Patricia
Written by Talisker (1326 comments posted) 31st January 2007
A bubbly-jock is a turkey (previous poem). 
 
The erstwhile denizen of Sir Bernard Mathew's Hotel, must have escaped from a passing lorry.  
 
If it had known its fate was to be asphyxiated in Sean's smelly school sock, it would probably have taken its chances and stayed on the truck! 
 
Oli :)

Written by Bottleblondesurfer (3362 comments posted) 31st January 2007
My sympathies are with your poor mother here. Sometimes your poems in the vernacular don't always work for me but this time it all worked perfectly,especially as the last line was spoken. I can see it had to be written like that; and do I detect a sense of fun creeping through- things must be looking up [well it made me smile anyway 
Lovely stuff 
J

Written by Phil (6730 comments posted) 31st January 2007
Liked this very much. These are lovely to read aloud and let the words roll around the tongue. Memories or fiction? 
 
Phil.
Thanks Phil
Written by Talisker (1326 comments posted) 31st January 2007
Memories! real memories! 
 
Oli

Written by Phil (6730 comments posted) 31st January 2007
Good. Real stuff is so much better than made up.

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