“Willy - red and shining, his spectacles bemisted, voice glutinous, alcohol sweating from every pore - had sung what he called an old English madrigal in his harsh, thick Scots; at the end he had walloped down, like a porpoise stranded by the tide, on the sofa where Mary sat, and given her a succulent porpoiseful kiss on the nape of the neck. It had been a good turn and everybody had laughed.” DrinkMaryMadrigalScottish RenaissancePorpoiseWilly Gibb Book:Chapman 47-48: Tom Scott / Ann Scott-Moncrieff Source: Chapman 47-48: Tom Scott / Ann Scott-Moncrieff
“Ye canna mak a pudden oot o pig's meat, Ye canna big a hoose wi twa-three stays, Ye canna plant a tattie when the grund's weet, Ye canna ploo the hillside wi yer taes, And is it like, my love to be Thoo'll kin to mak a wife o me? The whitemae's filings arena done in wan nest, The minnow's aten by the eel alive, When cat and dog lie doon there's poor rest, The wild bee maks a fight within the hive, And is it like, my love, to be I'll can mak a wife to thee?” LoveMarriageScots Language Author:Ann Scott-Moncrieff