There's Nae Pooches In Shroods (a poem by Syd Scroggie)
There's Nae Pooches In Shroods
Nae buttons on his troosers
Nae collar on his sark,
He lived on bliddy soo'ins
An' hoofed it till his wark,
His barry hadnae ony wheel
His hatchet ony heft,
But forty bliddy thoosand
Wis what the bugger left.
---
He didnae tak' a glass o' beer
He didnae hae a smoke
He didnae even carry roond
A hap'ny in his poke,
His welly bates wis lattin' in
His jeckit shoothers reft,
But forty bliddy thoosand
Wis what the bugger left.
---
His dug wis skin and banes, mon
His cat fair sterved tae death,
His budgie couldnae whistle
For want o' bliddy breath,
His roof wis full o' missin' slates
His tables fairly cleft,
But forty bliddy thoosand
Wis what the bugger left.
---
His table legs wis prappit up
Wi' books and ony thing
His chairs wis rowed thegither
Wi' bits o' bliddy string,
His auld, deen, plush upholstery
Had neethir woof nor weft,
But forty bliddy thoosand
Wis what the bugger left.
---
He didnae hae a wireless set
He didnae hae the phone,
The spyuggies looked fair through wi' it
Wi' hunger on his roan,
O' a'thing ye'd ca' luxury
His hale life wis bereft,
But forty bliddy thoosand
Wis what the bugger left.