I love me a good proverb and I love all things Scottish (aye, ’tis in me blood, so it is), so when I came across these little morsels of Scot thought, I knew that I was going to share them.
I can almost hear these said in my grandma’s voice with her subtle Dundee accent. Fifty-odd years in Canada softened but did not erase her Scottish accent, pride or attitude. She sure crammed a whole lotta lady into her 4 foot nine-inch, if she was a foot, frame. My grandpa’s accent stayed thicker, but words of wisdom that he would impart would more often include someone’s thumb and meeting their ass, much to the eternal disgust of his wife. If nothing else, the proper Scots lady and the gruff Scots fella were fiery to the end.
I spent a lot of time with my grandparents while I was growing up and often while my grandpa tore around the city streets ignoring stop signs and other cars, my grandma and I would sit in the backseat of what felt like ‘the getaway car’ and sang this song.
A couple of speeding tickets, the occasional hit-and-run in a parking lot and a whole lot of very colourful language peppered our drives. Come to think of it, maybe our singing that song was why the poor man drove like such a maniac. Hmmmmm.