Post-Its

Sair dree, smaa rewaird,
therty year in the job nou.
Nae rummlegumption.
   
 
Photaes: bairn, ex-wife.
Divorce? I never lats on.
Still weerin the ring.
 
   
Monanday's windrift,
Friday micht be Nevermas.
Atween, the days gaunts.
Auld Drysdale's mottae
gauns, "Aye keep caain awa!"
Ay! (my erse will I).
   
 
Speugs chirms an cheepers,
thae three lassies in Accoonts
castin up the stour.
 
   
Young chiels kens aathing:
cockin, daffin, crawin crouse.
Minds me o mysel.
The job I daes here
a machine wad better dae
(no that I'm sayin).
   
 
Daur say I'v no been
promotit abuin my fit.
Nae ettle, aye miss.
 
   
Friday's nicht, whisky,
thinkin on Kate that aye smiles.
Ay, hen, here's tae you.
© Sandy Fleemin 2005. First published in Lallans 64 (ISSN 1359-3587).