Genetically Unmodified

Genetically Unmodified

Genetically Unmodified
(With apologies to Charles Murray’s
There’s Aye a Something)

Fitehillocks is foggin wi keyboards ti play
Yahamas ’n Cassios, he dirls them a’ day.
They a’ hae a buttonie that plays the left han
He gies’t a bit shove an the chords come oot gran.
He’ll gie ye a strum o’ the polka or rhumba
Gin ye trip like a fairy or tramp like a jumbo,
An tunes that will suit ye in joy or in grief,
But there’s aye a something, the wife is tone-deef.

She threeps spellin intil the heidies o’ geets
Five days o’ the week for near forty weeks.
Hillocks redds up the hoose fin she’s at the skweel ,
Syne dirls at his keyboards an sings til himsel.
There’s naebody ti hear him or say ti turn’t doon,
An Hillocks sits there, ti’ the gills amon soun’.
Bit aye there’s a something, the stane in the plum,
Though bairns disna deserve them, the holidays come.

She’ll thole a bit waltz for aboot half an ‘oor,
Bit boogie or jazz gars her facie turn soor.
An Hillocks, because he’s a gweed-hearted breet,
Fits on his bit earphones an tries ti be quaert.
Syne efter three days says, "Ma pettie, ma darlin,
I’ll stan ye the fare ti Teneriffe or Tarlan’."
Bit aye there’s a something, in spite o’ a pleadin’
She be ti bide hame an dee the spring-cleanin’.

Hillocks plays hymns an waltzes til Thursday comes roon,
The amplifier switched aff an the volume turnt doon.
But come Thursday mornin he’ll get jazzin aricht.
She’s awa in the car as seen as it’s licht.
It’s nae Teneriffe, nor yet is it Tarlan’.
It’s awa ti the toon ti fess hame their wee darlin,
Their dother’s young loonie, the last o the line,
Ti bide wi his grunny at holiday time.

He’s keen upon keyboards jist like his granda,
An likes naething better than ti dirl awa.
So Fitehillock’s instructed ti learn him ti play,
They even get leave ti be at it a’ day.
Hillocks needs nae twa tellins ti turn doon the soun
As he tholes the discords an dirls o the loon,
An wishes it he wis in Teneriffe or Tarlan
As he ponders the mixter o genes in the darlin.
Ay, aye there’s a something, the wasp at the honey:
The last o’the line is tone-deef like his grunny.

© P J Goodall

	Genetically Unmodified (With apologies to Charles Murray’s There’s Aye a Something) Fitehillocks is foggin wi keyboards ti play Yahamas ’n Cassios, he dirls them a’ day. They a’ hae a buttonie that plays the left han He gies’t a bit shove an the chords come oot gran. He’ll gie ye a strum o’ the polka or rhumba Gin ye trip like a fairy or tramp like a jumbo, An tunes that will suit ye in joy or in grief, But there’s aye a something, the wife is tone-deef. She threeps spellin intil the heidies o’ geets Five days o’ the week for near forty weeks. Hillocks redds up the hoose fin she’s at the skweel , Syne dirls at his keyboards an sings til himsel. There’s naebody ti hear him or say ti turn’t doon, An Hillocks sits there, ti’ the gills amon soun’. Bit aye there’s a something, the stane in the plum, Though bairns disna deserve them, the holidays come. She’ll thole a bit waltz for aboot half an ‘oor, Bit boogie or jazz gars her facie turn soor. An Hillocks, because he’s a gweed-hearted breet, Fits on his bit earphones an tries ti be quaert. Syne efter three days says, "Ma pettie, ma darlin, I’ll stan ye the fare ti Teneriffe or Tarlan’." Bit aye there’s a something, in spite o’ a pleadin’ She be ti bide hame an dee the spring-cleanin’. Hillocks plays hymns an waltzes til Thursday comes roon, The amplifier switched aff an the volume turnt doon. But come Thursday mornin he’ll get jazzin aricht. She’s awa in the car as seen as it’s licht. It’s nae Teneriffe, nor yet is it Tarlan’. It’s awa ti the toon ti fess hame their wee darlin, Their dother’s young loonie, the last o the line, Ti bide wi his grunny at holiday time. He’s keen upon keyboards jist like his granda, An likes naething better than ti dirl awa. So Fitehillock’s instructed ti learn him ti play, They even get leave ti be at it a’ day. Hillocks needs nae twa tellins ti turn doon the soun As he tholes the discords an dirls o the loon, An wishes it he wis in Teneriffe or Tarlan As he ponders the mixter o genes in the darlin. Ay, aye there’s a something, the wasp at the honey: The last o’the line is tone-deef like his grunny.
	© P J Goodall