The Golf Widda

The Golf Widda

THE GOLF WIDDA

Chrissie wis a gweed wife, thrifty an skilled,
The claes clean 'n hale, the bakin tins filled.
She wis on ilka committee faar a gweed wife should be,
She wis busy 'n kindly an weel humoured tee.

Sandy her man played golf aye at week-ines,
An left her at ploys wi Earth Science freens.
There wis an expert on ocean floor spreadin,
An a bearded professor on cleavage an beddin.

They studiet tectonics an basalt an schist,
Rock strata an fossils, an aafa lang list
Wi magnifyin glasses an acid for testin
It's queer fit some bodies will think interestin!

But ae day Chris wis kissed ahin a schist stane
By the bearded professor, an she liket it fine.
Oh, Sandy, oh Sandy, forget that fite baa.
Tak yer wife tae some ootin or she'll be awa.

But Sandy, na, Sandy, his handicap's doon,
He's awa tae Duff Hoose, he's fair ower the moon.
The professor's kissed Chrissie again and some mair,
While Sandy is winnin the shield at Tarlair.

She's nae on committees, she's nae at the kirk.
She maks vague excuses about ower muckle wirk.
But Sandy, na, Sandy, his handicap's eight,
An faa wid look twice at his green wellied mate?

On the fossils o Moray she's turned aafa keen
An files needs to see them by the licht o the meen.
But Sandy, na, Sandy, wi his handicap seeven,
Is real prood o the puts an the pars he's achievin.

Oh, Sandy, oh Sandy, Chrissie maybe grows weary.
Bide at hame fae the golf an tak time wi your dearie.
But Sandy, na, Sandy, noo his handicap's five,
Says Chris needna think lang, she can read, she can drive.

But Chrissie's beglamoured, awa in a dream
She is min'in on a beard that wis tickly yestreen.
Oh, Sandy, oh Sandy, there still micht be time!
Pit by yer golf trolley an rescue yer quine!

But Sandy's nae noticed. His handicap's fower.
He gies Chrissie accoonts o his drive and his power,
O bunkers and birdies, an eagles an hooks;
An he's never noticed her farawa' looks,

-
As she thinks on the beard, and granite intrusions,
Deep seismic waves and volcanic eruptions,
And continents collidin, and fit dis she care
Aboot Sandy's heroic exploits at Tarlair?

So if golf sets yer hert a'low
And holes in one run in your pow,
Think, bit the price micht mak ye feart
Jist min' on Chrissie and the beard.

© P J Goodall

	THE GOLF WIDDA Chrissie wis a gweed wife, thrifty an skilled, The claes clean 'n hale, the bakin tins filled. She wis on ilka committee faar a gweed wife should be, She wis busy 'n kindly an weel humoured tee. Sandy her man played golf aye at week-ines, An left her at ploys wi Earth Science freens. There wis an expert on ocean floor spreadin, An a bearded professor on cleavage an beddin. They studiet tectonics an basalt an schist, Rock strata an fossils, an aafa lang list Wi magnifyin glasses an acid for testin It's queer fit some bodies will think interestin! But ae day Chris wis kissed ahin a schist stane By the bearded professor, an she liket it fine. Oh, Sandy, oh Sandy, forget that fite baa. Tak yer wife tae some ootin or she'll be awa. But Sandy, na, Sandy, his handicap's doon, He's awa tae Duff Hoose, he's fair ower the moon. The professor's kissed Chrissie again and some mair, While Sandy is winnin the shield at Tarlair. She's nae on committees, she's nae at the kirk. She maks vague excuses about ower muckle wirk. But Sandy, na, Sandy, his handicap's eight, An faa wid look twice at his green wellied mate? On the fossils o Moray she's turned aafa keen An files needs to see them by the licht o the meen. But Sandy, na, Sandy, wi his handicap seeven, Is real prood o the puts an the pars he's achievin. Oh, Sandy, oh Sandy, Chrissie maybe grows weary. Bide at hame fae the golf an tak time wi your dearie. But Sandy, na, Sandy, noo his handicap's five, Says Chris needna think lang, she can read, she can drive. But Chrissie's beglamoured, awa in a dream She is min'in on a beard that wis tickly yestreen. Oh, Sandy, oh Sandy, there still micht be time! Pit by yer golf trolley an rescue yer quine! But Sandy's nae noticed. His handicap's fower. He gies Chrissie accoonts o his drive and his power, O bunkers and birdies, an eagles an hooks; An he's never noticed her farawa' looks, - As she thinks on the beard, and granite intrusions, Deep seismic waves and volcanic eruptions, And continents collidin, and fit dis she care Aboot Sandy's heroic exploits at Tarlair? So if golf sets yer hert a'low And holes in one run in your pow, Think, bit the price micht mak ye feart Jist min' on Chrissie and the beard.
	© P J Goodall