Brunty's Aeroplane. Verse in the Doric.

Brunty’s aeroplane.

Aal Brunty bocht an aeroplane doon at Strichen roup
He thocht it wiz the very thing for roundin up ee nowt,
Noo tae start the bugger ye nott tae swing the prop
Syne he socht the kitchie deemie tae maak the bugger stot
She caad an caad an puffed an blawed an seen began tae tire
Her cryin oot tae pull the choke tae see if it wid fire?

So she caad an caad an mair than caad fin Brunty gid the choke a yark
It wiz then the engine started wi an affa hoorin bark
The kitchie deemie screamit oot an made sic an affa soon
She wiz stuckin tae the prop as it spun roon an roon
Peer Brunty in a panic wi nae a clue fit he maun dee
Fichered wi some hunnles syne the plane began tae flee.

The kitchie she wiz howlin oot as they sped low ower the Haughs
Strichen fowk were teen aback a puckles even laached,
There’s a law they caa inertia, so the physics fowkies say
The peer deemie gid a mighty scream as they came intae play
She skyted fae the propeller at twinty thoosand feet
An landed in the Cyaack among the stinkin peat.

The Cyaacker fowk got weel upset, sayin she wiz a witchie wife,
For fleein throwe the air like that they gye near teen her life,
The peer qiuine got awa fae them her een like hundog’s pyokes
As the Pitsligie loons made tae brunt her wi soggy peats an sproats.

Noo Brunty hid big problems as towards the deck he spun
As Newton’s law o gravity pulled him tae the grun.
He roared oot like a cuddy an yarked up like a horse
Shoutin Woa! Oh God no! He hut the grun wi force
He drove in like a tackit at sic a hoorin speed
The engine up his ersehole the propeller throwe his heed

They nivver nott tae beerie him, the hole he hid wiz deep
So they left him in the aeroplane an haapit him ower wi neeps.
The minister said some word for him, that he wiz an affa lad
Aifter a dram or twa wiz drunk they clappit him doon wi spaads

Aal Brunty passed awa that day as if he’d nivver been
So they biggit him a marker fae oot o orra steens.
An syne ontae a timmer stick carved wi a lamb’s fit k-nife
These immortal words were written aboot his wasted life.

‘Aal Brunty here lies restin his only claim tae fame
Wiz the day that him an the kitchie deemie flew in the aeroplane.
Noo aa ye fairmer cheils, a lesson let this be,
Dinna buy an aeroplane or ye'll end up jist like me-

Beeriet deep at thirty feet;

wi a propeller throwe yer napper

and an engine up yer dock!’

Sanners Gow

 copyright © Patrick Hutchison