Threats of a Grandfather

Yi brazen wee terror, whit energy yi’v got

Nae ever content tae stay in wan spot

Just gonnae play nice, leave yer pare gran tae rest

Or a’ll go get yer granda, yi adorable wee pest


Dinny yi go thinkin’ he’ll no be irate

Wi aw yer carry oan, yu’ll huv surly seal’t yer fate

Ocht yer a wild wan, an yer fair awfa brave

If yi think that yer here, free tae misbehave


Ma wurd whit a racket, yi aye make quite the noise

Gonnae bewheshed, or yu’ll leave yer granda nae choice

He’ll take in his arms tae the naughty wanes place

When he catches yi screamin’ wi that mischievous wee face


Aye yer aw full, o’ laughter the noo

But yi know fine weel, whit he’s gonnae do

Here he comes tae get yi, wi his cheeky grim

Wi threats tae chuck yi straight, intae the wheelie bin



Cameron D Hamilton 10/03/2017



[The preceding poem was written for my Grandpa who recently passed away.  I wrote this and two others to be recited at his funeral.  This particular piece was read after the funeral when family and friends came to celebrate his life at his favourite place, ‘The Irvine Golf Club, Bogside’.

My grandpa’s favourite threat when us children were getting a little too boisterous, was to put us into the bin at the end of the garden.  He’d go as far to scoop us up into his arms and take us playfully kicking and screaming before letting us go.  It’s a very fond memory and I had the privilege of not only being part of it but seeing him continue it with my younger cousins that came after me.

My grandpa was an admirer of Robert Burns so I felt it only fitting to write this in Scots.

Once again, regardless if you like this, thank you for reading.]


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