RT Burns Club

*Federation No. 2085*


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Forum Home > What makes a Burns Supper > A wee poem that could be used in a reply to the toast to the lassies,

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A Wumman's A Wumman.. A cleaner, cook, a mither, wife,

A job as weel, for a' that,

A skivvie a' her wedded life

Who else wid e'er dae a' that?

Far a' that, an' a' That,

She loves him still for a' that,

She surely must be off her heid

For puttin' up wi' a' that.

Noo drivin' trains an' flyin' planes,

E'en Prime Minister an' a' that,

An still wi' time to mind the weans,

A wumman's a wumman for a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

Her varicose veins an' a' that,

No man could surely stand the pace

O' being a wumman an' a' that.

For men are sure a helpless band-

They're just big bairns, for a' that,

without a wumman to haud their hand

They'd soon fair starve, an' a' that.

For a' that an' a' that,

She suffers the gawk for a' that,

Wha else could put up wi' a man.

His gallus ways an' a' that.

Hoosework's meant for two tae share,

The washin' up an' a' that,

But the eejit just gets in her hair

An' roond her feet an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that

She's nae time tee spare for a' that,

So he goes boozin'' wi' his pals

While she gets oan wi a' that.

But when he rolls in fae the pub

Muckle fu' an' a' that,

An' then demands a plate o' grub,

She'll clip his ear for a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

He'll sleep wi' the dug for a' that,

The wumman micht weel be a saint,

But she'll no put up wi' a' that.

So suffer a' her finger wags,

Her sharpened tongue an' a' that.

An' jist ignore the way she nags-

God knows that she's worth a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

Her screechin' nark an' a' that.

A wumman fair o' face an' heart

Should treasured be for a' that.



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January 24, 2010 at 10:28 AM Flag Quote & Reply

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