trinkie
12-Jun-07, 18:25
Trock
When I was yeoung in days gone by
We hedna much till waste
We saved wur pennies wan by wan
An bocht fit we needed maist.
Few extras we pit in the bag
Wi the tatties, breid and butter
An everything was all used up
Naething ended in the gutter.
Wur bucket wis a modest size
Well filled wi all wur trock
Then roond the corner would appear
The Ash Cairt driven by Jock.
His mate, the buckets wad pick up
An empty one by one
The bairnies running by the side
Enjoying the smellie fun.
But noo-a-days the fun has gone
An all the buckets too,
There's so much rubbish at wur door
Tae be picked up by a few.
Nae bairnies running by ai side
O' a great beeg modern lorry
Nae smiling Jock till greet the wives
Id makes my hert richt sorry.
For we noo gaither so much trock
Wur mithers widna believe it
Hid taks a workforce o' hefty lads
Till come roon an' retrieve it.
Gone are the days when a bucket wad do
For all wur household rubbish
A Wheelie Bin they've given us -
I think we're gettin snobbish !
On Monday it's the general waste
Ye find roon any hoose,
A broken toy fae a little boy
Anything that hes nae use.
BUT no glass or tin or paper or caird.
That's for anither day,
An if by chance ye've sneaked it in -
A charge ye'll hev till pay !
On Tuesday it's the gairden stuff
Soft leaves and stems o' green,
A pile o' grass in a rottin' mass
In a bag that's easily seen.
This bag is white wi an orange stamp
That's biodegradible
In a few week's time it's disappeared -
There's nothing left that's visible.
Wednesday its the Bottle Day
For 'is there's a nice black box
In there ye put your papers too,
Ould shoes and smellie socks.
Empty cans that's been washed and cleaned
Caird, wi no picture on it
Cotton vests that's past their best
An yur grannie's ould black bonnet.
The box hes a lid so yur rubbish is hid
From neighbours wi prying eyes
For they'd look at yur bottles
An papers and cairds,
An spread aboot terrible lies !
'Boot fit ye've been drinking
An fit ye've been thinkin
An the papers that ye've read.
Be sure if they see it, ye must agree it
Roon the neighbours it's spread.
On Thursday yur off doon the road till ai tip,
Wi the bottles ye got yur milk in
For they're plastic ye see
An 'tween ye and me -
The milk in is nae worth the swilkin.
They've changed all wur food
For bad or for good
We'll hev till pit up wi it noo,
But I canna help wonderin
I've been ponderin and ponderin -
Fa's ever heard o' a semi skimmed coo ?
On Friday yur off till Tesco again
Fillin yur trolley wi trock
As yur up and doon aisles
For miles an miles -
Jist spare a thocht for ould Jock !
When I was yeoung in days gone by
We hedna much till waste
We saved wur pennies wan by wan
An bocht fit we needed maist.
Few extras we pit in the bag
Wi the tatties, breid and butter
An everything was all used up
Naething ended in the gutter.
Wur bucket wis a modest size
Well filled wi all wur trock
Then roond the corner would appear
The Ash Cairt driven by Jock.
His mate, the buckets wad pick up
An empty one by one
The bairnies running by the side
Enjoying the smellie fun.
But noo-a-days the fun has gone
An all the buckets too,
There's so much rubbish at wur door
Tae be picked up by a few.
Nae bairnies running by ai side
O' a great beeg modern lorry
Nae smiling Jock till greet the wives
Id makes my hert richt sorry.
For we noo gaither so much trock
Wur mithers widna believe it
Hid taks a workforce o' hefty lads
Till come roon an' retrieve it.
Gone are the days when a bucket wad do
For all wur household rubbish
A Wheelie Bin they've given us -
I think we're gettin snobbish !
On Monday it's the general waste
Ye find roon any hoose,
A broken toy fae a little boy
Anything that hes nae use.
BUT no glass or tin or paper or caird.
That's for anither day,
An if by chance ye've sneaked it in -
A charge ye'll hev till pay !
On Tuesday it's the gairden stuff
Soft leaves and stems o' green,
A pile o' grass in a rottin' mass
In a bag that's easily seen.
This bag is white wi an orange stamp
That's biodegradible
In a few week's time it's disappeared -
There's nothing left that's visible.
Wednesday its the Bottle Day
For 'is there's a nice black box
In there ye put your papers too,
Ould shoes and smellie socks.
Empty cans that's been washed and cleaned
Caird, wi no picture on it
Cotton vests that's past their best
An yur grannie's ould black bonnet.
The box hes a lid so yur rubbish is hid
From neighbours wi prying eyes
For they'd look at yur bottles
An papers and cairds,
An spread aboot terrible lies !
'Boot fit ye've been drinking
An fit ye've been thinkin
An the papers that ye've read.
Be sure if they see it, ye must agree it
Roon the neighbours it's spread.
On Thursday yur off doon the road till ai tip,
Wi the bottles ye got yur milk in
For they're plastic ye see
An 'tween ye and me -
The milk in is nae worth the swilkin.
They've changed all wur food
For bad or for good
We'll hev till pit up wi it noo,
But I canna help wonderin
I've been ponderin and ponderin -
Fa's ever heard o' a semi skimmed coo ?
On Friday yur off till Tesco again
Fillin yur trolley wi trock
As yur up and doon aisles
For miles an miles -
Jist spare a thocht for ould Jock !