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THE PAIDLIN' WEAN, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Come in the hoose this moment, paidlin' out there in the rain
Alternate Author Name(s): Surfaceman
Subject(s): Mothers


COME in the hoose this moment, paidlin' oot there in the rain,
An', losh me! but ae buitie on, ye limmer o' a wean;
Come in an' tell me, if ye can, what great delicht ye tak'
In paidlin' in the siver till your face is perfect black?


I canna turn my back, atweel, to airn your faither's sark,
But if the door be left agee, ye slip oot to your wark,
An' stamp in a' the puddles, lauchin' as they jaup an' jow,
While a' the time the careless rain pelts doon upon your pow.


See what an awfu' mess ye've made o' a' your bonnie claes,
The peenie, tae, that I pat on this mornin' when ye raise;
'Twas white then as the new-fa'en sua' , but noo as black's the lum,
An' what wi' treacly pieces, stickin' here an' there like gum.


An' noo ye maun be wash'd, nae doot, but hoo will I begin?
I think I'll get the muckle tub, an' dook ye tae the chin;
Dook ye ow'r the heid, ye rogue, an' skelp your hurdies tae,
An' see if that 'll mak ye ony better for the day.


Noo, dinna shake your curly heid, an' shape your mooth for no,
An' row yoursel' within my goon, an' lisp oot " keeky bo;"
For sic a steerin ' plague ye've turn'd, an' grown sae fierce an' croose,
That I maun try some ither plan to keep ye in the hoose.


But, losh me! even as I speak, my anger's quaten'd doon,
An' so I kiss the rosy mou' that peeps oot frae my goon;
Straik an' clap the curly heid, an' a' to fairly prove
That the anger o' a mither ' s just anither name for love.






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