The Bogle.

Coorie doon mah bairnies,lie up agin the wa, An' ah'll come in an' tell ye aboot the Bogle that ah saw.
Ah'm no' scairt o' Bogles,they dinnae frichten me, If he comes haundy tae me,ah'll punch him in the ee'.

Aye,ye're a richt wee holy terror,bit ah'm no' as brave as that,
He wis creepin ower the auld stane dyke,as quiet as a cat.
He thocht ah didnae see him for ah wis mair than fu'
bit ah smelled the awfy reek o' him as it trauchled doon his broo.

Ah tried tae turn an' rin awa,bit mah legs were frozen fast,
Mah blood ran cauld,ah couldnae move ,ah thocht ah'd breathed mah last.
His voice rang oot like a strangled dug,An' his airms were closin in,
Ah,ve got ye noo ye drunken loon,he said wi' a ghastly grin.

The past,it flashed afore mah e'en,every pint that passed mah lips,
even a braw wee single malt ah kept for special nips.
Ah'll gie it up ah cried oot lood,nae mair booze for me,
The Bogle said ye've bairnies twa,so ane mair chance ah'll gie ye.

Ah'll be waitin at the pub at nicht tae see if ye are there,
so ye better keep yer word tae me an' no' drink oney mair.
There's plenty ither loons tae grab,the world is fu' o' boozers
Gie up the drink an' then mak sure ye're no' amang the losers.

So aff he went back ower the dyke,laughin tae himsel'
Ah sobered up an' came richt hame mah story for tae tell
The Bogle gied me ane mair chance, fae noo oan ah'll be wary,
For booze an' Bogles dinnae mix,it's faur too bloody scary.

ljc