Hi, all.
That's a load o' auld hoarsies' dung, if ye ask me!
Castle Rock was chosen centuries ago for a secure hilltop fort. Impregnable to attack and easy to defend with solid foundations. It was a fine and sunny June day. The lads were strolling on Princes Street Gardens with their wives. They had been warned not to give the ladies a showing up and to be on their best behaviour. They had crossed a small bridge and were walking along a pathway below the sheer face of the rock on which the Castle is built;
‘Look at the size o' yon rhubarb, Phemie, ye could make a load o' pies wi' yon,’ said Jessie.
‘A load o' pies, Jessie, a load o' pies, Jessie,’ said Phemie.
‘Loads o' auld hoarsies'’ dung, Jessie,’ said Josie.
‘You button yer lip, Josie,’ said Jessie.
The two happy couples sat down on a bench in the Gardens, people-watching and enjoying the sandwiches that Phemie had prepared, while gazing up at the magnificent Castle;
‘Josie, wis there a dungeon in the Castle, where they kept a' their prisoners?’ asked Francie.
‘Francie, knowing that ye would probably have a wee history question for me today, I have delved into my all-encompassing archives and have come up with the answer. Are you ready for your lesson, Francie?’ asked Josie.
‘Sure, Josie, sure, Josie,’ said Francie.
The Gardens were buzzing with people of all nationalities. Two little boys from one of the adjoining benches had heard Josie say that he was going to tell a story. A small crowd had gathered as Josie began;
‘The Scottish soadjers were haudin' a troop o' English soadjers captive. Employing them tae clean oot the hoarsies’ stables. The manure emanatin' frae yon big Clydesdales wis transported under cover o' darkness, because o' the smell, in a big wheel-barra' an' taken tae the Port o' Leith. It was put oan a boat tae be transported under its ain steam, to Dungkirk in France. The manure wis used tae grow yon enormous French runner-beans an' onions. It wis the joab o' two big burly Scots Guardsmen tae wheel the manure tae the docks at two o’clock every mornin'.
One o' the English soadjers decided tae try tae escape. He reckoned that if he could get tae Dungkirk, then he could easily get a ferry back hame tae Kent. He hid himself underneath the manure in the wheel-barra'. The Guardsmen came oot at two o’clock, they lit up a fag and then yin said tae the ither; 'feel the bliddy weight o' that barra', Jock. I don’t feel like wheelin' that load a' the way tae Leith. Let's dump it o'er the side.'
They baith grabbed a hold o' a shaft, took a runner at the battlements, an' tipped a' the dung o'er the wall.'
‘Is that a fact, Josie, is that a fact, Josie?’ asked Francie.
‘A brilliant idea, Josie, a brilliant idea, Josie,’ said Phemie.
‘That's a load o' auld hoarsies'’ dung, Josie, and you know it,’ said Jessie.
‘Well, if ye wid jist let me finish this history lesson. It's said that if ye come doon here at two o’clock every mornin', ye'll hear the rumblin' o' a wheel-barra' an' the sound o' an English soadjer screaming, … Oh no, shit,’ said Josie.
Catch you later, perhaps.
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