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A Chuckie in Yer Shoe ©

Bruce Clark Dick
Forfar, Scotland
2008

Theirs nithing mair annoying, a fact, I ken is true,
That when yer in a hurry, ye get a chuckie in yer shoe.
Ye hirple an ye hobble, ye pull an tug yer sock,
It feels bigger than a chuckie, mair like Ayres rock.

Ye cripple tae a bus stop, propped up on it ye lean,
Like thon lad, Long John Silver, fae the silver screen
Ye shak yer shoe empty, like a bairn wie a bankie,
The sweat rins doon yer forehead, ye dab it wie a hankie.

Ye tie yer laces tichtly, an start aff wie a stride,
Ye havnae gone a puckle yards, the chuckies still inside
Twa pensioners on a bench they stare,
An watch ye hirpple o'er
Ye sit doon wie ane awfy thump, the pensioners gie a glower.

In a fit o' anger, the shoe an sock come aff,
Ye inspect, an wiggle yer piggies, so whit if ye look daft
Oot pops the offending chuckie, a wee bit weer than Ayres rock,
Ye pit back on yer fitwear, an again pull up yer sock.

Mae journeys nearly feenished, hame, feet up an watch the telly,
The next time that I go oot, I think I'll wear mae wellies



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