A Margaret Rowe poem

“T’ither nicht A wuz in mae bed wunnerin
what A cud write fur the Ullans, an then it
cum tae mae. A cud write aboot mae ma’s
mixin’ spoon. A wuz that axicted it was
fower in the mornin’ afore A went tae sleep
efter thurnin ower in mae heid what A shud
say and the wye A shuid say it.

When A was a waen , sawenty yeir ago , there
were a lot of fowk that trevelled roon the
country goin frae dure tae dure; wans wur
jist beggars, askin fur a slice of breed, or
lake big Mery, for a gopin of oatmale which
she kerried in a poke tied roon hir waist;
ithers ye micht ca pedlars , and yin of these
wuz P.Q.

He cum frae Striban, about five miles awa,
an unner his airm he had a wee wudden box
fu o needles and pins, an spools of threed an
the lake.

wan day Paddy cum jist as mae ma wuz
reddin up efter bakin, an she still had in hir
han the oul spoon that had been used tae mix
the dough fur a lifetime. Seein Paddy eye the
spoon mae ma said:

‘Och Paddy, A wish yea cud get mae a guid
big spoon: this wan’s worn tae a skiver.”

Ok, this is an excerpt until I can type up the rest later on

Margaret Rowe and the Ulster-Scots Society.

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