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Rapunzel WizardPoems |
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Aberdeen's Fine
Rapunzel Wizard
I fear, people are worried about my sanity,
I've been and moved to Aberdeen in January,
it's the time of year to be somewhere south of here,
preferably the southern hemisphere.
Midwinter relocating didn't make sense
and for me not much has since, you see,
Aberdeen's fine, but it confuses me!
But winter in a city as far north
as southern Norway, I fitted in straight away,
like every Aberdonian, young and old,
I had a big coat and a bad cold.
But folk would wheeze up to me, sneeze and say,
Fit like, when clearly they weren't, you see,
Aberdeen's fine, but it confuses me!
Your oaties are made of oats
but butteries are made from lard,
it's hard to know your pastries and loaves.
Are lorne sausages made from lawns?
Are stovies made from stoves?
And your macaroni comes in a pie, but why?
You see, Aberdeen's fine, but it confuses me!
Where a fancy piece ain't a posh mistress,
sometimes I feel a bit out of the loop,
go to the bakers for a sausage softie?
I thought it was the result of brewers droop,
you see, Aberdeen's fine, but it confuses me!
Slowly I'm understanding Doric, "het"
doesn't mean hot, it means the sun's come out,
and fitba means footie, and footie's a place
full of fishermen's houses, you see,
Aberdeen's fine, but it confuses me!
