A Funny Man

by Don Bell
(Peterborough, Canada)

This warm and humorous little kitchen poem is taken from an old newspaper clipping once kept by my Grannie Bell (Annie Stewart Gentles 1881-1955). It was one of her favorite little poems, and perhaps it reminded her of her own grandpa when she was a bonnie wee lassie living in Uphall, West Lothian, Scotland.

A Funny Man

My Gram'pa is a funny man,
He's Scotch as he can be.
I tries to teach him all I can,
But he can't talk like me.
I've told him forty thousand times,
But 'tain't a bit of use;
He always says a man's a "mon,"
And calls a house a "hoose."

He plays with me most ev'ry day
And rides me on his knee.
He took me to a picnic once
And dressed up just like me.
He says I am a "bonny bairn"
And kisses me, and when
I asks him why he can't talk right
He says, "I dinna ken."

But me and him has lots of fun--
He's such a funny man.
I dance for him and brush his hair
And loves him all I can.
I calls him Anjrew -- that's his name--
And he says I can't talk,
And then he puts my plaidie on
And takes me for a walk.
I tells him forty thousand times,
But 'tain't a bit of use;
He always says a man's a "mon,"
And calls a house a "hoose."

Anon.

--Philadelphia North American