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Gjaan for da airrents By Rhoda Bulter

A humorous reflection on shopping 'then and now', by Rhoda Bulter.

I can mind whin juist a peerie ting I’d rin ower tae da shop,
Whaar a body could git onnything fae tar ta bars a sop.
Dey wir sweetie jars wi cinnamon buds, an carvy seeds an clowes,
Sye bleds hingin fae da rüf an hanks a tarry towes.

Kye’s treckle in a barrel, an bowes an bowes a flooer,
Lamp glesses, every shaep an size, at aye seemed tick wi stoor;
Coveralls an cashmere socks, lang draaers an dungaree breeks,
Hinney dukes an German buns, an showgar-aaly steeks.

Dough biscuits laek a peerie plaet, an muckle sheeny whales,
A piece a bain for half-soles, an sprigs an tacks an nails.
Tummlers filt wi lemon curd an coorse saat be da pell;
Sassermaet, juist slightly soor, an bags a India mell.

Sloan’s liniment an syrup-a-figs an peerie jars a Vick,
An ham cut wi a tully, sometimes a half inch tick;
Hudson flecks an Oxydol an packeedges a Blue,
An butter at cam be da tub for dem at hed nae coo.

Whiteneen for da shimley sheeks an Zebo for da stove,
Fairy dye an lucky bags, shock full a traishur trove;
Pirms a treed an jugs a jam, an traps for catchin mice,
An tins a brocken biscuit at wis selt at half da price.

Da man ahint da coonter wür a brat doon ower his knees,
Wi a dirty patch apun his hench whaar he rubbit aff da grease;
For sometimes hit wisna aesy ta keep his haands dat clean,
Whin he hed ta wirk wi loks a things fae loff ta parafeen.

He hed ta wigh up everything we git in bags da day.
We could buy da fleck mell be da ston or juist twa onse a tae.
Steeks a black twist, Walnut Plug, da tree X Bowgie Rowe,
An idder kinds a bacha at da aald men bowt ta showe.

Bit dir nae twa wyes aboot it whin we geng for airrents da day,
We see a lok at’s unken fae whaat we wir wint ta hae.
We waak aboot an help wirsels ta things wir niver waantin;
At niver seems ta setisfee, an laves wis still black fantin.

Noo da biscuit come in packeedges, an saezed wi sicca wup
Da half o dem is led in coom afore dir oppened up.
An wi da ham med up afore-haaand, we very aften fin
At we canna poo it sindry, for da bits ir cut dat tin.

If wir aald fok could see wis, dey wid tink wis faa’n füls,
Buyin soup attae a pocky, an tins a paddock stüls;
Herreen wi tomato saace instead a herreen grease,
An kirn mylk in plastic tubs an labelled ‘Cottage Cheese’.

Dried neeps an poodered tatties, an froags attae a tin,
Dungarees for da weemen, an bottles a scent for men;
Hair dye an gubless shaveen sop med up in fancy jugs,
Peerie tins wi maet for cats an wirsit cots for dugs.

An peerie tubs a druttle mixed up wi bits a fruits,
An corkit jars wi snails an wylks an mussels, yoags an spoots.
An buyin curny puddeen boiled in plastic sheets, becaas
Dir very few at budder noo ta geng an clean da faas.

An wir payin for da packeedge an da fancy tin an treed,
An wir payin for da hygiene at dey tell wis at we need.
Aald wyes wir no sae denty, an nae doot da life wis herder,
Bit I can tell you ee thing, wir pound could geng far farder.

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