Imph-m

When I was a laddie langsyne at the schule,
The maister aye ca’d me a dunce and a fule;
For somehow his words I could ne’er understan’
Unless when he bawl’d, ‘Jamie, haud oot yer han’!’
Then I gloom’d and said ‘Imph-m’ –
I glaunch’d and said ‘Imph-m’,
I wasna owre proud, but owre dour to say – Aye!

Ae day a queer word, as lang nebbit’s himsel’,
He vow’d he would thrash me if I widna spell.
Quo’ I, ‘Maister Quill,’ wi’ a kin o’ a swither,
‘I’ll spell ye the word if ye’ll spell me anither:
Let’s hear ye spell ‘Imph-m’,
That common word ‘Imph-m’,
That auld Scotch word ‘Imph-m’, ye ken it means – Aye!’

Had ye seen hoo he glower’d, hoo he scratched his big pate,
An’ shouted, ‘Ye villain, get oot o’ my gate!
Get aff to yer seat, ye’re the plague o’ the schule!
The deil o’ me kens if ye’re maist rogue or fule!’
But I only said ‘Imph-m’,
That pawkie word Imph-m,
He couldna spell ‘Imph-m’, that stan’s for an – Aye!

An’ when a brisk wooer, I courted my Jean –
O Avon’s braw lasses the pride an’ the Queen –
When ‘neath my grey plaidie wi’ heart beatin’ fain,
I speired in a whisper if she’d be my ain,
She blushed and said ‘Imph-m’,
That charming word ‘Imph-m’,
A thousan’ times better and sweeter than – Aye!

Jist ae thing I wanted my bliss to complete,
A kiss frae her rosy mou’, couthie an’ sweet;
But a shake o’ the heid was her only reply –
Of course that said no, but I kent she meant Aye,
For her sly een said ‘Imph-m’,
Her red lips said ‘Imph-m’,
Her hale face said ‘Imph-m’, and ‘Imph-m’ means – Aye!

And noo I’m a dad wi’ a hoose o’ my ain –
A dainty bit wifie, an mair than ae wean;
But the warst o’t is this – whan a question I speir,
They put on a look sae auld-farran’ an’ queer,
But only say ‘Imph-m’,
That daft-like word ‘Imph-m’,
That vulgar word ‘Imph-m’ – they winna say – Aye!

Ye’ve heard hoo the deil, as he wauchel’d through Beith,
Wi’ a wife in ilk oxter and ane in his teeth,
When someone cried oot, ‘Will ye tak’ mine the morn?’
He wagged his auld tail while he cockit his horn,
But only said ‘Imph-m’!
That useful word ‘Imph-m’,
Wi’ sic’ a big mouthfu’ he couldna say – Aye!

Sae I’ve gi’en owre the ‘Imph-m’ – it’s no a nice word;
When printed on paper it’s perfect absurd;
Sae if ye’re owre lazy to open yer jaw,
Just haud ye yer tongue, and say naething ava;
But never say ‘Imph-m’,
That daft-like word ‘Imph-m’ –
It’s ten times mair vulgar than even braid – Aye!