A barefoot boy I went to school
To save a cobbler's fee,
For though the porridge pot was full
A frugal folk were we;
We baked our bannocks, spun our wool,
And counted each bawbee.
We reft our living from the soil,
And I was shieling bred;
My father's hands were warped with toil,
And crooked with grace he said.
My mother made the kettle boil
As spinning wheel she fed.
My granny smoked a pipe of clay,
And yammered of her youth;
The hairs upon her chin were grey,
She had a single tooth;
Her mutch was grimed, I grieve to say,
For I would speak the truth.
You of your ancestry may boast,-
Well, here I brag of mine;
For if there is a heaven host
I hope they'll be in line:
My dad with collie at his heel
In plaid of tartan stripe;
My mammie with her spinning wheel,
My granny with her pipe.
My Ancestors
Robert Service
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Poem topics: father, heaven, hope, mother, school, truth, single, speak, save, youth, I love you, I miss you, wheel, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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