A Highland Filly at 40
Dearest Lynne, you’ve now turned 40,
We’ve been friends since we were four,
You’re witty and caring and a little bit naughty,
As a bestie, I couldn’t ask for more,
You’re like a pure bred Highland mare,
A beautiful specimen with impressive hindquarters,
A native Scot with a tendency to swear,
The perfect Godmother to my two daughters!
Well turned out you always are.
It’s as if you have a personal groom,
None of us are in with a shout,
Once you walk in the room,
Lots of horsey adventures we have sampled,
Together we’ll go off for a while,
And even when we ended up being trampled,
We still both managed a smile,
We were each other’s bridesmaids when we became wives,
Oh what times together we’ve had,
We’ve laughed our way throughout our lives,
In situations good and bad,
As a wife and as a mother,
You’re the very best your boys could have had,
For George, I know there could not have been another….
Well…….perhaps a lady that was tractor mad!
You and I are not related by birth,
But I’d hate us to ever be apart,
And, for what it is worth,
You’ll always be my sister in my heart.,
So crack open the fizz, you gorgeous filly,
Let’s gallop together towards middle age,
Today is for getting boozy and silly,
And the race is just at the first stage…….
Ode to Laura on her 18th birthday
18 years old! You’ve come so very far,
From being conceived in Paris after a bit of ‘Ooh La La’,
A better daughter we could not have had,
Loving and caring and music mad,
Unless it’s first thing in the morning,
When you’re just out of bed and still busy yawning,
We don’t bother asking if you’re feeling well,
Because you’re likely to be grumpy as Hell!
Still craving shut eye, some extra kip,
In your bedroom – also known as ‘the tip’,
Even on a fabulous trip to New York,
The time difference made you omit to talk,
The Statue of Liberty failed to make you smile,
As you wanted your bed all of the while!
But, lovely Laura, you really come alive,
When you’re listening to your favourite band, The 1975,
At a Festival or concert you’ll stay up all night,
And still be smiling in the morning light,
Unless it’s Kasabian – when you won’t last long,
Passing out before the very last song!
Attempting to indulge your musical passion,
You learned to play the violin…of a fashion,
Across the strings you pulled that bow,
Your Mum and I would think ‘Oh, God no!.
As ‘Twinkle Twinkle’ from your fiddle trilled,
It sounded more like a cat had been killed!
Putting to the side that dreadful sound,
It’s happy memories that do abound,
Days spent in Majorca, Menorca, Turkey, Kos,
Always make me laugh because…
Any holiday story would be incomplete,
If I failed to mentioned that time in Crete,
When, with your parents to protect you from harm,
You fell into a cactus and scarred your arm,
You were only a baby so we felt quite sick,
The cactus wasn’t the only prick!
But you got your turn to gloat,
When in Turkey, I fell out of a speeding boat!
You need to avoid the water with me,
As together we both fell off a jet ski,
We were in the water for so long,
As we simply couldn’t get back on!,
Nursing my wounded pride,
I thought we might be safer on a camel ride,
After our exploits, it was somewhat staid,
But that doesn’t matter because I never paid!
They earn Turkish Lira for every bump,
I bet the owner still has the hump!
As parents we like to embarrass you,
With the things that we say or do,
A caravan holiday maybe wasn’t the most glamorous,
But it didn’t stop your Mum and I from feeling amorous,
Love in a wagon can be quite risky,
But what are you to do when you’re feeling frisky?
There we were – clothes off and all,
When we hear a banging on the wall,
Our passion sort of died away,
When you cried; “You’re ruining my holiday!”
Although it might be difficult to be believed,
It was in a tent that your sister was conceived,
You slept quite soundly with a little snore,
Even thought you were in the room next door!
You’re a dog loving girl who likes a crafty smoke,
I’m just a Dad who likes a little joke,
Like the first time I dropped you at a friend’s place,
You should have seen your little face,
When instead of your mate answering the door,
It was a little old man of 94!
You’d been well and truly had,
By none other than your good old Dad!
Dear Laura, our teenager wild,
You were such a doting child,
“10 Green Bottles” was your choice of song,
How you liked to sing along!
Though you never quite mastered the words,
And ’10 Green Grandma’s” could be heard!
We were there when you born, we have watched you grow.
Our love for you, you’ll never know.
You’ve seen us happy, we’ve shed some tears
We’ve never forgot these 18 years.
With you now a grown up and so mature,
We’re so proud of you and our love will always endure.
Mum and Dad x
Ode to Jules on her 21st birthday
Dearest family and friends, It’s the birthday of yours Truly,
A glorious 21 years of our gorgeous Julie,
We’ve gathered today to celebrate in style,
And talk a little about Jules – so it might take a while!
But first, it would be remiss if we were not to say,
A huge welcome to all who are here today,
May we ask that you wave your napkin in the air,
When you’re introduced – to show that you’re there!
Amazing godparents, Dave and Kim – Great to see you,
Lorna, Christie, Meghan– welcome too,
You’ll know immediately Jules’ Glasgow crowd,
Melanie, Vogue and Sandra– the ‘girls are loud’,
Jan and Laura are studying hard– heads down low,
For their Finals so they are in the final throes,
The Elstree girls can’t be at this event,
But from them, and Mike too?, plenty of love is sent,
Thanks go to Richard and Matt – for what would we do,
Without enlisting the help of the boyfriend crew?
Thanks to Chloe lastly but definitely not least,
For providing us all with such a magnificent feast,
Now, on to Jules, a cherished daughter, sister and friend,
A Griffin High School girl whose talents have no end,
She’s achieved so very much for her tender age,
Dancer, singer, flautist and star of West End stage,
She played a workhouse boy in ‘Oliver’ always begging for more,
That was before her chest size swelled to almost 34!
Beautiful, clever, kind and an awful lot of fun,
She’s hilarious, Fleabag funny and good at getting things done,
Always the baby sister even when she’d grown a bit,
We can’t believe you’re at Uni now and studying English Lit,
We now ask you for YOUR view, you’re the girl in the know,
Living the Scottish high life with just one more year to go,
A glamour girl who’s enthusiastic for all the things she likes,
(let’s not mention Himalayan trekking or the subject of bikes),
An adventurer up for almost anything if it involves cookies and cake,
You’ve explored Kenya, Morocco, NYC but you’ve plenty more journeys to make,
You’re happy on a pair of skis, you’re happy on a beach,
You’re happy driving your Mini to places within reach,
A cool girl in a red car playing beats to uplift,
You think you’re really out there but you listen to Taylor Swift!
It seems like yesterday you were born but now you’re fully grown,
Frequenting coffee shops and making life your own,
Now we’ve spoken for long enough, you must all have a thirst,
It’s almost time to raise a glass and toast Jules’ 21st,
But first I wanted you to know how proud your Dad would be today,
That dimple in your left cheek means he’s never far away,
If he was here with a glass of red, it’d make our day complete,
Although we all know if he were around, he’d be searching for some meat!
So here’s to our marvelous Julie Johanna, now we can raise a glass,
We all love you so very much – a young woman who is truly first class.
Ode to Donna at 50
Dear sister, it’s hard to believe,
You’ve reached the grand age of fifty,
Your youthfulness really does deceive,
Still oh so fit and rather nifty,
With kids and dogs and hitting the town,
You live life in a rush,
But now you’ll have to slow it down
For the occasional hot flush!
You were fabulous at forty,
the Belle of your charity ball,
Raising money through all things sporty,
You never, ever do things small!
You’ve abseiled, you’ve sashayed down the catwalk,
Persuaded men to have a wax,
It’s time for the bubbly to uncork
And time for you to relax,
Around the globe you and Gav have been trotting,
Celebrating your birthday in style,
No doubt some celebrity spotting,
It’s good to have you home for a while,
Cos while Spain, Italy and NYC
Were no doubt affa fine,
You canna beat time with family,
A Scottish Barbie and plenty of wine!
So let’s raise a glass to delightful Donna,
We wish you happiness in all you do,
You’ve never grown old and good on ya!
Because we really don’t want you to!
Ode to Mum on her 80thBirthday
Mum, we are so delighted to all be here today.
To celebrate your 80thbirthday in such a special way,
So everyone, pray silence, open up your ears
Let me talk about the lady who’s been our rock throughout the years,
A wonderful and special Mother to the Meldrum three,
Brother Neil, sister Rona and not forgetting me!
You moved to the Granite City when I was only one,
When your love affair with Cults had only just begun,
Abbotshall Crescent was such a happy place,
A family hub where you would always find a sunny, smiling face,
It became the Meldrum home for over forty years,
It saw our baby steps, it saw our teenage tears,
But far too big for one once we all flew the nest,
You’ve settled in Denhead and consider it quite the best,
The perfect spot for sitting and watching the world go by,
Knitting fisherman’s hats, and having a Gin and Tonic on the sly,
But you never stay still for long, Mum, being the active sort,
Whether you’re swinging your golf club or playing on a tennis court,
Or you might be at church or out playing cards,
life at nearly 80 doesn’t sound so very hard!
A Ladies Circle meeting, a jigsaw to complete,
You’re one lady of a certain age that is rushed right off of her feet!
And though you would admit that you prefer to keep those feet on the ground,
Thanks to lovely Rona – you’ve certainly been around!
You’re a well travelled woman courtesy of BA,
New York, South Africa, Hong Kong and first class all the way!
You said you were a nervous passenger which would have explained,
Why those glasses of whisky and brandy were so very quickly drained!
Having a daughter in an airline certainly had the glamour factor,
Sadly all she can offer now is a lift on Peter’s tractor!
And although not quite so prestigious, you come to Darlington by train,
Are you perhaps suffering from nervous passenger syndrome again?
Because even though the train stays grounded on the track,
Gin and Tonic in a water bottle seems to be your favourite snack!
You’d think that over five hours, you’d need the loo to use,
But piddle on public transport? You steadfastly refuse!
But Mum, you deserve to travel anywhere in style,
I remember a certain holiday, even though it’s been a while,
When on your own with your children, you couldn’t face a train or taxi
So cases, kids and camping gear were bundled in our old blue Maxi,
And off you drove to France you did, and there we all went camping,
Don’t know how on earth you coped as it certainly wasn;t Glamping!
But cope you did and we had such fun even though it was quite an endeavour,
It remains fondly in our memories as probably the best holiday ever,
You are an amazing Mum and Gran – not Granny, Nan or Nana,
To Kya, Misha, Amber, Tegan, Rachel, Rory and Anna,
Seven gorgeous grandkids but only ever one wedding,
I’m afraid a fancy hat shop is not where you should be heading!
Don’t wait for a daughter to wed – it just might just take a while,
I expect that one of your grandchildren will beat us up the aisle!
But, at least you donned your chapeau once for the marriage of Alison and Neil,
Let’s hope when you dust it off again, it’ll be in fashion still!
So happy birthday from us all, and also from sister Jill,
And though you might be 80, you are far from over the hill,
In fact might I suggest, if I may be so bold
That if you look at the tins in your cupboard, you’ll find things that are just as old!,
So Mum we all sincerely hope you have a wonderful birthday weekend,
Our love, kisses and hugs – to you, we all send,
However, there was one gift for you that I dearly wanted to wrap,
And present to you today – to sit upon your lap,
Alas, it proved impossible but let me give you a clue,
It’s Yorkshire’s finest product – something you’re quite partial to…
It’s something you’d unwrap slowly, because you’d like to linger,
You’d begin to feel the ‘Groundforce’ and maybe spot a green finger…..
But oh, although I tried – Alan Titchmarsh is tied up
By his wife who steadfastly refused to let him travel up!
We’d hoped that you two could take the floor for a Strictly sexy Rhumba,
Cos just like Colin’s Porsche, you’re a sporty little number!
So here’s to the star of our show, let’s raise every glass in this room,
Happy Birthday to Anne Meldrum – a truly magnificent bloom!
Ode to KCK
She’s a gun toting mama,
She’s a trigger happy baby.
Ask her if she wants to shoot,
she’s never gonna say ‘maybe’.
Cos this gal wan’t happy
till she found herself a gun,
a partnership made in paradise,
her 12 bore is ‘the one’.
Cheek against the barrel,
one shot always slays.
Pheasant, partridge, geese and teal
or minuscule orange clays.
You’ll find her early morning
in a cold and frosty hide
but this girl isn’t yawning
with a shotgun by her side.
She’s everyone’s favourite lady.
At Kinker, she gets lots of loving
(Tho she hasn’t quite worked out
that they want to know what’s in her oven!)
Because Ms Bowie isn’t only
a pretty damn good shot
She’s Kemnay’s super baker
with goodies piping hot.
So to my best shooting buddy
I’d really like to say
you’re a truly lovely lady
who deserves a special day.
Looking forward to an excursion
to Seals’ Cove by the sea
And for your birthday present
lunch will be on me!
Our Baby Girl, Florence, Florrie, Flo
It was the 21stApril 2016,
A special day for us and the birthday of the Queen.
We never expected to have a little princess of our own,
Six months on and My, how you have grown.
For nine whole months, I carried you warm and safe,
21 hours to arrive – didn’t want to leave that cosy place!
Finally you appeared, your little pink face a scrunch,
I got my beautiful baby!…And Daddy got a punch!
We love our baby hippo from the bottom of our heart,
You were cute and oh so lovable right from the very start,
You smelled of heat and newborn but how could something so very dear
be snuggled in my arms with poop inside each ear?!
Away you were whisked to the sanctity of ICU,
It’s tough being a baby with an earful of poo!
We worried about you so, although there was no need,
One look at a boobie and you knew just how to feed!
So now you’re growing up, no more milkspots on your nose,
A little Welsh leek that was born an English rose.
But when you’re a teenager with your own hopes and fears,
Will you listen to us or claim still to have poop in both ears?
You’re always be our little one with hiccups and dribbles,
We’ll treasure your laughter when you get tummy nibbles,
You’ll be the centre of our world however old you grow,
Our Florence, our Florrie, our precious baby Flo.
Ode to the Finzean Diva
She’s the Deeside Diva
who gets Finzean in a fever
when she shakes her thang on stage.
Sexier than Shakira,
Beyonce doesn’t get near her
and now she’s reached a certain age.
It was 1976;
flares and paisley wearing chicks.
The world was on the up.
Little Miss Totten was born
and, despite England’s scorn
Scotland beat them for the Calcutta cup!
Miss T blossomed at twenty,
admirers she had plenty.
At thirty, she was flirty and fun.
But now the quine is forty,
still flamboyant and rather naughty…
(She’s had a birthday, not turned into a nun!)
Though born in Glasgow City,
she soon moved to somewhere pretty
and life would never be the same.
From one woman and a cat
to marriage, kids and all that.
She met Kev and took the Christie name.
Now Dad was quite delighted
and got overly excited
at having ‘Julie Christie’ in the fold.
But Dr Zhivago is a step too far,
our JC is more ‘Oom Pah Pah’
and, like Nancy, has a heart of gold.
Before the wedding day,
Julie Totten went out to play,
a rip roaring hennie was all planned.
But declining any booze
due to ‘expectant’ news
meant that rumours were bound to be fanned….
Now she’s a red hot mama
who loves a bit of drama,
but gentlemen, you’d better be warned –
Don’t ever have the nerve
to cast your eye over her curves
because your advances will be absolutely scorned.
Though her Kev is often away
and this ‘mouse’ loves to play,
she has friends and family a plenty.
A girls nights in
with a bottle or wine or gin,
and her nights will not be empty……..(neither will her glass!)
So Happy Birthday, it’s your 40th year.
Revel in the love of those you hold dear
Keep that joyfulness forever in your heart.
You’re the sweetest siren in heels so high,
feet on the ground but head in the sky.
Life begins, so let life’s party start!
An 80th Birthday Ode – to our Mum, Gran and Sister
What a very special day,
Nan is 80 today!
and we’ve gathered to celebrate in style.
You’re looking in the pink
so have yourself a drink,
You can even stop ironing for a while!
It was back in 1936,
Oh, how the hand of time ticks,
You were born – the very first baby Black.
Then they added ten more
(after that, they couldn’t keep score!).
They had no need of an aprodisiac!
But you were a fast learner,
who then became a Turner,
Very soon, three little ones came along.
They are now all fully grown
and children – they have their own.
To all seven, you’re a gran that is hands on.
You’re SuperNan, that’s what you are,
Still toodling around in your wee car,
running errands, cutting grass and weeding borders.
You’re the salt of the earth,
more than your weight in gold you’re worth,
But tonight, just relax, and that’s an order!
Mary Berry has nothing on you,
when it comes to cakes, you’re a baking guru.
As for knitting, you’re really quite a Wow.
How Carole loved her outfit red and cream,
To be a Butlins redcoat was her dream,
Could you make another that would fit her now?
But even you, Nan, can make a mistake.
Remember when you left a ‘lake’
in the toilet – the one that did not flush!
Next time before you begin,
Make sure the lavvy is plumbed in!
Yes, we knew that verse would make you blush!
Now, we know that come sunshine or rain,
you and your sisters will be on the Airdrie train,
Not really caring to which destination it goes.
Edinburgh? Helensburgh? Who gives a stuff?
Newsing with your siblings is pleasure enough
and you’ll end up wherever the wind blows.
For kids and grandkids, you’re always there.
We know you love us. We know you care.
And we know you would do anything for us.
But tonight, just stand at ease,
Nothing to organise, no-one to please.
For once, over you, we want to fuss.
One fat lady and a great big zero,
You’re a Bingo-tastic 80 and still our hero,
You deserve to be spoiled with chocolates and flowers.
But on this, your special birthday,
To you we’d really like to say,
We’ve got the ‘winning Full House’- because you are ours.
Ode to my wife, Louise, on her 40thBirthday
My ‘Pretty Woman’ with red hair, my Belfast beauty Louise,
A lady who loves her shoes – every pair! And enjoys her G and Ts,
As your birthday celebrations start, I just wanted to say,
That I love you with all of my heart, a little more every day,
Our time together I treasure, I love the moments that we share,
Eating out ‘a deux’ is a pleasure, I’d be happy with you anywhere,
But when we next go on holiday, I do have a small request,
(I hope you don’t mind that I say, as I think it’s for the best),
Perhaps you could limit your shoes to just a couple of pairs,
There’s packing space we lose due to your penchant for footwear!
Heels low and flat, tall and thin – fancy enough to wear on a stage,
Or even on a pub table to sing as you did at a tender age,
You’re a first class Executive Assistant – you know how to organise,
To those that have seen the tins in our kitchen, that won’t come as a huge surprise,
The kids wouldn’t dare to cause you pain by leaving the labels facing in and not out,
‘See if you do that again!’ are the words you’d be prone to shout,
But you’re a loving and caring Mother to Austin and Isobel,
Adored by your sisters and brother and your Mum and I as well,
Your beloved Uncle Paddy truly loved you too,
Though no longer with us sadly, he would be so proud of you,
‘Never Forget’ our Winnie dog, she’s always on the prowl,
The limelight she like to hog with a ‘Happy Birthday” howl,
So many happy returns Louise, I have so much to thank you for,
Always ‘Stand by Me’ even when we’re 90 or more,
And although Robbie and ‘Take That” Take may be the men of your dreams,
You wouldn’t get my chat nor my ‘Love Supreme’,
They say ‘Life begins at 40’ you know but I think we’ve had a head start,
Because life began 16 years ago – the day you stole my heart.
Ode to Yvonne at 60
‘General with the long hair’
aka my darling wife,
You are one of a kind, a breed that is rare,
And you totally light up my life,
Looking so, so good at sixty,
Vintage rather than antique,
Your bodywork is still rather nifty,
Like a top of the range 4×4 Jeep,
Happiest in the garden or maybe
going for a walk,
My blonde Barbie baby,
Who trained a Cockatiel to talk!
A dedicated Sunday school scholar,
Your religious apprenticeship,
Not bothered about the man in the ‘dog collar’,
But you and Shona enjoyed the trips!
Your career has been diverse along the way,
Owned your own fish shop no less,
Worked in Frasers and a sports café,
And now a Manager in the good old NHS,
Maybe soon you’ll come up with a cure,
For an affliction from which you suffer….
Releasing ‘air’ that’s not so pure,
Then blaming hubby as the public ‘fluffer’!
You’re super intelligent, I couldn’t ask for more,
But common sense you definitely lack,
You still send all deliveries to the house next door,
Before we get them back!
But you’re our Maspolomas sun in a Glasgow sky,
And this ditty is just to say,
Megan, Sophie, Jonny and I,
Wish you the most wonderful day!
Ode to Alistair’s 21st
So here we are, living it up, at this amazing lunch,
Family members, our great friends –all together an awesome bunch,
My heightened sense of elation is not just from too much wine,
For this is a momentous celebration, a truly special time,
Not only are we marking Sharon’s 60thyear,
But this lady is positively sparkling as her much loved son is here,
We all cannot quite believe that our Al has turned 21,
So grateful that the Navy granted leave, to my favourite and only) God son,
The baby of a WREN, christened on HMS Ocean,
I guess we knew right then of your seagoing devotion,
But I remember a little boy of no more than two years old,
Dressed as a Prince for a birthday party and sporting a crown of gold,
From that tiny lad, a Naval Officer sprang,
Resplendent at the wheel of your beloved Ford Mustang,
You’re now an all Australian man and is it any wonder?
Sunshine, beaches, golden sand – a lovely life down under,
You love to sail, you love to dive and to play your beloved guitar,
Your talents are really off the scale and we knew that you’d go far,
Now a Sub-lieutenant in the RAN – ready for your first full posting,
From the South Pacific to Japan – who knows where you will be coasting?
You’ll be happy wherever you roam, talking world affairs on the Bridge,
Dreaming of your special girl back home and a few beers in the fridge,
Like the finest Scottish single malt, may your days be full of flavour,
May every adventure be like a wee dram that you’ll always want to savour,
And now, folks, it’s time to raise your glass – (you’ll all have a raging thirst),
To a young man who really is first class – to Alistair on his 21st.
Ode to Charlie
Oh Charlie, you’re my darling,
I think it’s fair to say,
I know I’ve found my soulmate,
in every single way,
You light up my life,
I know I illuminate yours,
as you’re always switching the lights off,
every time that we’re indoors,
You think I’m sweet enough,
Without extra sugar in my tea,
Though while watching telly, you’re gruff,
You’re still the man for me,
You only leave me a sliver of the bed,
You’re a big time duvet hogger,
But you’re always forgiven,
Cos you’re my favourite bedtime snogger,
So Happy Birthday Charlie!
I wouldn’t change a thing,
We may not be Meghan and Harry,
But you certainly are my king!
This is a special pressie
For Christmas and your birthday combined,
A Harris tweed jacket of your choosing
Fully tailored and fully lined.
All you need to is choose your pattern,
Any one that you desire,
Go get measured up,
And a unique jacket you will acquire.
And if you’re unsure about design.
You need only consult your sister,
She’ll have you looking good
Cos she’s a Fashionista!
Happy Christmas & Birthday Ruaridh!
Dad & Liz xx
ODE TO WILLIE
So here we are at Gleneagles;
For an event bigger than the Ryder Cup.
The night is young (though Willie’s not) but things are looking up.
For ‘oor Wullie’ is 50! It can hardly be true!
Let proceedings commence, without further ado.
Now we’ve friends here from childhood, we’ve colleagues and neighbours,
to help our Willie enjoy the fruits of his labours,
But before we get merry, with speech slurred and slow,
Let’s learn a little more about the man we THINK we know;
Born in Turriff, the son of a grocer,
Where he quickly learned how to say ‘Yes Sir’ and ‘No Sir’,
The spirit of entrepreneurship was quick to instill,
Even when perched on a crate at the till,
From Rennies of Foggie to the main man of ICR,
Young Willie Rennie has certainly come far!
For he was never destined to be a dud,
A strong work ethic was in his blood.
According to Mama Rennie, Willie was never ‘bad’;
He was just what she referred to as ‘a passionate lad’,
That passion for trying out things that were new
Could sometimes land Willie in a bit of a stew…
As Willie, being a helpful little chap,
Filled the car’s petrol tank with sugar – and screwed on the cap,
So that his Mother and Father could drive in style
to Turriff – powered by Tate and Lyle,
And although with good intent this gesture was loaded,
They weren’t so impressed when their engine exploded,
Still the car was very soon back in action
(though Mum was in shock and Dad was in traction),
and young Willie, keen to make amends,
and with his parents be best of friends,
clambered proudly into the driver’s seat,
hands on the wheel and dangling feet,
Found himself the handbrake too,
Thinks to himself “What does this do?’
Any previous warnings he did not heed
As he headed backwards down the hill at speed,
He certainly found his va va vooom
When he ended up in someone else’s front room!
Enough of childish, silly mistakes,
The sort that any of us could make,
While, as a lad he was rather frantic,
He matured into a teenager and a New Romantic,
Frilly shirt, white jeans, mascara?…a smattering..
Went out in Banff and got a battering!
But lets recount a happier time in Willie’s life,
Went to RGIT to study..and met his future wife,
The lovely Yvonne was to become Willie’s passion,
Along with golf, gadgets, ski-ing and New Romantic fashion,
But if he thought this ‘birdie’ would be a hole in one,
His intentions were about to be well and truly undone,
Because Willie, oh Willie, What on earth were you thinking?
You canna woo a lady when you have been drinking!
You asked her to a disco, you had your chance,
When you were to walk her home from that very same dance,
But it’s hard to feel romantic, to walk hand in hand,
With a would-be suitor when he can hardly stand,
In the end, she propped you against a wall,
And a taxi had to call,
What makes this story even worse
(and this is no exaggeration for the purposes of verse!)
is that when you saw this lovely lady the very next day,
and ‘sorry’ you had the chance to say,
You walked right by her without a care,
Poor girl could only stop and stare,
You remembered nothing of the night before,
Yvonne thought “OK, So we are at war”
And just to make that perfectly clear,
She studiously ignore you for the rest of the year.
Willie partied on with the friends that he had,
Like Susan and Mo and other influences bad,
By now, Gav too was in the mix
Being envious of Willie with all his ‘hot chicks’,
But our Willie, he has got style
And was soon taking Yvonne right up the aisle,
After they bumped into each other at a supermarket store,
She wanted eggs and milk, he wanted much more…
Even ice maiden, Yvonne, had to admit
That his in smart work suit, Willie looked rather fit,
Cos there’s one thing about Willie that you will all have seen,
He always looks smart and uber pristine,
And we ladies can forgive almost any vice
For a man who dresses well and smells rather nice,
We don’t want to sound pedantic or too overkeen,
But its all because the lady loves…a Willie that is clean!
So that’s the story of Mr and Mrs Rennie, it was job done,
Got together in ’86 and engaged by ’91,
Being married to Willie was never to be a bore,
She just wishes someone had warned her by sometimes yelling’ Fore’!
To prepare her for episodes that would occur in married life,
That would test her to the limits of being a good wife,
Like the time they independently hit ‘the Deen’,
On works nights out, you can picture the scene,
When Yvonne realises that she has no keys,
So the opportunity she did seize
To head on home with Gavin and Susan
(cos to be locked out would not be amusing!)
So from there, she gives her husband a phone,
Only to be met with a dull, faint groan,
Her mind goes into overdrive,
“Oh no, my poor Willie is barely alive!”
And so a plan is quickly hatched
To get a Police unit despatched
To save Willie from that which had befallen,
“Willie, Oh Willie” Yvonne was calling.
Up the stairs the Police did go,
Instructing Yvonne to ‘Stay below’,
(This, of course, was not before
they had broken in through the front door),
From a vision terrible they had to protect
Poor Yvonne – with immediate effect,
When they burst in the bedroom, the scene that they saw
Nearly knocked those boys in blue right to the floor
For here was Willie lying proudly
In shirt, tie and boxers..and snoring loudly..
No need to call in the Forensic Lab,
There were only the remains…of a Shish kebab!
Now Willie is a helpful man,
Always wanting to do things when he can,
Making plans so tactical,
But not so good at anything practical,
Which is a point that’s rather sore
When you have a builder for a Father in Law,
So one day, prowess keen to show
He offers his help laying a patio,
(Willie is in Oil you see
an industry where safety is key)
One should always know where one’s safety boots are,
Although they are better on your feet than in the car..
So when the slabs a- tumbling did go,
There was no protection for Willie’s big toe
Which is why, it has to be said,
He found himself lying in a hospital bed,
But while between the sheets at The Albyn,
He decided that life was ‘affa fine’;
The Dunhill Cup was on TV,
And an A la Carte menu had choices for tea,
So despite his throbbing, bloodied toe
It wasn’t so bad as things would go,
He prepared himself for his little op,
His contacts lenses out, he did pop,
And although all around was a blur
He knew he had no need to stir,
Just as he laid his sleepy head down,
There came a nurse with pants and gown,
“Now Mr Rennie, put these on
and we’ll be in theatre before too long”
So Willie prepares himself for pre=med
With paper pants perched on his head,
Cos when your optical prescription is minus six
It’s hard to tell your hat from your knicks!
Willie…I think I’ve said enough
(You can blame your wife for all this stuff!)
But the truth is that your really are
A greay guy, who is never below par,
You love to party, you love to sing,
You’ve got style and you’ve got swing,
You could give those younger many tips,
May you never get the putting yips,
And today, you have reached the age of 50,
Still looking good and rather nifty,
Tonight you can go on a bender
Before you embark on life’s next agenda
For you’ve proved that as a business man, you’re astute,
A good family man as well to boot,
And what a first class family you’ve got:
In Yvonne and your offspring, Phoebe and Scott.
Have you anything left to still achieve?
Or will you quietly retire and take your leave?
Will we find you in the Alps on skis?
Or on a golf course, as you please?
But we hear there is a vacant post
One that would truly suit you most,
One where you can use your life skills,
One that will give you licence for thrills,
Yes, Yes, Yes I hear you say!
Let me call the P and J!
It’s a recipe that was made in Heaven,
The boy from Foggie – the next 007.
Ode to Meg at 60
What is bubbly, sparkly, loved by all
And always all the rage?
A lovely lady who is Belle of the Ball,
Like fine wine, she gets better with age.
Yes, Meg has turned Six Zero,
She’s Vintage! A collectable!
She’ll always be our hero,
Thoughtful, fun and quite delectable.
Now as the saying goes,
You’re as young as the man you feel….
And Meg is one who shows
That she’s definitely not over the hill,
This lady likes the thrill
Of a sporty, younger man,
One with a certain ball skill,
And a sexy Portuguese tan,
But a gorgeous cardboard cut-out,
just cannot compete,
With a real-life, handsome husband,
To make her life complete.
Yes, Davie is just smashing,
When she’s with him, she is in heaven,
Tall and rather dashing,
And maybe the next 007?
Together they love to globe trot,
They’re a partnership for keeps,
Like dash goes with dot,
Like haggis goes with neeps.
They love exotic places,
Discovering far off lands,
Socialising with familiar faces,
With new people, shaking hands.
They’ve two sons who are fortunate,
To each be a fine and bonny lad,
Would they be anything but,
With Meg and Davie for Mum and Dad?
You’re a super wife and Mum,
And we’re really rather proud,
To have you as a chum,
And be part of the ‘holiday’ crowd,
So Happy Birthday to dear Meg,
And sorry this ditty is late,
But just you keep on celebrating,
Till you’re at least one hundred and eight!
A 21st Birthday Ode to our boy, Brandon Boyle
On this special celebration,
it is with so much elation
that we send you a hug and a kiss.
Your big moment is now
so we hope you’ll allow
the ‘rents’ a chance to reminisce.
Brandon, you’re 21,
A wonderful son.
You’re still our handsome prince.
Born in Aberdeen’s Matty,
you were wee and rather natty,
no more than a ‘tuppence o’ mince’!
First born before two daughters,
weighing 6lb, 14 and three quarters,
a beautiful blue eyed boy.
Colicky baby up all night,
followed by scrapes that gave us a fright,
but didn’t stop bringing us joy.
You were charming as soon as you could talk,
‘Posing’ as soon as you could walk,
usually in only your wee pants!
No wonder you’re a ‘model’ son
loved by just about everyone,
especially in your Spiderman stance!
Today wouldn’t be complete
without telling all about our boy so sweet
with stories that will make him blush!
Thomas the Tank was his favourite guy,
Free Willie always made him cry!
And we’ve more….so don’t tell me to hush!
There was that day by the Coast
when you saw more of Grandma than most…
Her boobs came out of her cozzie at full throttle!
It was an event that could traumatise
or give a young boy two black eyes!
No wonder you hit the Blue Wicked bottle!
Just like any little lad,
you looked up to your Dad –
A role model to protect you from harm.
So when off the skateboard you fell,
And ‘Woose!” you heard your Dad yell,
You got back up…with a broken arm!
Maybe that explains the call
we received from your primary school
because you’d told them your Dad had died!
Yes, you little rotter,
You also told them you were called Harry Potter!
If I’d a fiver for every time you’d lied!
So you’ve grown to be a ladies’ man,
lacquered hair and a super tan.
Oh, how can the girls resist?
Maybe Dad will tell them when you’re about to score,
about you sleeping in the bathroom with vomit on the floor!
Somehow, you ain’t quite so attractive when you’re pissed!
And there’s one thing I should say,
to any potential girlfriend coming your way,
as I know how to win over your heart.
Forget the expensive love potion,
just clean behind his ears with baby lotion,
before moving on to any other part….
Should she run her fingers through your hair
they’ll be stuck there so beware!
I swear you use a can of hairspray for every strand!
But that’s the price of looking hot,
Even Taylor says you’re’a mink’, you’re NOT!
when you look like you should be in a boyband.
But when you finally meet that someone who
lights up your world and makes you feel brand new,
don’t forget the other lady who adores you very much.
The one that supported you through good and bad,
Who was better at homework than your Dad
and even taught you your accelerator from your clutch!
So concludes the story of Brandon Boyle,
from tiny baby to man in oil.
We’re here to celebrate your coming of age.
Family and friends will all unite
to say ‘Happy Birthday, you good looking wee shite”!
Good luck as you turn a new page.