Bard’s Oration 2009
All O’ Scotland when they rise, stagger doon wi’ bleary eyes,
and contemplate the bacon, eggs and toast.
Tae the front door they will flee, and forego their cups o’ tea
tae get the first read o’ the Sunday Post.
But its no’ the Hearts or Hibs, or the HON Man wi’ his fibs
That keep them frae their cornflakes and their prunes.
They will risk domestic strife for the canty couthy life
O’ Scotland’s favourite family – the Broons!
Where the Broons live, no one knows, Glasgow, Dundee or Montrose?
For DC Thomson never let us know..
Be it Inverness or Ayr, the Broons live everywhere.
They’re made quite at hame wherever they may go.
But there’s one place that it’s not, that capital wee spot,
aye, Auld Reekie, its the cream o’ Scotland’s toons.
For when they go away for their annual holiday,
It’s there ye’ll find the hale eleven Broons.
Ma and Pa head up the clan. She’s a wumman, he’s a man.
But now’n again the roles can be reversed.
When Paw decides tae try his wee hand at DIY
Then in a family crisis they’re immersed.
They’ve tae ca’ a tradesman in efter a’ the fuss and din.
It incurs a bill the size o’ a tycoons.
And its needless for tae say that its Ma that saves the day
and that’s another chapter o’ the Broons.
Grandpa Broon’s a dapper chap in his bow tie, beard and cap.
He’s as sly’s a box o’ monkeys and forbye.
Though he loves them a’ the same, wha can say that he’s tae blame
that the Bairn is sure the apple o’ his eye.
When she talks her baby talk Grandpa takes her for a walk
and feeds her granny sookers ’till she swoons.
But they’re in for a surprise when some geriatric guise
goes a’ wrong and brings amusement tae the Broons.
Well next up is Joe and Hen. They fair like the but and ben.
Wi’ their manly skills the girls, they sure impress.
But its never very long before things go really wrong.
And Hen and Joe then find they’re in a mess.
They come back fed up and sick, for they didna’ get a click.
Wi’ dads or boy friends chasin’ these buffoons
Then they skulk aboot the hoose, which provides a great excuse
for quips and laughter frae other Broons.
Then, of course there’s Mags and Daph wha are aye guid for a laugh.
As they dress up for the dancin’ and the boys
But their efforts usually fail for they seldom get a male
Despite their many varied female ploys.
Maggie’s really quite a beaut but poor Daphne’s far from cute
Despite her visits tae the hair saloons.
For the driers aye ignite and poor Daph ends up a sight
but there’s aye a happy ending in the Broons.
Now Horace is nae fool and he’s really good at school.
He should be, he’s been goin’ for sixty years!
In his blazer, specs and cap, he sometimes looks a sap
wi’ his satchel and the pencils in his ears.
His annual school report never leads tae any sport
and he’s ayeways at his desk in the cartoons.
But what irks me maist o’ a’ he looks nought like Maw or Paw
so is he related tae the ither Broons?
Second last then there’s the twins, source o’ mony laughs and grins
when they’re up tae mischief there’s aye fun and games
Bein’ bandaged by the bairn wi a sling aboot their airm
did ye notice that they havena ony names?
But a’ the pranks they play end up at the close o’ day
wi’ laughs at these incorrigable loons.
they dinna gie a hoot when Paw gets the slipper oot,
for doon their troosers is a copy o’ the Broons.
Then lastly, there’s the Bairn kent frae here tae Fettercairn
and frae Wick tae Wigtown its the very same.
In her wee bit flouncy dress, she never looks a mess
and when things go wrong she never is tae blame.
Whether ridin’ on her bike, or sayin’ ‘me no like’,
or dancin’ tae her Grandpaw’s diddled tunes.
She aye gets oot tae play and always gets her way.
Is there a bairn like that ootside the Broons?
So there ye have it a’ the family o’ Maw and Paw
A national institution ye’ll agree.
They’ve gein us laughs and tears and for over sixty years
they’ve been crucial tae the lives o’ folk like me.
Round the world the Scots are kent for the things they did invent.
Like RADAR’ penicillin and pontoons.
But ower every clever plan we still thank an Englishman
D. D. Watkins, the inventor of The Broons
So here’s tae the Sunday Post, I’d like to drink a Toast
In gratitude for everything they’ve done
Withoot the weekly fix o’ the family’s laughs and tricks,
for me a Sunday isna right begun.
For I’d raither read their feats than watch BBC repeats
be it Monty Python, Frazier or the Goons.
So cronies, raise your glass and get up off your (chair)
Here’s tae them a’ wha’s like them, aye the Broons!