It wisnae the same this Ne’erday.
(Wee Ali says so too.)
Naethin’ on the table.
Naethin’ much to do.
I think there’s as many as last year
(naebody’s stayed away)
but they’re a’ inside whisperin’
while we’re sent oot to play.
Last night I slept in the bed-settee,
wee sister slept in a drawer
and Ali was under a big fur coat
snorin’ on the floor.
I liked it when they a’ went on
aboot times when they were wee
and I got to stay up late
or sleep on Grandma’s knee.
I liked the party pieces,
daft tales and silly rhymes,
and cousins singin’ sad songs
of love and olden times.
I liked the baby glasses
on the shiny tray
but whisky came in tumblers
yesterday.
The party hadnae started
before they a’ got sad
and auntie Jean got angry
wi’ my cousin’s Dad.
He niver would’ve said that word
if she’d heard what he said
and it isnae fair that we’re the ones
who got sent tae bed.
Last year we lay awake for hours --
such laughing through the door,
thumps and bumps and skirls and reels
shaking the kitchen floor.
This year they just talked
till I couldnae hear the words
and nane o’ us stayed awake
to hear the birds.
Mibbe there’s somethin’ else,
somethin’ I don’t know,
but I’m no gonnae mind a bit
when they say it’s time to go.
It’s no the same wi’ no Grandma
and, between me and you,
I think they think that I don’t know.
But I do. I miss her too.