From Me Wee Cell

'Twas me wee sister's weddin' day

An' all the kin were there.

The bride, of course, was lovely an'

The groom, quite debonair.

The vows were spoke just beautif'ly.

It all went rather well

Until the damned reception - that's

Where things went straight ta hell.

The caterers had set a spread

The likes of which I'd say

Would see ol' Ramsay shut his yap

An' just be on his way.

Now, Older Brother loves good grub

An' theirs would fit the bill,

So I sat me down an' prepared

To eat and drink me fill.

As we all know, a caterer

Must season sparingly

Lest they offend a palate with

A sensitivity.

Well, this ol' codger's palate thinks

A good meal deserves salt,

So everything that happened next

Might notta' been me fault.

I'd sampled me a bit o' beef

An' found it, frankly, bland,

An' reachin' for the salt, I knocked

It over with me hand.

So, bein' raised a proper gent,

An' one whose hands is deft,

I used me right to scoop the stuff

An' tossed it o'er me left.

The scream that shattered me eardrums

Laid all eyes in the place

On me and someone's little brat

Who'd caught it in the face.

I flung my water at that face

An' things went further south.

As someone's dad grabbed at me arm,

I punched him in 'is mouth.

Me sister has disowned me arse

An' me? I'm servin' time.

It seems flushin' out the brat's eyes

Resulted in a crime.

Altho' fer me,it's all a blur

A riot soon ensued

That grew into a no-holds-barred

With fists an' blood an' food

An' though I canna' recall much,

The judge says it's me fault

So this old gent's luck went bad quick

O'er a wee bit o' salt.