"Did ye hear aboot iss festival 'ats comin' of next
Says Donal Leith till Ghordie Spence when walkin doon ai street.
"A festival" says Chordie, gie'n his pal a funny look,
"I nivir heard o' 'at afore, chuist fits ade all aboot?"
"Oh thurs songs an' dialect poetry, an' a dose o'
Thurs bairnies at ade every nicht, they canna practice enough.
Ye'd think they'd take ade eisy at perfection widna maiter
But no they hev till get ade richt till pleise ai adjudicator."
"Till pleise ai fa, adjuda fit? A've no heard at
"Weel" says Donal "ades a kinda judge for markin up thur score."
"A kinda judge till mark thur score!" says Chorge wi screwed up broos
"Div ye mean a kind at ai Cattle Show, at judges sheep an 'coos?"
"No no min Chorge yur aaful daft, at kind widna
An adjudicater's lek a judge, withoot ai rubber boots."
"A posher judge 'ats fit yur sayin'." "Ye could say'at" Donal mutters
"But ye'll no see them at ai cattle show all clartered up wi' gutters."
"But fit aboot iss dialect" says Chordie, narky
"Div ye mean ai kind we speak wursels, lek wur speakin' invanow?"
"Ye surely dinna think they'd speak, lek forners feh ai sooth
Some o' yin crowd speak as though they'd marbles in thur mooth."
"Ai trouble is ai mithers Chorge, thur bairns are
If ye hear them on thur rod till school, ye'd wonder wis they Weekers.
But chuist ye mention 'festival', an' thur rushin' wi' thur entry
They learn ai bairns ai dialect, an' then they learn them chentry."
"Iss modern age," sighed Chordie, ai dialect'll
soon be gone
They'd hev a better festival, if they'd leive ai bairns alon'."
We'll take iss agitators for a yarn at ai Ould Man's Rest
'Ats far they'll hear ai Caithness dialect, spoken at ades best."