[Lyrics: Beth Malcolm]
There was an auld wifey and she lived Sconewards
Over the fields a wee bit, twenty minutes walkin’ from mine
On Hallowe’en, the story goes, three excited bairns turned up at her door
One was dressed a round, orange pumpkin
The other two were non-descript spookers, with ASDA labels
The bairns knocked on her door, hopeful with their dreepin’ baskets
“Trick or treat, trick or treat!”
“Whit?” says the auld wifey “you’ve no got a song, or a joke, or a story for my troubles?”
Blank we faces.
“Trick or treat” offers the pumpkin again, shyer this time, unable to sound out this most unusual Granny type. The auld wifey grumbles on about things the pumpkin and the spookers dinna understand:
“Americanisms, bairns these days, guising.”
She closes the door on them, and awaits the next round of guisers, with something to offer her in return for a chocolate coin, a handful of monkey nuts and a tangerine.
I remember hearing this story when I was 12 years old. Delighted to be let into any adult joke, I watched as the grown ups laughed, rolled their een, but agreed, she wasn’t wrong.
My grown ups were most unusual grown up types.