The Moose In The Hoose

Robert Anderson Fri Mar 18 2011, 17:00

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I was born in 'The Gorbals, Glasgow', in 1959, and lived in a single end tenement flat on Old Rutherglen Road. This I shared with my parents, two older brothers, and a mouse called Jeremy. The term single end for the ignorant or snob, derives from Glasgow slang wording for a one room apartment with an 'in-shot, that would be curtained off for a double bed, if you were lucky. With all this luxury, you also had the use of an outside close toilet, which you'd share with either six or eight other families in the close.
We were lucky, and must have been the richest in the close, as we bought our apartment for the extravagant sum of twenty one pounds and twenty one shillings - twenty one guineas. Looking back now, our mouse must have had delusions of grandeur as it mingled with the lesser class of mouse. It seemed to have a richer pallet and would only nibble on the best of crumbs with it’s cheese treats that we would take from the mouse trap when mum and dad were sleeping. Mum would always swear that Jeremy was the smartest mouse that she had ever come across.

The Moose In The Hoose

Come here ye wee creation of natures blessing
Yer timid and scurry within my addressing
Ah think yer missing and lost in ma dwelling
If only you spoke, then that would be telling
Well you seem at lodging here, in this hoose
Ma wee furry, four legged, long tailed moose
Aye, yer happy to eat ma scraps, and tuck ma breed
But I wonder what goes on, inside that wee heed
While yer sniffing here, and sniffing there
Is it a lass that ye seek, or are ye hiding her?
Hiv ye got her hidden, under the stair?
Or in ma pantry, where the pantries bare?
Is it the wind that ye smell, and want to be free?
Hiv you an abode, owner, under the old birch tree?
Hiv ye a family oot there, that hiv to be fed?
And a wifey tucked up, and heating the bed?
So yer married then, but playing the field?
If she catches ye, yer fate is sealed
But somehow I think yer no the type
To rush willy, nilly, and act like tripe
Ye see for all ye are, and the size of ye
It's all and to me, one big mystery

© Robert Anderson

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