Need a Body Cry

That wasn't the end of our conversation.

Ye noo, said Bela, tha's no a bad wee song. Wha's the rest o' it?

Robert Burns wrote it, I said. It goes O Jenny's a' weet, poor body, Jenny's seldom dry: She draigl't a' her petticoatie, Comin thro the Rye.

Hoo, hoo! he laughed. Aye, 'tis as ah thocht, 'tis aboot a wikit wee lassie.

You may think so, I said tartly, but may I say that's a very male point of view. It seems to me poor Jenny is a victim of abuse. Need a body cry, indeed!

Och, sorry lassie, said Bela. Ah wasn'y thinkin'. Anyhoo, changin' the subject, how did the folks at yer concert like ma Rhapsody?

Oh they loved it I replied. Even my mother, who generally detests you, said that it wasn't bad. And now that I recall, the man next to me had reserved a seat especially for his hat.

Ye doan't say?

I do say. And the hat seemed to like it as much as anyone.