Document 85
Heivenlie Gowf Coorses
Author(s): Robert Fairnie
Copyright holder(s): Robert Fairnie
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Twa three weeks efter Geordie Jooks hid thon awfu stramash doon at Gullane, when his gowf ba hit a thon puir sowl on the heid, twa o his feres, Wullie an Sandy, wis haein a wee crack aboot it in the club-hoose efter thair roond o gowf at Monktonha. Sandy brocht twa pints ower fae the bar tae thair table an cairried on wi the crack juist as if he hidnae been awa.
“Ay! A doot if a ba’s got yer name on it Wullie, the’r no a lot ye can dae aboot it.”
Wullie pit a haund forrit an taen yin o the pints.
“Monie o thaim, Sandy!” he said, takin a guid swallae afore giein a repone. “Ay, ye’r richt thare. A’m gey thankfu ma name’s Broon. Can ye imagine whit it maun be like tae be cried Dunlop?”
Efter a guid bicker thegither an anither swallae or twa, thay baith gaed awfu quiet an thochtfu for a wee while then Wullie said, “Ye ken Sandy, A often wunner if they hae gowf coorses in Heiven.”
“Whit dae ye mean?” answert Sandy, “A aye thocht that the gowf coorse wis Heiven!”
“Ay, A ken. But efter ye dee.” Wullie went on, “Dis that mean ye winna be able tae swing a gowf cleik for the hail o eternity or dae ye think they’ll hae gowf coorses in Heiven an aw?”
“A dinnae ken aboot that.” said Sandy, pouin at his lug, “But A’ll tell ye this Wullie. If the’r no onie thare, A’m no gaun! A widnae ken whit tae dae wi masel if A didnae hae ma gemm o gowf.”
“Ay! It disnae thole thinkin aboot.” girned Wullie efter anither waucht o beer, “An whit’s mair, the’r nae wey A ken o that ye can fin oot. The’r naebodie ye can speir on’t – no e’en the meenister, for he widnae ken aither. Wid he?”
“Naw!” cam the repone, “He widnae ken a gowf ba fae a pan-drop. A doot the onlie wey tae fin oot is tae gaun thair yersel an mak siccar.”
“No me!” lauched Wullie, “A’ll bide ma time. It’s a ae wey road tae thon place. Yince ye pit a fit ower the yett, the’r nae wey back.”
“A didnae mean it that wey Wullie. It’s juist that if a spaewyfe can git wittins back fae the deid fowk, then ye’d think the’r maun be some wey tae fin oot if the’r onie gowf coorses in Heiven or no.”
“Ay! Aiblins if a gowfer we ken wis tae dee, a spaewyfe micht be able tae speir him.”
“Tell ye whit oo’ll dae!” Sandy said, “If A git taen afore you, an the’r onie wey at aw o gittin word back tae ye, A’ll let ye ken for shuir. An if ye dinnae hear fae me athin, say, twa month, ye can gaun an see a spaewyfe an she micht be able tae git ma words back tae ye. Whit’s mair, gin it’s me that sees you oot, you can let me ken. Hou’s that?”
“Ay! Soonds guid tae me.” reponed Wullie wi a grin on his face, spittin on his haund an shovin it forrit tae seal thair tryst.
Weel, efter yon day, twa three month gaed by an a wheen mair gemms o gowf till ae day, Sandy up an dee’d. No that he hid been no weel or oniethin. He juist drappit doon deid efter his denner awfu sudden like.
Three days efter, saw Wullie at the kirkyaird wi aw Sandy’s ither freends an faimlie. When the meenister wis giein a wee prayer at the yirdin, Wullie’s een wis shut ticht, his heid wis doon an he wis greetin his hert oot when, aw o a suddentie, he heard a wee whisper in his lug fae ahint.
“Wullie!” it said. He birlt roond quick tae see wha it wis but naebodie wis thare.
“Wullie!” quo the vice again, “It’s me! Sandy!”
“Sandy??? But you’re supposed tae be deid!”
“Ay! Dae ye no think A ken A’m deid? A’v juist cam back for a meinit tae tell ye whit it’s like in Heiven an tae keep oor tryst. Dae ye no mind?”
Wullie’s face wis a sicht an he wis tremmlin fae heid tae fit as he speirt, “Is it really you, Sandy?”
“Ay.” whispert the vice, “If it wisnae me, hou wid A ken ye wis speirin on aboot the gowf coorses in Heiven?”
“Ma Guidness, Sandy! Hou ar ye pal?”
“Weel, A’m no bad at aw Wullie. Ye widnae believe hou guid it is here. The gowf coorses is oot o this warld. Ye shuid see thaim. A’m tellin ye Wullie, Monktonha cannae haud a caunle tae this place.”
“A’m awfu gled tae hear ye’r likin it sae weel Sandy, but oo’r aw missin ye somethin sair the noo. A cannae tak it in that ye’v gane.”
“Ay, A ken pal, but dinnae fash yersel aboot that the noo. The’r somethin else A hae tae tell ye afore A gaun.”
“Whit’s that?”
“A hid a gliff at the teein aff times afore A cam awa, an oo’r baith beukit on the first tee for aicht o’clock the morn’s mornin!”
“Ay! A doot if a ba’s got yer name on it Wullie, the’r no a lot ye can dae aboot it.”
Wullie pit a haund forrit an taen yin o the pints.
“Monie o thaim, Sandy!” he said, takin a guid swallae afore giein a repone. “Ay, ye’r richt thare. A’m gey thankfu ma name’s Broon. Can ye imagine whit it maun be like tae be cried Dunlop?”
Efter a guid bicker thegither an anither swallae or twa, thay baith gaed awfu quiet an thochtfu for a wee while then Wullie said, “Ye ken Sandy, A often wunner if they hae gowf coorses in Heiven.”
“Whit dae ye mean?” answert Sandy, “A aye thocht that the gowf coorse wis Heiven!”
“Ay, A ken. But efter ye dee.” Wullie went on, “Dis that mean ye winna be able tae swing a gowf cleik for the hail o eternity or dae ye think they’ll hae gowf coorses in Heiven an aw?”
“A dinnae ken aboot that.” said Sandy, pouin at his lug, “But A’ll tell ye this Wullie. If the’r no onie thare, A’m no gaun! A widnae ken whit tae dae wi masel if A didnae hae ma gemm o gowf.”
“Ay! It disnae thole thinkin aboot.” girned Wullie efter anither waucht o beer, “An whit’s mair, the’r nae wey A ken o that ye can fin oot. The’r naebodie ye can speir on’t – no e’en the meenister, for he widnae ken aither. Wid he?”
“Naw!” cam the repone, “He widnae ken a gowf ba fae a pan-drop. A doot the onlie wey tae fin oot is tae gaun thair yersel an mak siccar.”
“No me!” lauched Wullie, “A’ll bide ma time. It’s a ae wey road tae thon place. Yince ye pit a fit ower the yett, the’r nae wey back.”
“A didnae mean it that wey Wullie. It’s juist that if a spaewyfe can git wittins back fae the deid fowk, then ye’d think the’r maun be some wey tae fin oot if the’r onie gowf coorses in Heiven or no.”
“Ay! Aiblins if a gowfer we ken wis tae dee, a spaewyfe micht be able tae speir him.”
“Tell ye whit oo’ll dae!” Sandy said, “If A git taen afore you, an the’r onie wey at aw o gittin word back tae ye, A’ll let ye ken for shuir. An if ye dinnae hear fae me athin, say, twa month, ye can gaun an see a spaewyfe an she micht be able tae git ma words back tae ye. Whit’s mair, gin it’s me that sees you oot, you can let me ken. Hou’s that?”
“Ay! Soonds guid tae me.” reponed Wullie wi a grin on his face, spittin on his haund an shovin it forrit tae seal thair tryst.
Weel, efter yon day, twa three month gaed by an a wheen mair gemms o gowf till ae day, Sandy up an dee’d. No that he hid been no weel or oniethin. He juist drappit doon deid efter his denner awfu sudden like.
Three days efter, saw Wullie at the kirkyaird wi aw Sandy’s ither freends an faimlie. When the meenister wis giein a wee prayer at the yirdin, Wullie’s een wis shut ticht, his heid wis doon an he wis greetin his hert oot when, aw o a suddentie, he heard a wee whisper in his lug fae ahint.
“Wullie!” it said. He birlt roond quick tae see wha it wis but naebodie wis thare.
“Wullie!” quo the vice again, “It’s me! Sandy!”
“Sandy??? But you’re supposed tae be deid!”
“Ay! Dae ye no think A ken A’m deid? A’v juist cam back for a meinit tae tell ye whit it’s like in Heiven an tae keep oor tryst. Dae ye no mind?”
Wullie’s face wis a sicht an he wis tremmlin fae heid tae fit as he speirt, “Is it really you, Sandy?”
“Ay.” whispert the vice, “If it wisnae me, hou wid A ken ye wis speirin on aboot the gowf coorses in Heiven?”
“Ma Guidness, Sandy! Hou ar ye pal?”
“Weel, A’m no bad at aw Wullie. Ye widnae believe hou guid it is here. The gowf coorses is oot o this warld. Ye shuid see thaim. A’m tellin ye Wullie, Monktonha cannae haud a caunle tae this place.”
“A’m awfu gled tae hear ye’r likin it sae weel Sandy, but oo’r aw missin ye somethin sair the noo. A cannae tak it in that ye’v gane.”
“Ay, A ken pal, but dinnae fash yersel aboot that the noo. The’r somethin else A hae tae tell ye afore A gaun.”
“Whit’s that?”
“A hid a gliff at the teein aff times afore A cam awa, an oo’r baith beukit on the first tee for aicht o’clock the morn’s mornin!”
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Heivenlie Gowf Coorses. 2024. In The Scottish Corpus of Texts & Speech. Glasgow: University of Glasgow. Retrieved 21 November 2024, from http://www.scottishcorpus.ac.uk/document/?documentid=85.
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"Heivenlie Gowf Coorses." The Scottish Corpus of Texts & Speech. Glasgow: University of Glasgow, 2024. Web. 21 November 2024. http://www.scottishcorpus.ac.uk/document/?documentid=85.
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Heivenlie Gowf Coorses
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