Doric Sayings

This is a basic collection of North-east of Scotland sayings. I hope you enjoy them, and offer your own favourites for inclusion. This list was compiled one evening by the Buckie Scots Language Group.

Sayings and sic like:

A cock aye craws best on his ain midden-heid

A bawbee’s wit and a poun’s pretence

A face like a weet dish-cloot
A face like a skelpit airse
A face that wid soor milk

A’thing passes, the soor alang wi’ the sweet

Ate’t a’ the day, and cla’ the wa’ the morn.

A fat soo’s airse is aye weel creeshed

Aye at the fit o’ Grief Street

A hairy man’s a happy man; a hairy wife’s a witch!

A hen on a het girdle

A gangin’ fit’s aye getting.

A stan’in’ sack fulls best.

As sweir as an auld horse

As happy as a blaik amang trekkle.

As peer as a kirk moose

As saft as parritch

As thrawn as the deil

As hard as Hinnerson’s (airse!)

As black as the Earl o’ Hell’s weskit

As slow as trekkle on a cauld day

As happy as a pig amo’ glaur

A green New Year fills the kirkyard

A green Yule mak’s a full kirkyaird

A’ mou’s maun hae maet

Back tae auld claes and parritch

Better worn sheen than worn sheets (Sometimes even neater: Better beets nor sheets)

Better oot the queets than oot the fashion

Better belly burst than gweed maet blaudit

Caul’ kale het up again

Dirt ahin the door

Ee diddle an’ I’ll dance

Feels and bairns shouldna see things half deen

Fin the auls cock craws, the young cock learns

Fit ye nivver hid, ye nivver miss

Fit like?

Fit’s a’ yer sough?

Fit’s afore ye winna ging by ye

Fit’s warst wi’ ye?

Gaun like the clappers o’ a mull

Guid fowk’s scarce

Gin I were young, fit could I dee!

Grummle ye may, but gang ye must

Heest ye ower wi’ yer wyvin’! We’ve gotten gas in the garret!

I thocht I wis Airchie!

I widna hae ca’d the King ma cousin!

If ye flee wi’ the craws, ye’ll get shot an’ a’.

Ilka door his a slippery stane. (And some hae twa)

I’ll see ye past the hen’s maet!

It’ll a’ come oot in the wash

It’s a foul wife that washes on Setterday

It tak’s a lang speen tae sup wi’ a Fifer

It wad be a peety tae blaud anither couple!

Jouk and let the jaw gae by

Keep a calm sough

Keep yer ain fish-guts for yer ain sea-maws.

Keep yer breath tae queel yer parritch

Kick ae airse an’ a’body dirls

Little wit to the heid mak’s a lot o’ rinnin’ tae the feet

Lang may yer lum reek (wi’ ither fowks coal!)

Like the cattie that lickit the cream!

Maet ga’en intae an ill skin

Mak’ a kirk or a mill o’t

Mony a mickle mak’s a muckle

May chuckens are aye cheepin’.

Nae twa bladies o’ kale!

Nivver pit the cairt afore the horse

Nae loss fit a freen’ gets

Noddin will come to Culloden!

Ne’er cast a clout ere May be oot

Pottie canna ca’ kettlie black-airse

Rainin’ hale watter!

Rin deil, rin dog

Sair wark’s nae easy

She wad rise if her doup wad lat her!

She ca’d her nowt tae a silly market

Sair’s ma trachle since ma first man deed!

Tatties ower the side

That’s a different Maggie Rennie

The belly keeps the back up

The clartier the cosier

The girse is aye greener on the ither side o’ the hill

The deil’s aye guid til his ain

The Deil luiked ower the Hill o’ Durn, And said “Bonnie Portsoy, ye’re a’ my ain!”

The hale pun o’ butter’s in amang the kale

There’s naething queerer nor fowk

There’s a heap o’ killing in a cyaard!

There’s aye dung (the dung-cairt) aifter the Lord Mayor’s Show

There’s aye a suppie watter far the stirkie droons

Thocht plantit a feather and expec’it tae growe a hen

Tae gang tae a waddin’ is the makin’ o’ anither

The wardle’s ill-pairted

Trouble in the ga’lie

Turn the clean side to the Laird!

There’s nae feel like an auld feel!

The king aye comes the cadger’s wye

Up the nicht, doon the morn!

Up top, scallywag (scabby dock) bit nivver mind yer beuks, ye’ll seen be back!

Warm eneuch, braw eneuch!

Whistlin maids and crawin hens are nae lucky aboot ony fairm toon

We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns

Ye nivver miss the watter till the waal rins dry

Ye canna mak a silk purse oot o’ a soo’s ear

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