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