Scottish Jokes

Two brothers had lived for a long time as joint tenants of
the same farm. Both were bachelors, used to each other’s company and little ways. To outside observers, their life seemed perfectly harmonious. One night after supper, as they sat by the fire, the elder brother said: ‘James, we’re not getting any younger. We’ve naebody to look after us when we get to be old doddery men.’
‘Well, what can we do about that?’ said his brother.
‘I’ll tell you what. You just go and look round a bit till
you find a nice, tidy, thrifty quiet widow woman, court
her a bit, say nice things to her, ask her to marry you, and bring her back here. You’ll be the head o’ the household, she’ll keep you warm at night, and I’ll be just like a lodger, nae trouble to the pair of you. And we’ll be well looked after.’ There was silence for a time, then James said: ‘Why is it always me that gets the dirty jobs to do round here?’

An old crofter was leading his mare home from the moor
with a load of peat. As he passed his neighbour Hector’s
place, Hector remarked: ‘It looks as if this will be the last
year your old mare will manage the peats for you.’
‘Aye, indeed,’ the old man replied, ‘and if I can’t find the
money for a new horse, there’ll be nothing for it but I’ll
have to get myself a wife.’

Nowadays, whisky and funerals are often still closely
connected, but there was once a time when whisky was an essential ingredient at a funeral. When an old lady died on one small Hebndean isle, in the middle of winter, the steamer had not been able to come near for some time, and there was a dearth of whisky on the island. With not enough whisky available to bury his mother with due ceremony, her son became anxious, and scanned the stormy horizon looking for any sign of the Dunara Castle. After a week’s watching, and no ship, he still refused to sanction the burial. ‘She’s auld, and it’s cauld, and she’s thin, and she’ll keep,’ he said.

When Lord Seafield, who had been the pro-Union
Chancellor of Scotland in the last Parliament and made the well-known comment about ‘ane end of ane auld sang’ in 1707, reproached his brother Patrick Ogilvie for being a cattle trader, Patrick replied, ‘It’s better to sell cattle than nations.’

Campbell of Combie was an Argyllshire chieftain of the
nineteenth century, a man of great physical stature, but, it was said, of correspondingly low moral principles. Not far away lived Miss MacNabb, a maiden lady of a certain age and of irreproachable morals. Combie was an occasional guest at her table, and, on one such occasion, he proposed a toast. All the guests were required to fill their glasses to the brim, ready to drain them off in the old style, and Combie rose to his feet. Addressing his hostess, he said, ‘I propose the old Scottish toast of “Honest men and bonny lassies”,’ and with a bow, he resumed his seat. Miss MacNabb bowed in turn, with her usual amiable smile, and said, taking up her glass, ‘Weel, Combji, I am sure we may both drink to that, for it will apply neither to
you nor to me.’

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