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Bloodline
By Allison McVety
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As I child I ne'er forgot
That I was probably a Scott,
My father used to talk of kilt and clan.
He tracked the family doon
As far as Carlisle toun,
But no further could a word of us be got.
My kith and kin are Celt,
So my father strongly felt,
Yet my name it must be said is in the Irish
So blarney stone in part
And with heather in my heart,
From a baser metal I am clearly smelt
With links to Cheetham Hill,
And a photo on the sill
Of a woman who could easily be a Jew
I could have been McLevi,
But instead I am McVety,
So I guess I'm just a product of the mill.
Yet there's no use in dwellin'
On the sayin' or the spellin' -
You simply cannae be what you are not.
We're a mixed bloodline,
And singin' Old Langsyne
Willnae turn a mongrel into Scott.
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Two significant events occurred at Allison
McVety's birth - her sister took one look at her and howled for a dog and her
father, not expecting another girl, and having no name prepared, named her after
a horse that promptly fell at the first fence. Add to that a nose that inspired
Concorde engineers, and you will understand why she has sought solace in
laughter and writing.
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