The Orra Man

The Orra Man by Freddy Anderson 

When Adam oot o’ heaven
was hounded for his sin,
he knew not where on this wide earth
his labours to begin;
to leave him thus bewildered
was never in God’s plan,
so He took a pickle wad o’ dirt
and made the orra man.

O the orra man’s a marvel,
the blessing o’ mankind
he serves the needs o’ ane and a’
in every race and clime.
O the orra man’s essential
to fill and bile the can,
to sweep and brush and muck the byre
we need the orra man.

Your poor oul’ maw is wearied oot,
she’s never off her feet,
wi’ making beds an’ grub for all
she seldom gets a seat;
she cleans the shoes, she polishes,
she scours the pots and pans,
she’ll tell you waht it’s like to be
the poor old orra man.

Man launches into outer space,
and robots multiply
fantastic whigmaleerie gigs
now sail the starry sky;
wonders great we will create,
but try the best we can,
there’s nae machine we’ll make to match,
the good auld orra man.

When climbers conquered Everest,
they made that grand ascension
with sturdy will on hearts of oak
and an orra man called Tensing.
I’ll praise the independent soul
yet show me him who can
sincerely say, he did it all,
without the orra man.