Cut From The Same Cloth – Ben Docherty

But yer family so a love ye

“Cut From The Same Cloth” by Ben Docherty, written in Glaswegian dialect, is a narrative on two sister’s relationship and a reflection on the brutality and realism of love. It follows a comedic yet harsh tone whilst exploring the historic barbarity that is affection. Fighting will always be one the key components in a relationship. It’s unhealthy not to challenge ideas or have conflict and that’s what makes love bearable. Compliance will never suit us and we will always need love so in our relationships we follow a messy, violent, passionate equilibrium that is ornately normal.(ps the poem is a little in appropriate at times but really adds to the sense of realism, thanks for considering me and I greatly understand if you wish not to enter the poem but the bad language really does serve a purpose. Also, it’s not that bad)

Cut from the same cloth

Ben Docherty

Cut fae the same clath

And we came oot that way

No hawf fightin and tuggin

The claths seen better days

Now we love each ether dearly

But honesty a must hev

A want tae bastarding kill ye

Naw but a love ye, or so ave heard

Cut the cloth,

Auch you’d ken aboot cutting that clath

Ye dae a fine job a rippin ma knitten

Always sense how ta rub me up the wrang way

Biggest ershole in Britain 

Ye could aye start a fight in an empty room

But you’ll hae come an find me

Always raring to go 

Always brimmin wae glee

On ma despair yer dancin

In ma misery dae ye bloom

Hell’l hov tae digger that bit deeper

Just tae give yer arrogance some room

And ave telt masel tae shrug it af

Tae take the higher stance 

But am at stabbing that clath

And trust ma sweet yev git nae chance

Sew the cloth,

But yer family so a love ye

That’s the way it goes

A can take the pain a can aye pit it up

When yer treddin oan ma toes

A hugs a warm embrace

Well tek a cup o brew

If we’re honest a few too many glasses

But That’s wit sisters do

We’ll always be raring tae fight

Yev beilt ma blood sa much

Am propped up by the steam it’s become

And the anger a call ma crutch

But that’s the hing about the clath

It’s wear and tear but holds

We’re no a perfect family

But in love, aye, we fit the mould 

Ben Docherty, Glasgow

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