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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