Page 40 of Don't Give A Damn About My Plaid Reputation
This time, even Robena laughed.
Kester found himself shaking his head in bemusement. She was alady. A lady born and raised in a castle, the daughter of a laird, trained in the fine arts of music and singing and embroidery.
Yet here she was, paying no mind to what thingsshouldbe, laughing with his men about their cocks.
“In the merry month of January—“
“Nay!” interrupted Auld Gommy with a scowl. “Anytime a song starts within the merry month, we ken it’ll be afolk song.” He spat out the words. “We want somethingreal, something that stirs our blood! Give us aballad, Robbie!”
She didn’t seem concerned with the feedback. “Ye want a ballad about pissing on each other?”
The men agreed whole-heartedly.
Grinning, she began to hum thoughtfully once more. Then:
“Every man here and there
Kens one important fact;
When camping in the wilds,
Ye want a fire at yer back.
But the circle of the firelight
Only goes so far.
Outside of that, a man can see
The shadows, moon, and stars.
For a bit of privacy and such,
That’s where ye want to be;
And that is why I stepped outside
For a little bit of a wee.”
As the men broke into hoots of approval and laughter, Robena raised her voice.
“How was I to possibly ken
Outside that bit of light
Was where my friend Auld Gommy
Lay his head down for the night?
The kind of tree’s important,
Ye cannae deny me this.
But I could dally nae longer;
I had to take a piss.”
Kester nearly choked on his laughter, to hear the word “piss” out of the mouth of the woman he loved. Of course, that mouth was currently topped by a fake mustache, so there was no telling what she might do.
