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Thomas Mc Rae
[To Thomas Mc Rae’s index]

Wee Toaty Rid Ridin’ Hewd

By Tomas Mc Rae, Brisbane, Queensland, Australia, © 2008

Heh, see that auld tenement ower thair? Aye, the condemned yin thair pu’in’ doon the moarn. Weell, when it wiz new, an’ ye could even git waher oot o’ the taps, a wee lassie lived oan the toap flair. A’buddy ca’d ’er Wee Toaty Rid Ridin’ Hewd except fur ’er mammie. Seeminly yin moarnin’ she wiz oot oan the road wi’ ’er pals, playin’ at peevers when ’er muther stuck ’er heid oot the windae an’ yelled … “Faimeeeeeee, cum up here this minit!” (Ye see, Faimie wiz ’er richt name. Ah dinnae ken whoat a’body ca’d ’er Wee Toaty Rid Ridn’ Hewd fur.)

Rotkäppchen, 1883, by Albert Anker (1831–1910)

“Aaaaw, Maaaaa!” yelled the lassie, “Ah’m no want’n tae. Cun Ah no stie here an’ play at peevery beds?” … “Naw, ye’ cannae, yuh wee nyaff! Noo git up thae stairs afore Ah melt ye!”

So up the stairs the wee sowel went. “See that string bag fu’ o’ nice things? Ye’ve tae tak it richt tae yer Granny’s this very meenit. She’s been pewrly an’ this’ll cheer ’er up … Thairs Kielerz jam, Liptunz ham, a poond o’ best buher, oarangiz, aipplez, ten Woodbine, an’ a wee hauf boahul fur her … noo away ye go wi’ it afore Ah gie ye a ding oan the lug.”

“But, Mammie, itz an awfy long wok tae her wee but an ben in the widz. Ah dinnae want tae go!” Ding!!! So it wiz thut Wee Toaty Rid Ridin Hood picked up the string bag o’ nice things and went tae her granny’z wee bit but an’ ben in the middle o’ the widz. She wiz a’ crabbit uz she walked along, a’ oaf a sudden a voice said … “Hullooo thair, Hen! Whair ur ye goin tae wi’ that string bag o’ goodies?” Richt in frunt o’ ’er wiz a shewge big wewlf, fur in thae dayz, when tenements wur new, wewlfz cood tok, an’ wawked like men.

“Ah’m gawn tae muh Granniez,” said the wee lassie. “Aye that’ll be the auld ducky whae lives in the but an ben in the widz? It’s an awfy long wie tae cairry that big bag, Ah’ll cairry it fur ye, ye poor wee sowel.” “Naw, ye’ll no!” shoutid Wee Toaty Rid Ridin’ Hewd, “Git loast, yuh dirty grait hairy loon, ye!” An awey she wawked by ’ersel’.

But the muckle great wewlf didnae git loast fur he kent a’ the shoart cuts roond the closes. Afore ye cewd say “Auchtermuchtie hooz yer faither” he wiz through the widz, an’ chappin’ at Granniez door. “Whaez that?” said Granny. “It’s oanly me, ra poastie wi a tulligra,” the wewlf answered. Pewr Grannie opened ra door an’ afore ye coud say “Ah loast ma loaket at Drumnadrochit” that moanster wiz inside the room.

Furst he tewk Grannyz bunnet an’ shawl. Then he tied ’er up, shoved a hanky in ’er mooth, an’ pushed ’er unner ra bed. He pit oan the shawl an’ bunnet an goat Grannyz glesses tae pit oan hiz noaz. Then he goat intae the big bed an waited.

It wiznae long afore there wiz a chap ut ra door. “Iz that yew, Hen?” said the wewlf, “Cum away in! Nice tae see ye … Ye’ve nae idea hoo much Ah’ve been sufferin.” So in cam the wee sowel wi’ the big string bag o’ goodies. “Cum oan ower tae the bed, Hen! Ah cannae see ye that weel ower thair.”

“Petit Chaperon Rouge”, 1897, by Gustave Doré (1832–1883) in Les Contes de Perrault

So ower cum Wee Toaty Rid Ridin’ Hood. She hud a look at ’er Grannie. “Hey, Granny! Ah didnae ken ye hud such lang, hairy, pointy ears. Ye’re richt ugly!” “That micht be richt, but Ah can hear ye weel enough,” said the muckle great wewlf in disguise, “Hey, Granny, yer eyes is a’ yellie an’ bluddshoat,” said the wee lassie “Huv ye been oan that VP wine again? Is that whoat yer sufferin’ fur?” “Mubbie so but Ah cun see ye weel enough,” said the nasty big beast in disguise. “Hey Granny, see yer teeth? Weel, Ah think thair false yins,” laughed Wee Toaty Rid Ridin’ Hewd. “Hoo did ye ken that?!” shoutid ra wewlf , “Onyhow, thair still gewd enuff tae eat yew up! Aye, bonez an’ a’. Cumeer, ye sweet, wee sowel.” Oot o’ the bed louped ra wewlf.

“Yuh stupit bamstick, ye!” laffl’t the toaty wee lass, “Ah’ll huv ye know that Ah’ve goat black belts in judo an’ karate, un’ Ah’m weerin’ ma tackety buits under this sweet wee dress. Cumeer yersel, ye hairy awld fewl! Ah’ll gie yew it!” An she did tae! Flung ’im a’ roond the place, stoated ’im aff the roof, the wa’s, and the flair afore dauncin’ a’ ower ’im wi’ her tackety buits. She pu’d Granny oot frae under the bed and cut ’er luise. “See yew, Granny? Yew git stuck intae yer wee hauf boahle an’ Ah’ll git stuck intae yon muckle wewlf again.” She pu’d him ootside by ’is tail an swung him roond three times … “Cheerio, Pal!” she shoutid as he shoat intae the sky.

So Wee Toaty Rid Ridin’ Hewd an her Granny hud a smashin’ time wi a’ that jam an Liptunz ham afore they a’ lived happily ever after. Whoat aboot ra wewlf? Weel, see, that Hubbiloo tulliscope thing they’ve goat? Seemin’ly they saw a long-eared hairy thing flyin past it the uther nicht … Thair still arguin’ whoat it wiz.

Weel, that’z ma story … Coarse itz true, honestly.

Be seein’ ye, pal.


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