What Im Called?

A Scottish old timer in Scotland, in a bar, talking to a young man.

Old Man: Lad, look out there to the field. Do ya see that fence?

Look how well its built. I built that fence stone by stone with me own two hands.

Piled it for months. But do they call me McGregor-the-Great-Fence-Builder? Nooo..

Then the old man gestured at the bar. Look here at the bar. Do ya see how smooth and polished it is?

I planed that surface down by me own achin back. Carved that wood with me own hard labor, for eighteen days I worked.

But do they call me McGregor-the-Great- Bar-builder? Nooo…

Then the old man points out the window. Eh, Laddy, look out to sea. Do ya see that pier that stretches out as far as the eye can see?

I built that pier with the sweat off me back. I nailed it board by board, hands blistered and swollen by the salt.

But do they call me McGregor-the-Great-Pier-Builder? Nooo…

Then the old man looks around nervously, trying to make sure no one is paying attention. Ya screw one little goat . . .

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