Scottish Yarn . . .
A young Scottish lad and lass were sitting on a low stone wall, holding hands and gazing out over the Loch.
For several minutes they sat silently, then finally the lass looked at the lad and said,
"A pinney fur ye thoughts, Angus."
The lad replied, "Well, uh, I was tinkin' . . . perhaps it's aboot time fur a wee kiss."
The lass blushed, then leaned over and kissed him lightly on the cheek. Then he blushed.
The two turn once again to gaze out over the Loch. Minutes later, the lass spoke again.
"Another pinney fur ye thoughts, Angus."
The lad replied, "Well, uh, I was tinkin' . . . perhaps it's aboot time fur a wee cuddle."
The lass blushed, then leaned over and cuddled him for a few seconds. Then he blushed.
The two turned turned once more to gaze out over the Loch. After a while, the lass spoke yet again.
"Another pinney fur ye thoughts, Angus."
The lad replied, "Well, uh, I was tinkin' . . . perhaps it's aboot time you let me pewt ma hand on yer leg."
The lass blushed, grab his hand and put it on her knee. Then he blushed.
Then the two turned once again to gaze out over the Loch. And the lass spoke once again.
"Another pinney fur ye thoughts, Angus."
The young lad glanced down with a furled brow.
"Well, noo," he said, "Ma thoughts are a wee bit more serious dis time."
"Really?" said the lass in a whisper . . . filled with anticipation.
"Aye," said the lad . . . nodding is head.
The lass looked away in shyness, began to blush, and bit her lip in anticipation of the ultimate request.
The lad looked at the young lass and replied, "Din'na ye tink it's aboot time ye paid me the fust three pinnies?"