An old-timer in Scotland, in a bar, talking to a young man.
The Old Man says,
“Lad, look out there to the field. Do ya see that fence? Look how well it’s built. I built that fence stone by stone with me own two hands. I piled it for months.”
“But do they call me McGreggor-the-Fence-Builder? Nooo…”
Then the old man gestured at the bar.
“Look here at the bar. Do ya see how smooth it is, how intricately carved? I planed that surface down by me own achin’ back. I carved that wood with me own hard labour, for eight days.”
“But do they call me McGreggor-the-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.”
“But do they call me McGreggor-the-Pier-Builder? Nooo…”
Then the old man looks around nervously, trying to make sure no one is paying attention, and whispers,
