Peacock (21 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.At the Mools o Mill o Tifty's Annie: 15/5/2009

The kirkyaird steps are weet wi tummelt leaves
Untimely rived frae their boughs bi a roch win
It has battered them doon bi sheer breet force an pouer

Cannily, we mount the sypin stairs
Climmin atween twa touerin, wallopin trees.

It's dark an dreich. A whiff o the warlock
Hings in the ghaistly pooch o the sere air
See..thon's the verra cross she lies aneth.
A muckle black cat sits atap her banes
An unca real an present, eildritch guairdian.

We are incomers on its stewardship.
It hisses, flicks its tail, an wheechs awa
Wi cushioned paw-lowps ower the dreepin stanes.

Since Charles the Secunt's reign this murdered lass
Has fulled her nerra bed in the cauld yird
She's nae forgotten...niver oot o mynd
She is the thorn in Fyvie's lush, green conscience
The public...nae her kinsmen...raised this merker

They sing it still, her tale, baith grim an black
A tale o luver's trysts an faither's pride
A tale o secret kisses an their price
The brither's beatin...kicks...the brukken back.

The statue o her trumpeter still stauns
Blawin his silent trumpet doon the years
Frae Fyvie's turrets. Stoor has stopped her een
He can nae Langer move his quine tae tears


2.Overheard at the Roup

Czy m6wisz po angielsku?
Do you speak English?
At least the sea haar's keepit aff sae far
Fa's the auctioneer up on the larry?
I always liked that pair of easy chairs
A real live roup is far mair fun than e-Bay
I bid for't first...bit it wis far ower dear!
Niver takk a wumman tae an auction
I'll need shore porters tae humff as this hame
That's aa the spends for this month doon the burn!
Hae you spare room fur tables in yer vannie?
Fa bocht the lobster creels? Wis't yon incomers?
We've been here 40 years....we're still called strangers
Look yonner... is thon Jeem's cousin's partner?
Her skirt's hauf up her dock...a racy hizzy
I kent he'd lose his licence fit a drooth!
Thon antique dealer's gaen an bocht the chunty!
We gave him that gold clock for years of service
I didna ken the wifie played the pianie
Thon hen coop wad be rare for Kylie's rubbits!
Is thon the time? I'm aff tae miss the traffic!
Far did ye say they're flittin? Tillydrone?


3.At Nellfield Cemetary William Alexander Memorial (1826-1894)

A corbie sat on a weather vane
Abune him glimmert a gowden cock
Ablow them baith, a cooshie doo
Croodlin ower grave an brukken crock

`Here's lauded Gibb o Gushetneuk
Mangst fermers, fleshers an fusiliers
Bakers an barbers, tailors, vrichts
Soutars, seamen an engineers
Quate company, ' the cooshie quo
Syne keekin up at the cockerel speired
`Far think ye that the deid are bound
For, in the mools, we'll share their weird? '

A pluff o win blew up frae the North
The cockerel froze, baith tail an crest
`Thon's aa the sense ye'll get frae him
He keeps his cairds close tae his chest.'
The corbie craad, 'Bit dinna fash
The sun is warm, the yews are green
It's anely humans plant their deid
Neth glaur an foggy kirkyaird steen
An gin ye dee the morn, ma doo
Yer bobbin shank grow stiff's a peg
I gie ma wird that I'll provide
Sky beerial, wi ma reid neb.'


4.The Merriege o the Trees

The trees are gaun tae a waddin
The geans are bridesmaids aa
Pink blossoms' silk confetti
Roon the weel-wishers faa

The rowan is the bonnie bride
Her hauns fu o fite flooers
The pine tree, as the meenister,
Heich in his pu'pit touers

The beech tree is the trimmlin groom
The pride o aa the wid
The birk trees are the maiden guests
Ahin their brither, hid.

An sic a reeshlin ye will hear
A soochin in the breeze
The leaves aa dauncin on the day
The merriege o the trees


5.Whaup

The whaup has drappit his feathers ower the muir
Ae meenit he raise like thistle-oo on the win
Seekin the peaty dubs o an aucient tarn
Fur wirms tae stap in the moo o his skreichin littlins
C000-eeeeee he cried, a lilt thirled tae the bens

A halflin wi a shotgun stoppit his sang
The pellets cleaved his breist like a thunnerclap
The lang-nebbit craitur drapped bi a deid dunt

Nae bein human he didna greet as he fell
Nae bein human he didna speir fit wye
Nae bein human he didna seek revenge
The bog claimed him, broon on broon,
Anely his feathers he left tae the heather brae
An the smush o fower green eggshells,
His tribal future.



6.The Pupil

Please Miss, Please Miss, Ryan Trotter's
Wirds keep lowpin aff his jotter
Maisie Duncan's got the flu
She winna cover her at-choo

Please Miss, Please Miss, I need watter
Dehydration maks me hetter
Than Mount Etna. I feel sick
It's a winner I can spikk

Please Miss, Please Miss, I'm allergic
Tae skweel blazers. Fetch the nurse quick

Please Miss, I hae Human Richts
Ye canna stop me giein frichts
Tae first year pupils. Please Miss, may
We shut the skweel? There's nae fit spray
In the gym an Willie's feet
Honk sae bad they'd gar ye greet.

Please Miss...Here's guid news for you
I'm on the skweel committee noo! ! !


7.Heilan Mary

Hair in bunches, platform soles, a mini kilt, a kipper tie
Heilan Mary at the bus stop luikin cool an unca spry
Neil McGregor's in her Maths class. Tall an derk wi a coo's lick
Makks her hauns gae weet an clammy, legs like ice-cream on a stick

Neil McGregor's jist chauncer...bit aa halflins need tae try
Tells her, if she really lued her...she wad let him aa the wye
Heilan Mary at the bus stop. Dumped. She's learned ower late
Ony dug'll sup the porridge laid afore it on a plate.


8.Rain in the Toun

Rain in the toun. Grey lift, weet macs, blaik brollies
Traffic lichts staunin dreepin in their ain reflections
Fit an on-ding! Hale watter, a richt doonpish!
Seagulls paiddle their webbed feet doon the cassies
The meen's a peppermint sookit inno a sliver
Aabody hashin hame, heids booed,
Splyerin throw dubs an skirpit bi larrie's wheels
A drookit dug, its tail atween its legs,
Nae wytin fur the Green Mannie
Gars three wee cars an a larry
Jink tae miss it.


9.The Dee, headin for Derry Lodge

The Dee is heidin for Derry Lodge
The Don is aff tae the sea
The Denburn's slinkin aneth the grun
Gien ower tae secrecy

The Dee's the airt fur dookin, an fun
The Don keeps anglers cheery
The Denburn's dwined, an creepin awa
An auld man, crined an weary.


10.Linn o Dee

The linn o Dee gangs birlin roon
An mony's the ane sleeps at its foun
Littlin, lassie laird an loon
Takkin a last lang drink o't.

Its waves gang tummlin ower pell-mell
Like deevilcks drapt frae the mou o hell
The salmon's deefent bi the knell
The glimmrin skelp, the weet o't

Like some weird cauldron frae langsyne
Its rikk wauchts up. It's best tae myne
Ae slip..ye'll aa yer sorras tyne
In the deep puil, the briest o't.

11.Yalla Yeitie: broadcast by Robbie Shepherd, (BBC Radio Scotland's Reel Blend)

Frae the green larick's showdin bough
A yalla yeitie sings
This is fit men caa Paradise
A warld o flooers an wings

A peesie treetles ower the park
Hett-fittin't ower the grun
Wee spurgies in the brierin sheugh
Takk stoor-baths in the sun

Nae birr o car, nae clack o claik
Disturbs the heathery braes
The rosit-backit Heilan coos
Mangst the sweet clover, graze

Hyne aff the Muick gaes bickerin ower
Broon steens o weety glent
An lipper-lapper clap the waves
Like bairns in merriment

0 dreichsome be the lot o fowk
Fa's lives ken nocht o this
Far Muick an Dee thegither fill
A reamin cup o bliss

Frae the green larick's showdin bough
A yalla yeitie sings
This is fit men caa Paradise
A warld o flooers an wings

12.Mannie in the Green

There wis a wee mannie fa cam frae the Green
He's seen mony sichts aa aroon Aiberdeen
He stauns near the coorts, far the sheriff sens doon
Aa the muggers an heid-bangers lowse in the toon


13.MacDonalds, Aberdeen: tune Old MacDonald's Farm

Auld Macdonald made a bap
Stapped wi meat an cheese
An aa the bairns are cryin oot
`Gies a burger please! '

Chorus
Wi a burger here an a burger there
Here a Mac there a Mac aawye a big Mac
Auld MacDonald made a bap
Slapped wi meat an cheese

Some Big Macs are fu o fat
Rinnin thick wi grease
Takk a sachet o reid sauce
An scoosh it wi a squeeze

Chorus


14.My Mither an your Mither

My mither an your mither were hingin oot their clothes
My mither gied your mither a dunt on the nose (traditional)
My mither telt your mither it's quite easy seen
Ye hae forgot it's ma day fur the green!


15.Aunty Jean

God Save my Aunty Jean
Lang may she mak ice cream
In oor back green (traditional)

Gie us a trampoline
Shades & some sun screen
Then we can sit an dream
In oor back green


16.Aberdeen in the 19th Century

Turkey Willie's sellin hens
Tuckie Jockie's pickin pooches
Hoastie Bain sells cough sweeties
Jumpin Judas prigs an mooches

Snuffle Broonie's aff his face
Eely-Betty renders whale ile
Doon in Fittie blubber yard.
Fortie Piggies jinks the jyle

Sanny's sellin sea girse mats
The Parten's makkin sarks an troosers
Ginger Blue's a gangrel chiel
Fit a heeze o fooshts an losers!


17.Hello Boys

Fa's the quines tae please the punters
Frae the docks tae Cockie Hunters?
Snuffy Ivy, Bubbly Snitch
Cove Mary, Twang...hae ye an itch
The auld professionals can scratch?
Mind yer wallet. Hide yer watch.

Feekie drinkers, sheriffs, sodjers
Virgins, merriet men an dodgers
Pye yer siller, they'll nae tell
Their moos are steeked as ticht's a shell

Cross-eed, pirn-taed, humfy-backit
Onybody's pound, they'd takk it
Democratic tae a faat
Their profession? Fit'dye-ca't....


18.Three Cheers for the Month o Mey

Three cheers for the month o Mey
Fin the rinners cast their sarks
An dugs an bairns an grannies an mas
Skail ower the daisied parks

Three cheers for the month o Mey
Like tars frae a nicht on the spree
The waves on the beach come rowin in
Frae the breengin, briny sea

Three cheers for the month o Mey
Fin a blink o blue keeks through
An the trampolines come ooto the shed
Wi the puil an the barbecue

Three cheers for the month o Mey
The trees hae their glad rags on
An aabodies' face is weirin a smile
Fin ooto the clouds, lowps sun!


19.Neil Gow's Lament for his Second Wife: taken from the actual inventory of Neil Gow's Possessions. Tune: Neil Gow

I hae a braw hame that's weel stockit wi gear
I've plenishin gaithered ower mony's a year
I hae beddin an dishes, a guid butter churn
I wad gladly owergie them should Maggie return

Oh the feather bed's saft..bit it's lanely my lane
The lowe burns less cheery noo Maggie is gaen
At ae blaw o the bellas the flame burns sae bauld
Since my luv wis taen frae me aa Inver is cauld
The wee birds are thiggin, their nests they are biggin
And tho my reef's thackit my hairt it is wae
My ingleside's drearie. Nae wird frae ma dearie
The grave stauns atween us an quaet is the clay

The stoor gaithers greyly, the oors they turn slowly
The keekin glaiss derkens, nae mistress sae gay
Preens her curls at its face wi a lauch in her mou
It's a hoose nae a hame withoot her that I lue
The spottit milk coo murns aneth the aik tree
At the wint o thon merry fit crossin the lea
An the braisse, wi nae hoosewife tae polish't an shine
Grows as dowie an cloody as vinegar wine

Wi'oot Maggie aside me it's nae gweed ava
The walkin stick stauns in its place in the haa
The cloots they are wrunkled, the bowster is torn
Ilkie day is as dreich turned as rain-draigglit corn
Wee bairnies are lauchin, young luvers are daffin
Throw widlan an park the broon hinneybees steer
Bricht mochs skiff an dover ben heather an clover
Heich simmer's aroon bit tae me aa is drear

Sweet leverocks are singin, aa throw the wids wingin
While I bide lamentin ilk rosebud seems sere
Till the day that in her nerra staa I shall creep
In the airms o ma dearie, sae gently I'll sleep


20.The City o God

There's a kirk in oor toon cad the City o God
Fit are its office oors?
Dis Gabriel man the reception desk?
Fit's its judicial pouers?

Dae angels commute there ilkie day
Frae the clouds abeen Balmedie?
I'm thinking there's nae a pension plan
Seein's aabody's deed already!

For overtime they micht freelance
Doon the herbour bars o a nicht
Tae gie roch sleepers a mug o tea
Or brakk up the antrin fecht

Is there a traffic jam each day
Frae Paradise ower tae Torry?
Div the ser-aphim dine on fresh air
Insteid o an Aitken's rowie?

There's a kirk in oor toon cad the City o God
Fit are its office oors?
Dis Gabriel man the reception desk?
Fit's its judicial pouers?


21.Charles Darwin

Charles Darwin sailed aroon the warld
Wis sea-sick nearhaun ilkie day
Sae he wis ay first aff the boat
Fin it drapped anchor in a bay.
On shoogly sea-legs aff he strode
Hale swarms o beasties stapped his pooch
An ither breets took fleg an cried
Rin: Darwin's comin on the mooch

Syne puggies skyted up the trees
An fish dived ower the herbour bar
Quick...Charlie Darwin's eftir us
Rin, or he'll plunk ye in his jar!