Scots Poems From Hard Listening Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Epitaph for Dr Colin Milton
An honest cheil has left this warld,
Tae wirk wi him wis pleisur:
Tae student, dominie alike
The lear he shared, pure treisur
He'd ay a kindly wird tae spikk
Wi colleague or wi stranger
An niver jouked his share o darg
A scholar an arranger
O conference an buiks o wecht
He's earned his peacefu rest
He'll be sair missed amang his fiers
May he sleep weel, an blessed

Benholm's Ludge: built 1610-1616
Benholm's Ludge, theWallace Touer,
Wis biggt bi the Baron, Robert Keith.
The brither o the Earl Marischal
His family lued their waas an reef

Hard bi the Netherkirkgait plunked
Aside auld waas o Aiberdeen
This stinch three storey Touer Hoose
Luikit ootower the busy scene

An eftir Baron Robert deed
This verra hoose, original
Wis turned intae the residence
O Marischal's college principal

The years birled roon, the touer wis hame
Tae antrin merchants. A new wing
Wis addit, an the boddom cheenged:
An inn far ye'd hear siller ching

Syne oor toun cooncil tuik it ower
An wheeched this daud o history
Awa tae Seaton's Tillydrone
It stauns there, steeped in mystery

Twis Marks an Spencers gart it shift
Nae reivers cam tae ding it doon
They pyed the flittin, stane bi stane
Tae girse an widlan aa aroon

East o the Touer Hoose stauns a motte
A yirdy hillock, aa that be
Left o a castle lang forgot
Watchin the Don sweep tae the sea


Noo Benholm's Ludge, or Wallace Touer
Awytes fitiver fate will be
The Baron, wi his sword an dug
Vrocht in ae side, guairds constantly

Twa Poets' Pairts
A cast o Rabbie's Burns' skull
Is keepit at Embro Uni, a haly relic
A curio fur the nosey academic

A pressman, John McDiarmid,
Reid hett keen on phrenology
Socht tae coont its cranial bumps
Makkin a mould o the poet's creative lumps

Sax chiels alang wi helpers,
Wyted till derk, syne climmed in ower the waas
O the great Bard's mausoleum
Gaed intae the vault wi a laidder ooto sicht
The lantern happt sae fowk didnae see the licht.

McDiarmid plunkit the bard's heid
Intae a linen pyoke, an daundered up
Tae Queensberry Street,
Far the plaisterer, Fraser, held it like a cup

The cast o the poetic skull
Wis taen tae Archibald Blacklock
The surgeon, fa pit his hat on the heid,
Tae meisur the size, o Scotland's bard lang deed

Syne it wis wheeched tae Embro,
Tae Combe, a master phrenologist,
Fa joodged his cranial bumps
Shawed great creativeness

While doon in Yorkshire
A boorich o spiritualists kent as the Table Rappers
Cried up Burns tae spikk tae them in séances
Near saxty year eftir his daith
Poems fair flew ben the ether tae the believin
Deed aged 37, his sowel still screivin!

Robbers opened the tomb o the late Lord Byron
The crypt wis stoory an hett, dour sicht tae see
The meenister gaed awa hame tae takk his tea

Leavin ahin the wirk chiels cairryin spaads
Dauchlin aside the kist, swyty an scunnert
Wi rummlin kytes, ill natured noo an hungeret

Jim quo ‘Lat's hae a luik.'
‘Ye canna dae thon, ' sez his fier.
‘Jist watch me, ' Jim repons
An sae they aa drew near

Wioot as muckle's a ‘bye yer leave'
He drave his spaad doon wi the virr o a haimmer
Syne breeched a layer o leid, anither o timmer.

Byron wis bane frae elbucks tae his tae hauns
An bane frae the knees doon, Bit the lave wis perfeck
Pittin the wecht on, gaun bald, nyakkit's a pluckit hen
Bumbazin, the hale hypothick

" I've bin in the Army, '' ane o the witnesses said
" I've bin in bathhooses, I've seen aa mainner o chiels.
Bit I niver saw naethin like him. He wis hung like a cuddy."
Which pruves ayont aa doot
That even in daith, he wis a maist extraodnar body


Squatters, Scurries an Skitters
It's kent as 'adverse possession'
Squattin in ither fowk's biggins
Shoppies, hames, banks, or bookies
Plunkin yer bihoochie doon fariver ye like

It's illegal, can lead tae 6 months in the jyle
A £5,000 fine or baith.
The ainer o the biggin can evict ye
Bit maunna batter ye.

Scurries are supposed tae bide on cliffs
Ye dinna see humans bidin on cliffs
The soun wid deefen us
The win wid blaw wir coiffures inside oot

Bit the toun's on the case
Aiberdeen's brocht in a Harris hawk
Tae fleg the scurries. Three year auld,
Caad Saffron, a birdie bouncer
Caain the scurrie squatters aff their stot

Scurries hae taen tae chorin ice cream frae littlins
Reivin fish suppers ooto the hauns o pensioners
They hae nae shame ava
Pirates o the air, coorse, feathered bandits

In Scotland, peein ootside is a criminal maitter
As per Civic Government (Scotland) Act 1982,
An can lan ye a £60 fine fur skitterin in public cassies

The Gordon Highlanders statue's
A draw wi towrists an citizens as weel
The scurries makk eese o't as a birdie laavie
Even tho it's clartit wi gel tae pit the vratches aff

Could they nae pee intae the waste dumps
Or intae the sea?
Fa hisnae piddlit in the sea as bairn fin paiddlin?

Bring in mair hawks tae act as birdie polis
Tae keep oor sillery toun luikin tickety boo!

9am: Crew cut wi faded sides
Wayne Baxter, bawheid an eejit
A blether, a millennial, a barista

9.30am: unnercut wi quiff
Tarry Fletcher, a chorer,
A clype, ripped jeans, Hells' Angel
Leather jaiket, biker

10am: pony tail wi man-bun
Timmy Trubeck, fantoosh
Interior designer, a footerer
A ficherer, dressed tae the nines

10.30am: Mohawk badass cut
Jimmy Gammy, stars roon the lugs
A sparkie, fa dibbles in coke

11am: A bob. A greetin-teenie
Mona Soutar, A hackit, ugsome skyrie heidit
Claik. Wirks in a bakery sellin baps an rowies

11.30am: A buikin fur
Streaks an extensions
Donna Davies, a merried podiatrist
A nyaff wi a plookie face

12.30am: An Afro
A radge. Shirley Bludder.
Stinkin o hash, a student
Wi attitude, ahin umpteen stooshies
1.00 pm: beaded dreidlocks
A quine scart- scartin wi itch
A scunner, a minger
Scaled hauf her cup o coffee doon her breeks

The keekin glaiss is teem, shop closed fur deener.


The Spikk o the Birds
The nichtingale's sang is baith soarin an liltin
The merle is Chopin, Debussy, Vivaldi
The leverick flees Heivenly, tunefu an spunky
The mavis is noted fur giein tunes laldy

The wee Jenny Wren gies her singin fu throttle
The reidbreist brings cheer tae the cranreuch o Yule
The spurgie's a bruiser, a fechter, a vratchie
The whaup sings o hertbrakk, o keenin an dule
The peesie's a lilter, the yeitie's a tweeter
The scurries an craas are baith skeichers an roch
The gowk an the doo they perform in the widlans
Lang Sanny stauns quaet on the side o a loch

The hoolet hoots oorie, while wee Tammy Norrie
On cliff taps, the clown o the choir gies a cheep
The erne soars sae heich that his singin is seelent
While wee Willie weet feet wydes chirpy an neat


The Lichthoose Cat
The lichthoose cat is a curly cat
Its tail gaes roon an roon
Frae sclimmin the lichthoose stairs at night
Like a corkscrew, up an doon

Its een bleeze oot on the starns at night
An the ships that pass the licht
See three lamps lichtin them safely hame
An twa are the cat's een, bricht


The Scurrie
A scurrie sat like a figureheid
On the prow o a fishin boatie
Wi barnacles crustin its peintit hull
On the tap o the sea sae satty

Ochone! Cried the scurrie, fit'll I ett
Fin the coeans are teem o fish?
As he tucked intae a plastic cod
An plastic chips frae a dish


Eureka McLuke
Eureka McLuke hid a heid like a plook
That wis ready ready tae pop wi notions
For he wis a scientist steerin up
Experiments stappt wi potions

He vrocht a timmer yowe that baad
An a robot he caad Ned
That meeved tae the tap o a wee remote
Tae bring tea an toast tae bed


Mey Day Selkie
Mey Day, cockin on a rock
At Fitehills, a grey seal
Wis luikin ootower frothin waves
Giein her dock a sweel
Better than a Jacuzzi
In a private bubblin puil

The Unborns
Ane scrats at the windae o dream
Like Cathy in Whudderin Heichts
A quine wi hauntit een
Blin tae the warld's sichts

Ane's tint in the yalla fog
In the loch o unbecamin
A loon that micht hae bin braw
Flits like a ghaistly salmon


Ane is cripplit an blae
An artist, bit hauf hatched
He fell at the yett o conception
A yorlin, frae livin snatched

The unborns, far dae they bide
Nae ae thing or the tither
Dae they hing in the mists o time
Like the wauchtin o a feather?


The Waves
The waves are breengin ooto the sea
Blooterin the Moray coast
As the storm clouds roll in the thunner bowl
In the Quaich o the Heivenly Host
Fa'd be a skipper o thon wud tides
Far the waves rax up tae the sky
An the knieve o God caas the hale jung bang
Tae a wattery grave doonbye

Lucy
Lucy is a baa o purr
She likes a bird tae ett
She likes tae toss it in the air
An munch it fin it's hett


The Puppy
I am a puppy I pee in the hoose
I chaw up thecurtains, the baffies, the beddin
I am a puppy, I'm Hell on the looe
I'm nae a respector o palace or steadin

Ma mistress maun pick up ma keech in a bg
She hings it on trees, scunners birds wi the mess
Sae noo the wee cheeper are smellin wi poo
I am a pup an I couldnae care less


The Cat at Nummer Ten
The cat at nummer ten
Hauds secrets in his paws
He kens fa pyed the wallpaper
That's clappt upon the waas

The cat at nummer ten
He kens affairs o state
Like fa said fit tae faa
Fit'd on the PM's plate
The cat at nummer ten
A pass he disnae need
Gin cats could spikk he'd tell
The PM's ilkie deed

The cat at nummer ten
Is Tory fin it suits
He cheenges like the weather
An disnae gie twa hoots


The Cattie frae Nummer Siventeen
I am the cattie frae nummer siventeen
I hunt like a tiger, I live like a queen
I terrifee moosies an birdies as weel
It's jist in ma natur, nae larned in a skweel
I am the cattie frae nummer seventeen
A tabby wi cleuks an tae sleekit green een

Mary o Mary
Mary o Mary yer unca contrary
Fan will ye larn tae dae fit yer telt?
Tho ye gie braw bosies, sing like a canary
Ye've nae maths ava tae pit unner yer belt

Ye dinna like nummers the dominie sez
I'll tell ye a secret quine.neither dae I
Open yer I-phone, bit open it cannily
Ask it the answer, bit dae't on the sly


A Scots Owersett o the Poem Fareweel by Pablo Picasso
The dawn that day brakk, just as the mist o the nicht
Sank doon like a faem drappin tae shaw clear watter aheid
The Bees in the beeskepp steered aboot tae win mair hinney

It wis on thon day I luiked inno the keekin glaiss o chaunce
Oors fizzed by jist as flees wheeched unner a birsslin sun
The faem abune the crystal watter raise again
The mist o the mirk raise heich abune me, brakkin the glaiss tae smush

I drapped doon frae a ben inno the founs o scunner
It wis syne that I kent fit I'd tholed
It wis syne that I skirled 'Hey, day!
It wis noo that I crystallized
Yer pouer in the keekin glaiss o ma harns

An syne I sat in the cheer o dreichness
Wytin fur the glents o gowd an siller
Tae sheen aince mair on the keekin glaiss