The Rabbit Man: Scots Poems Poem by Sheena Blackhall

A Deeside Loon: Wizard of the North: John Anderson(1814-1874)
John Anderson wis born, a cottar loon
Kincardine o'Neil it wis his place o birth
An fin a lad, he wirkit wi a smith
There, larnt mechanics faist, a lad o wirth

He stertit his career in Scottie's Troupe
Performer in a Penny Theatre show
In Aiberdeen, an in the Penny Rattler
Far drama, dauncin, sangs wir aa the go

Syne in the Theatre Royal, Marischal Street
Billed as a‘slecht-o-haun'performin act
He'd traivel up Deeside fur leisur time
An try his tricks, the locals tae distract

At Potarch brig, he watched peat cutters stack
Their peats. Hebrukk a cuttit peat in twa
Oot drappt a sixpence, neist, a guinea fell
Bumbazed, they reezed the wizard oot tae aa

In Forres, tho, Professor Anderson,
The Wizard, wis thocht linkit wi the deil
He ludged there wi a cailleach, fa renaged
An swore he guffed o brimsteen. Tae the jyle
Puir John wis taen. The polis ordered him
Tae cam oot throw the keyhole. Fit a styte!
A nicht inbye the cells fair scunnered him
Hid aa the fowk in Forres toun gaen gyte?

His maisterpiece it wis the great gun trick
He'd catch a fired bullet in his teeth
A rabbit he cud pu oot frae his hat
Sic winners tae the future he'd bequeath!

Bit whyles in Aiberdeen, he still wid act
He'd be Rob Roy, or betimes Wannerin Steenie
Sax fit in heicht he wis a sonsie chiel
At conjurin he wis as gleg's a genii
He traivelled aa the warld, a stammygaster
(At the Antipodes fin Gowd wis fand)
His bills wir postit on the Pyramids
Weel kent in mony's the hyne aff furreign lan

His Inexhaustible Bottle, couldproduce
Near ony drink the audience micht sikk
His biggest rival wis the French Houdini
Fa wis the best? Baith chiels the ee could swick!

The Wizard sired a growin faimily
Baith in an ooto wadlock, he supportit
He made an tint twa fortunes in his time
Baith caused bi fire it later wis reportit

The Glega City Theatre,Glesga Green
The Covent Gairden Theatre, Lunnon toun
The Theatre Royal, aa fell tae the flame
Aa brocht the Wizard's siller tummlin doon

A weel kent Lunnon Magazine The Era,
It testifeed he could unpyke aa locks,
Tae fish oot unca ferlies frae their kisties
Sic like as tickin gowden westcoat clocks

He screived a braw Haun-buik o Natural Magic
Stappt wi a rowth o fey experiments
The Conjuror's Table, Gun Trick, cairds an ruses
Self-Balancin Pail, an ither rudiments

Saxty year auld, this gran maister o magic
In Darlington, clean foonert, dwined awa
An wi his hinmaist wirds, he speirt his family
That Aiberdeen should be his hinmaist staa

St Nicholas's kirkyaird's green an leafy
The Wizard's wi his mither in the toun
An thonner cam the winnerfu Houdini
Tae pye respecks this braw Deeside loon.


The Brukken Hairt
A brukken hairt's a thing hauf-deid
Ghaistie's are sair fin brocht tae myne
Yet still it dunts an thrums wi bluid
A mither's son is hard tae tyne


The road ma laddie wauked wis teuch
Ghaistie's are sairly brocht tae myne
An dragons sleepit in the sheugh
A mither's son is hard tae tyne

His bouer wis shilpit, sma an dour
Ghaistie's are sairly brocht tae myne
There he kent mony's a lanely oor
A mither's son is hard tae tyne

If there be hope, far there is nane
Ghaistie's are sairly brocht tae myne
He'll ken the flooers in Heiven's domain
A mither's son is hard tae tyne


Blin Drift
Whyles it strikks in the smaa oors
A widdendreme frae ae nicht's coorse mishanter

Yuletide, a veesit tae uplan kin
Shmoodricks o snaa, furled doucely doon
Saft an slaw an bonnie, on roads aa bare o ice

Three month auld, oor babby loon
Asleep in his cairry-cot, on the car's back seat

We stertit oot, his da, me, an hissel
Wee angel face, a skiffin o hair on his heid
His moo like a swete, weet, gean, an innocent

An aa gaed fine till the boddom o the Clash
Thon steely climm up the brae o a stormy hill

Blin drift happit the winscreen, a dauncin dervish
Smored the lan, till dykes drapt ooto sicht
Wheels sliddered ower the road, gaed wud an reckless
Ma fingers on the steerin wheel grippt fite
The antrin tree wis skeletal, bane fite

Terrifeed, I won tae a lanely staunin shop
The ainer, consarned that ony gype should drive
On sic a night, wi sic a teenie bairn
Brocht oot a blanket, a hett watter bottle
Tae keep him warm until we reached the clachan

An I myndt on a fermer chiel on a night like thon
Wauked roon an roon his park, nae fifty yairds frae hame
Roon an roon till he drappit, fair ferfochan,
Deein o cauld, that seepit inno his skin

The air ootbye the car, wis cauldrife's a morgue
Sic a dweeble thing, the line atween life an daith
Sae easy snuffed oot like a caunleflame

Lang eftir we sat bi the lowe, warmed wi tea an a dram
Safe an snod inbye oor destination
Inbye I keepit chitterin, terror fleggit


Arithmophobia
Fin I wis wee, nummers were like:
A gob in the ee
As fearie as wabs in yer face
As sherp as a teacher's nail rugged doon a blackboord
As jeelin's a dentist's drill
As unchauncy's a tickin bomb
As painfu's a noose on a gibbet
As coorse as stingin hornets
As ugsome's a byle
Addin it aa up
Nummers hae aywis left me
Withoot ae shank tae staun on


In the Gairden
Blackie stots ower girse, powks fur a wirm
A bumbee gathers nectar frae a flooer
Spurgiescause a steer, they cheep an girn
Gallus craws skreich lood at ilkie oor
Doos curmuran blether in the tree
A craw cocks on a lamppost, blaik an dour
Ower fower lawns a dug bowfs nestily
Frae dockens ten blaik eemocks treetle aff
An Ettercap wyves moosewabs bonnily
A kittlin chases birdies, the wee nyaff
A hairy oobit wummles frae a leaf
Scurries skelloch heich, syne flichter aff
An aa the while the washin on the line
Wallop an skelp, aneth the hett sunshine

Jenny lang legs wauchts on skinny shanks
Gowans dwaun alang the simmer day
A rubbit pammersoot on furry flanks
An aa the while a mavis threips her lay
A pyot cams stravaigin like a laird
Hornygollachs creep roon rowan spray
A forkietale rins sleekit ower the yird
A heeze o pee the beds bleeze ooto like gowd
A stirlin cercles like a fleein gird
An aa the while, the wanderin willies showd
The gairden craiturs dinna staun in queues
The sun plays teetie-bo ahin a cloud
Aa's blythe in June. The girse is thrang wi steer
The hinneypot that's Mither Natur's sphere


Ye're a Lang Time Deid
Ye've niver swam the Barrier Reef?
Takk a plane an breenge aheid!
Dinna lat a meenit waste
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Ye'd like tae bungee lowp in France?
Grip the meenit ticht indeed!
Takk the ferry ower the waves
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Ye fancy somebody frae afar?
Grab the thrissle bi the heid!
Tell them straicht, ye've nocht tae loss
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Ye'd like tae sclimm Mount Everest?
Crack on, brither withoot dreid!
Tho ye skyte doon on yer dowp
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Larn Swahili, fencin, chess
Live, afore ye rin tae seed!
There's nae study in the mools
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Wheesht…is thon the doctor spikkin?
Cock yer lugs. Ye maun takk heed
Aathin's best in moderation
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Atheist? Agnostic? Theist?
Explore ilkie different creed
Fin the ane that suits yersel
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Dinna claik ill aboot ithers
Gossip spukken's quick tae spreid
Seelence is the kindest wye
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Gie yersel the gift o quaet
Life is mair than cheese an breid
Try a whylie still an calm
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Spent a lifetime gaitherin gear?
Luv is better far than greed
There's nae pooches in a shroud
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Fowk makk judgements on yer spikk?
Be prood o the guid Scots leid!
Sune yer tongue'll stop its claik
Remember, ye're a lang time deid

Like the girse oor time is shortsome
Rose, an queen, dictator, weed
Fame's a leaf that dwines an faas
Remember, ye're a lang time deid


Scots Owersetts o Poems bi Miroslav Holub

Dwaums
They sook man's sap
as mune the dyew.
A towe growes straicht
frae the croon o the heid.
A blaik swan hatches
frae a stane
An a heeze o angels in the lift
is takkin an evenin class
on the skid pan.

I dwaum, sae I dwaum.
I dwaum
that three times three is nine,
that the richt-haun
rule hauds;
an fin the circus leaves
the trampit grun will
aince mair owergrowe wi girse.

Aye, girse.
Ayont doot girse.
Jist girse.


Creative Screivin
On the faist train tae Vienna
she screives in her diary
notes aboot Rome an Naples.

Ink merks like parthenogenetic aphids,
pages like bluid straiks
o hamecamin doos.

She is alane, gray, restored,
a Leda lang efter the swan's awa,
Odysseus retired at Lotophagitis.

Back hame, in Maryland,
the jotter will be beeriet
in the typical drawer,
amang the yallowed luv letters,
amang the bairnies' hair curls,
amang the dwined adult flooers,

nearhaun the bowster far the libbit cat dwaums
whylst Mahler's foraye foraye foraye
smores in the green waapaper.

It's her message tae pictured wee sons;
It's her memmership in the club
o Swifts, Goethes, Rimbauds, Horatiuses an
deidwatch clockers.

It's her monument ootlaistin bronze,
five-dimensional fack, the hinmaist scrattin
o auncient man on reindeer bane,

the hinmaist drap
o the dreepin sowel
afore it turns tae rikk.


The Hurtit
They bring us brukken fingers,
hain it, doctor.
They bring brunt-oot een,
houndit hoolets o hairts,
they bring a hunner fite corpses,
a hunner reid corpses,
a hunner blaik corpses,
hain it, doctor,
on the ashets o ambulances they bring
the wudness o bluid,
the skirl o flesh,
the seelence o birsslin,
hain it, doctor.
An fin we're shewin
inch efter inch,
nicht efter nicht,
nerve tae nerve,
muscle tae muscle,
een tae sicht,
they bring in
even langer daggers,
even mair fearie bombs,
even mair braw victories,
gypes.

Scots Owersetts o Poems biUmberto Saba 1883-1957

Yule
It's nicht, a wersh Yule. Ye heist
the curtains a thochtie an teet oot. Yer hair
blaws wudly; blitheness o a suddenty
opens wide yer blaik een,
an fit ye saw—it wis a pictur
o the warld's eyn—comforts
yer inmairst hairt, warms an calms it.
A chiel wanners oot on a loch
o ice, unner a cruikit streetlicht.


Poetry
It's as gin fur a chiel blootered bi the win,
blinn't bi snaa—aa roon him an arctic
mishanter lays intae the toun—
a yett opens alang a waa.
He gaes in. He fins again a leevin couthieness,
the sweteness o a warm neuk. A tint
nemme plunks a kiss on
blythe faces that he hisnae seen
bar obscure in fearie dwaams.

He gaes back
tae the street, an the street, as weel, isnae the same.
Fine weather his cam back, eident hauns
brakk up the ice, the blae reappears
in the lift an in his hairt. An he thinks
that ilkie extreme o coorseness foretells a gweed.


Yule Noon
At thon meenit fin I wis still blythe
(God forgie thon muckle an awfu
wird)fit near cheenged ma blytheness
tae greets? Ye'll say: ‘Some
bonnie craitur gaun by
fa smiled at ye'. Na, a balloon,
a blae balloon, wauchtin
ben the blae lift, wi the natural
air niver sae bricht in the cauld
caller noon o a yule day.
The lift wi a wee fite cloud,
an the windaes alicht in the sun,
an a smachrie o rikk frae a lum or twa,
an abune thon ferlies, divine
ferlies, the baa that escapit a bairn's
clumsy haun (o a certainty he grat,
in the mids o the crowd, ooto wae,
his unca wae)atween the Stock
Excheenge an the Coffee Hoose, far
I sat, caller-eed, admirin his prize,
ayont the glaiss, noo heistin, an noo faain.


Fitethorn
In Merch, in the street
wi the fountain,
the busse his waukent
aa fite, bit it's nae sna
thon, it's fite thorn
chitterin at the first
sough o daybrakk.


Oor Meenit
Dae ye ken a bonnier time o day
than gloamin? Mair
bonnie an less lued? Thon oor
afore the sacred oors o idleness;
the oor fin wirk is strang, an a heeze
o fowk are seen on the streets; .
ower the squar heeze o the hooses,
a shadowymeen, ane ye can scarce
makk oot in the quaet air.
It's the time ye leave the kintraside
tae takk blytheness in yer lued toun,
frae the gulf tae the Bens
puckles o aspecks in its bonnieness jyne;
the oor fin ma life in flood rins
like a river tae the sea;
an ma thochts, the faist tramp
o the fowk, the wirkman atap
his heich laidder, the loon racin tae lowp
on his rummlin cairt, aa seem
tae jeel in the act, a this steer
takks the luik o bein still.
It's a gran hoor, the oor that best
atteyns oor time o hairst

.............................................

Oor Willy's Chipper
Oor Willy's chipper o Aiberdeen
Is a chippy o heich renoun
Dis Willie wink fin fish frae the drink
Becam suppers in Aiberdeen toun?

It's anely the finest o quality
Cod, Haddock, Plaice, fished frae the gale
Willy's fish, chips an vinegar melts in yer mou
It's sae testy ye'd swallae it hale


Sushi
Dae ye really ken fowk fa like sushi,
Raw fish that is slimy an fooshty?
It lies on the plate
Like a jeely in state
Till a seagull cams doon… it gaes whooshty!


The Novice Husband, Mr Spurgie
A spurgie attemptin tae breed
Kept stottin atap his wife's heid
Nae eggs big or smaa
Jist a migraine or twa
An his efforts aa rinnin tae seed


The Doo Poo Sonata
POOOOOOO- - - - -PPPP
OOOOOOOO- - - - -PLOP
PL PL PL PL PL- - - - -0000000
LLLLLLOP - - - - - - - LLLLLLLLOP
PL…..OOOOOO……OP.OP.OP.OP.OP


Figgy
A skittish wee flooer caad Figgy
Fa wis skinny in stature as Twiggy
Fell in luve wi a slug
Fa wis nesty an smug
An he ett her aa up like a piggy


The King o the Sea
Slit the belly, cut aff the tail
Strip the scales wi the back o a knife
Rug ootthe guts, the roe the gills
The haute cuisine o piscine life!

A fisherman cast his net in the sea
He drew frae the watter a michty Cod
Weirin a croun atap his heid
The best o the fishies, their King, their God

The fisherman quo: ‘I'll sell ye sure! '
The King cried sair‘Let me gae free! '
Bit the fisherman said, ‘Some epicure
Fur a slice o ye wid siller gie! '

The Kingwis selt at Aiberdeen
An a hunner chippies aroon the coast
Rowed in paper, they dished him up
Wichips an pickles at a fair cost

An still at nicht ye can hear his ghaist
Priggin, ‘O fisherman set me free! '
An aa that's heard is a rummle an splash
An sweesh o waves in the satty sea