Wittins (32 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.Affirmation

I will spikk in ma first-born leid,
foonert f erfochan fey.
It is safe and kent,
the lowe is ayewis lichtit i the hearth,
Drookit, dowie, dreich.
I will spikk in ma first-born leid,
Far short socks hing on the line,
Far the meen an the eirde,
Are roon an fixed an hale.
Sleekit, slystery, stoory stammygaster.

I will spikk in ma first-born leid,
Glaury, glysterie, gomeril,
Afore the buik cam,
An the buckled skweelbag,
An the pen that ayewis blots,
Afore I learned that silence wis ma frien.



2.The Changelin Burn

The Linn that niver sees the sun
Cams tummlin doon unaskit
Tho dreich an dowie is its warld
Its weird's tae be disjaskit.

Roon draps o dule its watter laps
An skelps like blyther burns
Tho feint the sunbeam brichts its broo
The dowie Linn that murns.

Widdershins roon life's nerra neuks
Gyang baith thon burn an I
Yet whyles, doon fae the gowden lift
Licht pierces derkness. Shaddas shift
like wauchtin glimmers o spendrift
The fireflaucht sun sens by.



3.The Bishop's Bells

The names of the largest of the twelve old bells of Kings Chapel,
Old Aberdeen, were Trinity, Gabriel, Raphael, and Maria.
Only 'ae wee bell' survived after 1736.

Peals frae Trinity's muckle moo
Sonorous knell o Gabriel
Douce Maria's Hallelu
Ring the matins wi Raphael.

Bishop's bells in the infant toon
Sweetened the braw new college air
Caain physeecian, lawyer, priest,
Novice scholar an aa tae prayer.

Plainsang melled wi the derk merle's notes
Lavender, parsley, mint and thyme
Sweyed tae the tune frae the great bells' throats
Violet, nettle and columbine

Trinity, Gabriel, Raphael,
Maria, dung frae their cloudy bouer,
The heich and the michty...short's their reign
Gaen like girse in a puff o stoor.

Ae wee bell cam hame tae rest
Hings in its eyrie, fair bumbazed
Gaen are the cuddies, cassies, loch,
Traffic birrs far the milk-kye grazed.

Trinity, Gabriel, Raphael's
Haly threips langsyne tuik wings
An douce Maria...her sweet lay
Lies foraye in the dyew o King's.




4.School Visit of a Scots specialst


Good morning, I am Mrs X, Head Teacher.
I believe you have contacted the school wishing to visit?

What would you bring to our classes here?
What would you come to tell?

I'd bring ye a leid baith stoot an guid

Aince spak bi the king himsel. ....

Is there a need to sow this seed by stories, poems and words?

Fin Scots steps oot tae the nation's youth
It rins an sangs an girds.

Maybe a poem, once a year
Lip service to times past?

Twill come like a loon in a scarlet goon
Nae some sairmade ootcast.

But what of the cost, should we welcome it
Through Education's door?

Fit ye gie, ye get. Fit price d'ye set
On a kintry's leid an lore?

The firmament ower the birlin warld
Hauds multiple constellations
Like a wattergaw, foo rare an braw
Is the culture o different nations.


5. Buchan in Winter

Buchan. The lan is twa third sky
Heich cloods o oceans waucht ootbye
Far skurries sweem, forked swiftes sail
Galleons o haar briest gurly gale

The parks lie laigh. Nae Bens raise prods
Tae teir the face O Heiven’s brods
The deein sun bleeds crammosie
Ower derkenin steadin, dwaumin lea.

Here, winter cowps his creel o sna
Here, hop-scotch leaves blaw clean awa
Far starnies shine like wolvine een
Shards o Eternity, abeen.



6.Tellin the Beads o Mornin, Balquhidder.

Cauldly, cauldly lifts the mist,
Fae the chitterin taps o fir
Dreichly, dreichly hings the frost
Blae wi smacherie o smirr.

Hye awaa the brukken baa
0 the yowes that reenge the glen
Brakk the seelence o the warld
Birds an gangrel bodies ken.

Gurly grey as dragon's braith
Like a ghaistie fae the grun
Cauldly, cauldly lifts the mist
Tellin winter has begun.



7. Ballater Brig

Aneth the brig I skim a skippin steen.
This cauld, calm bield these antrin wirdies vrocht.
Fitfaas abeen stert saft... mid ben, growe strang
Hyne ower they dwinnle doon tae soonless nocht.

Fa cud be dowie bi this bonnie brig?
Gleg bandies glide, a wattery Strathspey,
Far preen-prick midgies link an jink an jig
An craikin dyeuks their simmer biggins thigg
An burns cam trinklin doon tae plink an play.

The geans hing thick far the stinch Sabbath bell
Cries fowk tae book an prayer inbye the kirk,
As roon Craig Coillich's shooders, clouds drift snell,
Like ermine tips on green an pleisunt birk.


'Cheepity cheep', a bobbin dipper cries.
The cheery notes frae his wee throat doonfaa
'The glen is riggit in her Sunday best
The leverick's pibroch's ringin oot oweraa.'

Aff flees the dipper on his wee quick wings.
His mapamound's a smaaer span than mine
'The glen's spreid oot its yearly feast o joy.
Simmer is short. Sit doon an drink its wine.'



8. Lament for a Bard: a tribute to Sorley Maclean

The waves o the warld, dunt at the herbor waa
A skirlin skurrie brakks frae the gurly faem
'I cairry bitter news frae the Western Isles
The tides rin wersh, at the daith o the great Maclean.'

A shag gaed slidderin doon the stony strand
Grave cloots, its wings, as blaik as the gapin moo.
An cauld, its skreich rang oot ower the ocean's mane
'The Lan o the Gael this nicht, is steeped in dool.'

'A new birk grows, ' cry the geese, ''in Hallaig's wid.
Its eildrich leaves shine gowd in the dour Deid Thraa
Its sap is the lear o the starns, an the Mapamound
The lear o the auncient Bens, an the robin, sma.'

Douce, the dun deer liftit its heid tae list
The spurgie held its wheesht in the willow tree
'Oh Raasay's beatin hairt's in a timmer kist
He his jyned the shades, in the Glen o Eternity.'

'He wis the tore, on Scotia's grizzled craig
The thrum o its clarsach, thrillin abeen the corn
In the midst o war, he'd pause tae murn a foe
Tho lesser men, gied sic puir stock the scorn.'

'Maclean wis a dauncin flame in a drift o snaa
A quaff o hinny ale in a droothy throat
A seannachie, o infinite pouer an grace
He wis the win, in the sail o Gaeldom's boat.'

The waves o the warld, sab at the herbour waa
The pulse o the Norlan, freezes in the vein
The keenin wins, rise in the coronach
'The star o the West has set. Sleep weel, Maclean.'



9. Scotched

As I stude in a Scottish street
An breathed the Scottish air
A Scottish spurgie in a tree
Come jinkin frae its lair.

It flew ootower the Scottish hames
The hooses, schule an kirk
It flew abune the Scottish lawns
The wids o aik an birk.

It flew abune the Scottish bus
That I wis set tae catch
Aside a queue o ither Scots
A mixter maxter swatch

0 ither Scots fowk like masel.
Three Chinese engineers,
A Polish driver, Sikh GP,
Five Suffolk mountaineers,

Aa stude disjaskit bi the waa
The rain drapped dreich an thick
The doonpish tuik nae tent ava
Tae makk, belief or spikk.


10. The Yalla Yeitie
Inspired by Nichole Robertson singing in celebration
of her great aunt, renowned singer Jeannie Robertson.

Doon the centuries daunced the sang,
Prood an fine, like a slaw Strathspey
Like the lacey rowan, licht an fite
The blossom afore the crammosie.

Whiles it wad reest in the antrin throat,
That gart it craik like a banshee's skirt,
Coorse, fur a bonnie tune like yon,
Tae be torn an rived like a ruggit curl.

Whiles, it wad pass frae moo tae lug,
Tae a bigsie chiel ower swallt wi pride
Tae sing the sang as it should be sung...
Fur fit's a waddin withoot a bride?

Whiles, it hirpled wi hurdies sair,
Its notes aa flat, nae twa wirds richt,
Tint in the twang o a thumpin beat
A pearl, that an oyster haps frae sicht.

On a nicht o stars in a Norlan toon,
The gangrel tune fand a siller reest,
Fin a gowden heidit quine steppt up
An lent yon sang baith breath an breist.

Syne throw the howf in the reeky toon,
The past swept by on bleedin feet,
For the sang wis cruel as it wis braa,
O a bairn an its mither, left tae greet

An ye micht hae heard a preen doonfa,
Fin Sorra chappit the door ajee,
An the singer jyned wi a quine langsyne,
Tae gie her dule tae eternity.

Oh watter in a crystal glaiss,
Is winnerfu an pure,
Bit watter in a dubby troch,
Is midden-bree, an soor.

An snaa that faas in quate wids
Lies skinklin throw the derk,
Bit snaa that f aas on steerie roads,
Is blaik's a miner's sark.

Oh I hae sat throw symphonies
Played tae a packit haa,
A yalla yeitie sang this nicht
Sae sweet, she beat them aa.

An at her shooder, grey as haar,
Raxxed back a ghaistly line,
0 singers that hae kept yon sang,
Alive, time ooto mine.

Like a smaa precious, flickerin flame,
First kinnlit bi her kin,
Her cannie hauns she cupped it roon
Tae shield it frae the win.

She didna chyne the rhythm o't,
Nor vauntie, sikk tae smore't,
An frae the yalla yeitie's moo,
Thon sang took wings an soared.




11. The Lodger


The fishin fleet sails oot alang the sea
Stars cut metallic diamonds in the nicht
the bed-sit lodger shares immensity

Wi table, •tickin clock, the open door.
The stink o fish in ilkie nook an crannie
San shauchles saftly forrit tae explore

Like a sea cave her chaumer, derkness fills.
Marooned, she is a swatch o driftwid here
Her landlord an his wife hae hidden gills.

Like twa auld crabs they squat aneth her room
Their hauns like fower hinged pincers curled ower
Their faimly Bible, black's the crack o Doom.

Their drooned son brocht them different agonies,
Fur him, a sexless bed, fur her, an ache,
His waukin thochts, a mix o psalms an sleaze.

It's hett; the open door's ower still tae craik
He's nae yet tried tae rape her, bit he will
The lodger that he watches aa the wikk.

Odysseus wad never anchor here.
The shoreline's slowly ground tae skin an bane
The seaweed rings the herbour like a bier
The fisher clachan wi the hert o stane.


12.Lyke Wake Song for my Father

Could I have dressed ye at the last
Green growe the birks o Dee
Ye'd hae bin clad in honest tweed
the rcchlin wave wins free

In yer richt haun, a heather sprig
Frae lanely Bheinn a Bhuird
An in yer left, a larick twig
Three months in snaa-bree smored

I wad hae bathed ye like a bairn
Wi muckle wae an care
Pit on yer back a linen sark
As fite's the mountain hare.

Ye wad hae bedd till beerial
A guest, in yer ain hame
I wad hae guairded ye three nichts
As stinch as ony stane

An tho the mortal banes o ye
Wi yird are happit weel
Yer marra haunts the Builg Loch
Tween Crathie an Gairnsheil.


13. Hello again Grampian

Weel, Grampian, I hae bin aff on ma travels
Hobnobbin wi a wheen nearhaun Strathyre
Bit l aye come back tae ye, Grampian.

'Mmmphm', ye say. Ye niver say muckle
'Yer affa quate, ' the fowk doon yonner telt me
Bit l'd spukken fower hale sentences aa wikk
An this, as ye ken, Grampian, is a lang langamachie
Fur ain o yer North-East bairns.


14. Parkin Lot Nummer 44: Advocates Car Park

Parkin Lot nummer 44:
Doon the steps fae the Signet Library
Weet blaik tarmac, back o the door
Waddlit ower bi cooshies Shitten on bi scurries
Wattered bi flurries
O shooers.

Parkin Lot nummer 44
Blaik as Bible Brods
A bield fur boozers
Yowled ower bi Toms an tounsers
Here lieth the mortal beens
O John Knox RIP
The VIP o mony's a history lesson
In Scottish skweels on mochie efterneens.

Parkin Lot nummer 44,
In life yer tenant
Niver brichtent the warld
Like a flicht o cockatoos
Explodin ooto a pink flamingo loch
The dreich rain piddles doon
Cairryin roon his crotch
The bree o Embro toon.

The claik o Hindi Rattles abeen his heid.
John Knox, fa wis alive, But noo is deid.


15 Icons of Scotland

I'm a furry Loch Ness Monster
Frae Bangladesh tae Brighton,
I'm up fur sale,
By road, sea, rail,
I'm a mail order item.

My name is Bonnie Prince Charlie,
I'm the tap o a shortbread tin,
I weir ma wig cause my hair fell oot,
Through drinkin ower much gin.

I'm the auld wife tenors sing o,
In Granny's Heilan hame,
Wi a pail an an ootside lavvie,
An nae twa socks the same.

I'm the stag on a whisky bottle,
I tapsalteerie tip,
Wi hooves up tae the ceilin,
Each time ye poor a nip.

I'm the Burns ye hear fin the haggis
Is piped tae the room in state,
The poem afore the ceilidh
Fin the neeps grow cauld on the plate.

I'm a clockwork Heilan dancer,
In a musical box I bide,
I'm made in Japan by a geisha's haun,
And exported warld wide.

I am the nation's brakkfast,
Hett oats in satty watter,
Wi a jeelip o milk as saft as silk,
I'm fit for a prince's platter.

I'm the reel frae a Hollywood movie,
In tecbnicolour dartit,
Mel Gibson's William Wallace
Is nae fur the faint hertit.

I am a Scottish fitba,
My colour's blue and green,
In Dundee, I am orange,
Bricht reid in Aiberdeen.

I'm a Celtic fashion nose ring,
Wi a Cairngorm stud fer yer snoot,
If ye hae a snottery pyocher,
I'd advise ye tae takk me oot.

Oh we are the Scottish icons,
Fur exiled hairt-strings ruggin,
They liked us sae weel, like a rotten's flees,
They louped on a boatie an they crossed the seas,
Wi their gear, an their siller, an their gran degrees,
Oh we are the Scottish icons,
That keep the brain drain gluggin.


16. Samhuin

The jeelin yird cracks at the neep's side
Noo firelicht zips its reid hood up its face
The cauld canal has swallaed its ain tail
Beech trees are fickle murners, seen forget
Their leaves fan now taps chitter in snaadrift
Yird's thoosan keyholes turn tae steek life in.

The clocks rin widdershins, withoot, wi'in...
Haar sypes up frae the bleary knowe's blin side
Here, thistledoon meets rock like time's spindrift
In Heptonstall, weeds warssle tae re-face
Gravestanes wi ilkie tae-haud they can get.
The blackie's sang is gagged... a mummer's tale.

The skreikin hoolet spreids her killjoy tail
A daithly fan. Some aik tree is her inn
Tae raise the stakes... a race o beaks beget.
Wheen daffie bulbs lie featureless aside
The rogue dry elm leaf uses tae efface
Its corpse's fiteness, aince it's cut adrift

There is a time tae anchor, time tae drift
Each Sizzen's ritual shrivin maun entail
A lettin gyang, the better tae ootface
The door o strippin back tae hansel in
Win like a scythe that pairts the reeds ootside
Far fitpad tod hunts aa that she can.get

Foo quickly tummelt aipple fruits forget
Their seedtime, bridlepath, their blossom drift
Noo that Ophelia's by the riverside
Sic auld wife's snell attentiveness tae detail
Her roan hauf meens turn black, her een turn in
Winter's a hag wi peat-bree on her face

The deein wabs unraivel. Frosts deface
The bricht collage o leaves. They dinna get
An artist's retrospective, gaitherin in
0 glory. Raither they beam a drift
0 bards, tae flesh a disappearin tail
Soaked wyme-back tae the warld's derk inside.

Forget the lowes o Autumn! I wid drift
Inna the side o Winter, lossin face
inbye the fyauchie seggs... A moose's tail.



16. Four signs o Samhuin

Conkers rowe like een that hae tint their sockets
The hurcheon coories inno its coat o stabs
The rotten yird cracks at the neep's faun
A blaikie's yalla tongue is steeped in dule.


17. Sea God

A God o the sea's amang us.
Dinna ye see the sheen
0 faddoms o dulse an slier cod
In the glent o his wintry een?

A God o the sea's amang us,
His wirds hae the storm's wheep
An the skelp o the satt-tailed herrin
Fished up frae the glaiss-green deep.

A God o the sea's amang us.
His hair is derk's a shag,
Frae the belt o his ice-cauld middle
A wheen fouled anchors drag.

A God o the sea's amang us,
His thunner and lichtenin rage,
Can skail wi the blast o wasterie
A skipper's hard-won wage

A God o the sea's amang us,
D'ye feel the warld showd
Like the deck o a tiltin trawler
As he wauks throw the teemin crowd?

The glitterin tide turns bonnie
As a train o skirlin gulls,
Herald their maister's comin
Wings white as drooned men's skulls.

The clouds lower blae an gurly
Fin he leaves his partan's betth
An raiks wi his icy fingers
The vertebrae o earth.

He caas tae crocanation
Wi the pouer o his wattery cleuk
An nerra thochts an nippit
In their shilpit, shargeret neuk

Takk tent fin he draws near ye,
Wersh wersh wi spindrift years
For the sea god's nets are wechty
Wi shattered hairts an tears.


18. The Seal

I am a seal at the Brig o Don
I lie in the dubs an pech
Fur an oor or twa in the autumn sun
I rowe on my kyte an flech

I skelp ma tail in the sappy glaur
As the traffic birrs on by
I am a seal at the Brig o Don
My warld is waves an sky.


19..Cleopatra

Priestess o Isis, seed o kings
Born tae a croun, by servant fanned
Frailty, her strength. She could makk aa
Boo tae the Queen o Love's command.

Rowed in a cairpet as a gift, she
Conquered the Caesar in her Ian
Made the great Roman General
Boo tae the Queen o Love's command.

Romans despised her. Fan her lord
Dee'd, as the happed assassins planned,
Beauty was eeseless. Nane wad noo
Boo tae the Queen o Love's command.

See her in barge wi gowden stern
Purple sails by her broon quines manned,
Perfumed - noo wad Mark Antony
Boo tae the Queen o Love's command.

Wakken the asp an milk its fang
Hither, Anubis, pairt the san
Open the yetts nae mortal sees
Boo tae the Queen o Love's command.


20.Telling the Bees
for the late George McConnach, Birse, bee keeper and farmer

I kent a gairden aince, perfumed an bra
Simmer flooers wauchtit there, heich as the wa

Bees bizzed frae skepps tae Ben, ryped heather bell
Ferryin sweetness frae brae heid tae cell.

I kent the maister fa hairsted their caimbs
Creamy wax chaumers wi gold in their wames

Aa throw the winter, he kept the hive hale
Syne in the simmer he brewed hinney ale

Toonsers supped seerip. His bairns on a plate
Spreid rich dreepin nectar on breid that they ate

Naebody telt them, wyce craiturs, bees kent
Fit the weeds niver howked roon the blawn roses meant

Sic a deep seelence! Nae rikk in the lum
Frae his winged servents, nae saft eident hum

Nae need tae spear wis he cauld in his lair
Teet in the gairden. The bee skepps war bare


21.On a Halflin's Suicide

Gowden-tapped like a settin sun
A sinsheen smile fae the daylicht's pairtit
white limbs happt in the clarty grun
A life is ower that barely sterted.

Passed through schule on invisible feet
Gang-lands nae fur the tender hairtit
A wauk ben thorns tae the douce, the sweet
A life is ower that barely sterted

Teachers canna recall his face
Ane that wisna wi malice mertit
Kept his coonsil an kent his place
A life is ower that barely sterted

Ae step forrit an twa steps back
Future's cauldrife fin hope's desertit
Easy tae jink the warld wi smack
A life is ower that barely sterted

Smack takks geniis ooto the box
Reason's rocky in seas unchertit
Deevilicks lowp through the stinchest locks
A life is ower that barely sterted


Grace an youth war his only jewels
Dreich's the wecht fin the kist that's cairtit
Carries a laddie inno the mools
A life is ower that barely sterted.


22. Traffic Jam

Fit's adee? Fit's adee?
This bus hisnae moved since hauf past three!
There's a taxi o quines in ballet frocks,
There's a steer o fishermen up fae the docks,
There's a pipe band marchin, twenty loons
Wi a drummer in leopard skins duntin the tunes
There's seagulls skreichin ower the melee;
Far is the haud up? Fit's adee?


23.The Ootin

Iona, Shona, Rhona, wi Andrew, Fergus, Neil
Gaed up tae tour the Heilans wi a labster in a creel

Ben McDuih's yeti, ett Fergus fir a snack.
The Carlin-wife o Morven threw Angus doon a crack.

Iona, syne, an Rhona, war cowpit in a gale,
An the monster kent as Nessie swallaed
Neil an Shona hale

Sae dinna book yer holidays far ghaists an monsters heeze
Yer safer in the Congo than in the Hebrides.


24.The Bat

The Bat's a midnicht falderal,
An upside doon asleep.
Umbrella at a funeral,
Hung in the kirk, tae dreep.

Oh blin-eed, blearie, fleein moose,
We canna aa be bonnie,
Bit fin the Lord dispensed guid looks,
He didna gie ye ony!


25.The Tiger

Let's nae tell a sowl, but oor hoose has a tiger
Wi' a lowe, an a skirl, an a killer inside her

She dines upon heroes. She teirs at her cages
She's restless in taxis. She r.ins an she rages

She's cweel when she raxxes her cleuks on the mat
Let's nae tell a sowl, but oor tiger's a cat!


26. Ghost Story heard at a Bus Stop

My ma jist canna sleep if that cat's oot.
Fit cat? Ye hinna gotta cat?
Ye hae niver seen it. It's nae real.
Ma took a feelie, last time it cam oot.
I'm sayin, a richt mentler. Sic a brute!
Fit happened? Dis it scrat, this muckle cat?
Na na, than divil's far ower fly fur that.
It's jist a shadda. Creeps sae quately,
Ma bides awake tae see fit it'll dee.
Weel, tell me then. Dis it sproot wings an flee?
Na na. It's jist a shadda. It's nae real.
That maks it fearier, because ye feel
It could dee onythin, a shadda, loose like that.
I dinna unnerstaun. Ye hinna gotta cat?
Bit we've its shadda creepin roon the mat!


27. At Ghandi's Shrine Raj Ghat

Efter the thrang derk alleys
The stobshie o the bazaars
The thunnerin larrie.s
The goat that stauns an bleats

Efter the buyin an bribin
The priggin, swickin venders
The sto•or an the bumbazement
0 rickshaws' dirdin seats

Efter the bamboo scaff oldin:
The saris cairtin. cement
The cricket, the polo,
The staas o baccy an tre.ats

Efter the wechfy bullocks
The cobras wyvin an dauncin
The glaur o the gutters
The fowk fa sleep on the streets

Here is Delhi's •oasis
Here, far the shade is sweet
The verra girse cried 'Ghandi',
The chiel fa cowpit an em: pire
Walkin in wyes o peace on twa bare feet


28. Jannie

I stride atween the skirlin bairns
Fechts stop. An argy-bargy dwines.
I am the jannie. My wird's law
A schuleyaird god in my size nines.
The teachers gie them Science, Art
Gymnastics, cookin, the three R's
A wum: min's wye... an ourglaiss day
I steek their neives, their playgrun wars.

The menfowk that they see at hame
Pairt-timers, dossers on the mooch
Heich upon hash, or booze, or baith
Their haun stapt in their.mither's pooch
Is aa some ken, I tilt the scales
Ay in command o my five senses
I teach them men hae qualities
That raxx ower past an present tenses
like Janus, back in auncient Rome
I guaird their warld. Nane pass me by
That seeks tae herm, misfit or vex
The littlins in my territory.
The teachers hae their tests tae set
They educate, a wechty dreel
I patch up windaes, see fair play
1 keep them warm, an safe an weel.



29.Salute tae a Bonnie Fechter, 5lst Highland Division
In Memoriam Hamish Henderson

Fareweet tho editorials
Tell yer fame ower city an lea
Sangs are yer best memorials
Liltin an lowpin fu brawly!
Fareweel tae mirth an jollity
Scholar-sodjer poet sae braw
Fareweel tae grace and gallantry
Scotland's the puirer withoot ye

Tales ye tuik fae quine an seannachie
Airs fae trench, fae bothy an aa
Screivin •sangs o fire an honesty
Best bloody sangster in Scotia!

Fareweet here comes the ferryman
Weel ye'll ken the ranks that ye'll meet
There's nocht tae pack or cairry, man
Takk. the lang rest o the wearie
Fareweel the squaddies' champion
Bonnie fechter, richter o wrangs
Jynin yer auld battalion
Stinch in the pages o history

Tinker Gaelic, Cant or Romany
Roon Blairgowrie chasin the tune
Rypin Jeannie's buss o balladry
Berries ye'd hairvest sae cheerie

Fareweet tho editorials
Tell yer fame ower city an lea
Sangs are yer best memorials
Liltin an lowpin fu. brawly!


Fareweel tae mirth an jollity
Scholar-sodjer poet sae braw
Fareweel tae grace and gallantry
Scotland's the puirer withoot ye

Praises cudna bribe the like o ye
Siller coin nur braw O.B.E.
Comrade Captain, bard o quality
Makkar o Freedom come all ye

Fareweel, here comes the ferryman
Weel ye'll ken the ranks that ye'll meet
There's nocht tae pack or cairry, man
Takk. the lang rest o the wearie
Fareweel the squaddies' champion
Bonnie fechter, richter o wrangs
jynin yer auld battalion
Stinch in the paaes o history

Bombed an tombed an shelled the infantry
Some micht live bit ithers maun dee
Fa takks the human invent'ry
In the Derk Valley sae drearie?

Fareweel, tho editorials
Tell yer fame ower city an lea
Sangs are yer best memorials
Liltin an lowpin fu brawly!
Fareweel tae mirth an jollity
Scholar-sodjer poet sae braw
Fareweel tae grace and gallantry
Scotland's the puirer withoot ye.


30.Chez Nous

I didnae cheenge the front. Same cooncil door
The gairden's minimal... girse, ivy, trees
Deliberately a soss, sae nae tae tease
The burglar inno sikkin tae explore.

Ten years syne it luikkit ower the river.
Reid tods slipped like sodjers aff the leash;
Noo, supermerket chynes hae found their niche
Health Club's arrived, a bigsie biggit neebour.

The traffic thunners forrit, thunners back
My bairns left, for traivel, wurk or lover
The hoose sank inno cauld an disregard.
Noo ane's returned, his life in ae rucksack.
Tae soothe wioot the lullaby is hard.


31. Tempus Fugit (ii)

Foxglove hings its dwinin heid
Blossoms wauchtin aff the tree
Nettles fiery in the sheugh
Aathing fair or foul maun dee.

Here's a ram in Simmer's warmth
Jaw an backbeen caad ajee
Een are teem o starnie-licht
Aathing fair or foul maun dee.

Jade bluebottle, drappit gem
Bonnie tho her colours be
Flicht will fail an wing will fauld
Aathing fair or fonl maun dee.

Mavis wheeplin in the birk
Mistress o sweet minstrelsie
Even sic a sang will eyn
Aathing fair or foul maun dee.

See the chunnerin kirk Yaird wirm
Crawlin ben the blackie's ee
Dwinin as the sizzens birl
Aathing fair or foul maun dee.


32.The Gift

This'll be yours, an yours alane
Bairn: the gift that we gie's yer name
Weir it proodly an weir it weel
This'll be yours fin ye stert the schule

It'll be yours fin yer auld an gray
At wark, at study, wi friens at play.
Fin yer grown an ye takk a wife
Wi it she'll pledge tae share yer life

An fin ye lie in yer timmer sark
Yer name'll follae ye tae the Dark
The gift that laists fin ithers hae gaen,
Bairn, the gift that we gie's yer name.