11 Poems In Scots (Comings & Goings) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Warld's Eyn
1977. Test o the Space Shuttle Enterprise
The Sex Pistols skreiched their styte.
Morph bauchled ben the screen
Reid Rum won the Gran National again
Star Wars Sci Fi premiered in picture hooses
Elvis Presley deed. The warld murned.
Christine Eadie an Helen Scott gaed oot on the toon
Aged 17, a quines' nicht oot in Embro
Last seen leevin inbye the Warld's Eyn Howff

Waukers fand Christine's corp in Gosford Bay
Nyakkit. Helen, sax mile awa in a stibble corn park
Baith quines hid bin threwshed, gagged,
Bun, thrappled an raped
Nae attempt wis made tae hap their corpses.

26 years gaed by. The programme Crimewatch
Tuik an anonymous caa, fresh evidence
Hid bin fand. A wheen years eftir
The quarry wis finally catched.

Angus Sinclair, let aff aince, retried
Fand guilty, will be free fin he's 106
Facin a heicher coort than mortal judges

Eftir the Battle o Flodden, Embro bigged a waa.
The warld ootbye thon waa wis the Warld's Eyn
Twa teenage quines discovered the truith o this
Fin ae nicht's innocent pleisur turned tae horror

Twa Scots Owersetts o Sangs frae the Muckle Furth frae Inglis translations bi Thomas A. McKean, Director of the Elphinstone Institute

Warlds Apairt
I haud ye in ma airms, an thon is fan it sterts
I sikk faith in yer kiss, an peace inbye yer hairt
I taste life on yer mou I lay hauns on yer hurts
Bit luikin in yer een, I ken we're warlds apairt

Far the hyne oceans sing an raxx their swallin tides
In this dry tribbled airt yer brawness it abides
Doon frae the muckle Ben, the road it rowes tae derk
Neth Allah's blessèd rain, I ken we're warlds apairt

Ower muckle, nae eneuch, is fit Truth seems eenoo
Haive Truth itsel awa, its in a kissin mou
Yer skin upon ma skin, oor beatin hairt tae hairt
Life walcoms us inbye, the Deid teir us apairt

We'll lat bluid bigg a brig frae Bens up tae the starns
We'll tryst upon the ridge, atween oor warlds apairt
We've got this meenit yet, afore its stoor an derk
Let's takk the gift o Luv, the gift that's frae the hairt


Tae the Wud Tarek River
On a heich bank o the Tarek x2
We Cossacks brocht 10,000 cuddies
An the park wis happt an the bank wis happt
Wi thoosans o knifed an shot bodies

Chorus
We lue life brithers x2
There's nae wae whyle we're wi oor chieftain
We lue life brithers x2
There's nae wae whyle we're wi oor chieftain

An the first rifle shot x2
An the first shot hurtit ma shelt
An the neist rifle shot x2
Wi the neist rifle shot I wis killt

Ma wife will lament me x2
She'll mairry again an forget me
I'll anely miss freedom, freedom an fecht
Ma auld mither dear an ma cuddy


The Gloveress
Calf skin gloves haun stitched wi pure silk threid
Years I trained tae dae this bluidy job
Makkin gloves fur spyled wealthy weemin

Set tae the trade frae bairnhood, I wis
The wages puir. Whyles, I machine the gloves
Whyles line them, cannie-like wi mappie's fur

Pernickity customers micht order buttons
Or silk inbye, an fancy falderals
Thon's fikey wirk. Oors o a thankless darg
Saxteen oors a day, wi a pittance ower
Tae pye fur coal, rent, meat, an caunle-licht
The fowk fa weir the gloves, the great an gweed
Fund kirks an theatres, gyang tae pairties, races

Ma sister leaves the hoose bi owl-licht
Tae sell hersel in the streets, a common hoor
Or we wid sterve, oor bairns wad dee o hunger

Ma mither takks in washin. Hauns reid raw,
Reid raw an hackit. Nae fine gloves fur her.


The King o the Scottish Gyspies: William Billy Marshall 1672-1792
King Billy cud sing auld ballads lang
Cud fecht like a wolf, wis slee an thrawn
Jess Smith, telt fowk that the traivellin clan
Cam whaur a feather is born, seeds blawn

Oh the Romas' feet are restless kind
The Roma's spikk is kent bi the fyew
The Roma lue the wyes o the wids
The siller glents on the mornin dyew

Bill wore the skin o a lamprey eel
Bun roon his wrist in the boxin ring
He'd howk at een, he'd club, he'd kick
Like a tyke wi a ratten, the Randie king

He'd seventeen wives, this dun-skinn't cyard
An bairns as mony's the seeds o thrissles
He'd served wi Marlborough, sodjer an tar
Wis a fu o blether's a kist o fussles

The Faas, the Baileys, the Youngs, the Taits
Whariver the gangrel bodies gaed
Wi their waggons, their shelts, their tinkler tools
War gweed tae the fowk fa pyed their trade

King Billy levelled the laird's lang dykes
That held the watter back frae the puir
The Royal fences he cowped as weel
Syne meltit awa tae wid an muir
His banes lie deep in Kikcudbright kirk
His stane has horns o the Zodiac ram
Crossed speens..may the Roma ne'er ken wint
An coins, a meal for a hungeret man

Oh the Romas' feet are restless kind
The Roma's spikk is kent bi the fyew
The Roma lue the wyes o the wids
The siller glents on the mornin dyew

Reid Licht Embro
The night brings hoors an hoolets oot
The howfs are hotchin, promise pleisur
For houghmagandie there's nae doot
Some wirk the streets tae gaither trisur
Bit fa's the prey an fa's the raptor?
Quine wi nails crammosie reid
Hoor or her pye-by-oor captor
Wi murderous thochts, whyles in his heid?


Spaewife-Speirin
Spaewife, oh spaewife, fit weird's left tae dree?
The plaidie unraivels, as faist as it's vrocht
Will the yet forrit be snecked or ajee
Mishanters cam readily, unseen, unsocht

Spaewife, oh spaewife, I carena a whit
Ma banes are turned bruckle an fain wad I flit
Spaewife oh spaewife, fin this warld's ahin
Wll my laddie be staunin tae welcome me in?

Spaewife oh spaewife, I'd drap like the corn
Gin there's a here-eftir, I'd leave life the morn



The Alternative Tourist Tour of Properties Owned by Nyaffs
In Aiberdeen takk a turn roon a seaside High Rise
Check oot the guff o pee in the lift, the brukken intercom
The graffiti scrawled ower the waas on the secunt storey
Fur the ultimate frisson (by-passin the stank o fish comin aff the sea)
Step ower the druggies jackin up on the stairs
Dinna pet the pit bull on the landin
Its teeth are mingin. Its temper's legendary

In Dundee, veesit anither colourful schemie
Step throw the yett o flat nummer thirtythree
The guide weirs leopard skin tights
Is perma-tanned like an orange
She luiks like a chanty-rassler on a spree
Dinna feed her fartin cat
It'll gie ye flechs an gob on ye
Makk sure yer inoculatit fur dysentry

Embro's sublet aff frae a close is a must
Takk tent o the gairden's lanscapin
The rippit sofa stukken wi gaffa tape
Luik on the scene wi envy, Mr Paul Getty
The brukken Ikea press, mangst the nettles an dug keech
The peelin plaster gnomes, an the terracotta warrior
Minus twa airms like the Venus de Milo
Chappt aff bi a minger wallopin a machete

In Glesgae, step inno an up-mairket semi-detached
The guide here, Fat Shuggy, is modelling his favourite gear
A mankini aneth a peenie wi plastic boobs
Based o the paps o ane o thon Hollywid stars
Check oot the thatch o his chest hair
Ye cud beery Govan in it. His bling can be seen frae Mars
Inverness features a bijou but-n-ben
Fur European wirkers. Nine o them share a bed
In shifts o three. The bath has twinty nine tidemerks
The loo boasts a crinoline dallie ower the lavvie roll
There's an Elvis Presley lampstaun wintin a shade
The ashtray is reamin wi tabbies. The carpet's clarty.
Like yer waukin on superglue.The doorbell chimes ‘Amarillo'
Jist for you.Midgies makk up the protein in the soup
The plastic flooers in the windae hae brewer's droop


Whuppity Stoory as Mither
(Whuppity Stoory is Scotland's Rumpelstitlskin)

Whuppity Stoory's bin spied in Mamas & Papas
Buyin babby claes fur a new-born littlin

Adoption agencies wisnae sympathetic because:
She wis three hunner year auld
She wis a puir role model
She wis a caird-cairryin pagan
She keepit puddocks in the kitchie
She cudnae answer the questions on British ceetizenship
(Bar aa the info aboot Jamie Saxth)

The fertility gadgie widnae treat her because:
Her ovaries wir crined as hizzlenuts
Her wyme wis a howked-oot Halloween neep
Her titties wis dry as the Kalahari desert
It wid be like sawin seeds in a teem chunty

Bit she kent hersel she'd be a braw mither
Better than thon girnin gype wi the seek grumphie
Sae easy tricked intae giein the bairn awa
Whuppity story dreamt that herself an the laddie
Wid flee tae Disneywarld on her breem
She'd makk him the warlock o aa warlocks
It's nae as if thon gype, his mither
Wid iver jeloose her name…


Welcome tae the Warld
Welcome tae the warld new littlin
Bare an Bonnie, welcome in!
Aa yer lifetime lies afore ye
A hale journey tae begin

May yer days be fulled bi pleisur
May health be yer greatest treisur
May luv find ye, in gweed meisur
Bonnie littlin, welcome in!


Infant Joy, by William Blake, owersett here in Scots

Blythe Bairnie
'I hae nae name;
I am anely twa days auld.'

Fit'll I call ye?

'I blythesome am,
Joy is ma name.'

Sweet joy befaa ye!
Braw joy!
Sweet joy, bit twa days auld.
Sweet Joy I caa ye:
Ye dae smile,
I sing the whyle;
Sweet joy befaa ye!