Gallery Prints (15 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.Geordie Jamesone, peinter, Aiberdeen
Self-Portrait — George Jamesone

Schuled bi Rubens in Antwerp toun
(Burnt sienna an emerald green)
Peintit fowk fae the monarch doon,
Jamesone, artist, Aiberdeen.

Fin cannon thunnert an weemin skirled,
As Covenanters wi gun an pike
Grimly merched wi their flags unfurled,
Far wis Geordie, the Scots van Dyke?

Bluid wis scaled in the toun's defence
Daith bi sword at the Brig o Dee
War is dearer nur pounds an pence
Geordie Jamesone... Far war ye?

Shiprow, Gallowgate, Justice Street,
Upperkirkgate an Futty Wynd,
Netherkirkgate, the war drums beat,
Till deid war delled and the victors dined.

Ruff an mowser an forkit beard,
Geordie Jamesone wisna blate
Tae catch on canvas the heich Montrose
Anither notch fae the Heids o State.

Geordie Jamesone, foo'd we ken
Wioot yer skill or yer peinter's ee
Fit mainner or makk o Kings an men
Gart cannons thunner an tounsfowk flee?


2.Fusslin Jock
An Idyll — Giovanni Segatini

Fussle, fussle Jocky,
An I'll gie ye a flooer.
Fit guid is sic a giftie?
Twid wither in an oor!

Fussle, fussle Jocky
An I'll gie ye ma sheen.
Fit guid is sic a giftie?
They're bauchled an they're dane.

Fussle, fussle Jocky
An I'll gie ye a kiss.
Cauld kail hett again
Fur ye 're a wanton Miss.

Fussle, fussle Jocky
I'll rowe ye in ma plaid
Feech, an that ye winna
Fur twinty there ye've laid.


3.The Flood
Flood in the Highlands – Sir Edward Landseer

The derkenin cloud. The spit o rain. The burnie bigger growes.
The lichtenin teirs the lift in twa, the larick boos an soughs.

The Heivins teem. The lochans ream. The cooerin yowies bleat
A broken gate's a burn in spate, a warlock, wud an weet.

The Spring that treetled doon the brae is noo a roarin linn
Wi ragin kelpies gaun afore, the horned Deil ahin.

Flood in the Heilins! See the craft wi watter at its croon!
A Heicher Haun than mortal man dings ae wee faimily doon.

An bits o gear that they haud dear, claes, gee-gaws o the best
The risin tide casts aa aside like plooshares throwe a nest.

The worsit plaid wi'ts tartan braid. The greetin littlin's cradle
Are heelstergowdie on the reef wi chitterin tyke, an table.

The riven blanket in the win is torn tae threids an thrums
Like a bodhran in warrior's haun the thunnerin doonpish drums.

Aa draiglit in the dubby glaur, a precious christenin goun
A mither's snawy petticoats, bumshayvelt, heid tae foun.

Buik, buit an pan, the hale jing bang gyang furlin ben the wave
In smithereens fine crystal speens sink tae a stormy grave.

The heichest lum, the stoutest waa, rich herds o milkin kye
Are bit as nocht, fin as unsocht, Misfortune cries inbye.


4.The Herring Fleet
The Herring Fleet Leaving the Dee, Aberdeen — David Farquharson

Far are ye gyaun, min?
Fishin, fishin.

Fit are ye efter?
Herrin, herrin.

Fit are ye thinkin?
Wishin, wishin
Oor nets will rise fu
Fin they're pu'd fae the ocean


5.Village
Our Village – Sir Hubert von Herkomer

Oor village has twa wee howfs an a kirk,
A burn, a brig an a Heilan stirk,
That stauns in its park an nivver says boo...
A douce like beast fur a Heilan coo.

Oor village has ae sma shop an a skweel,
A curlin pond an a paiddlin pull,
An naebody here thinks much o the toun
Wi its traffic jams that wad weir ye doon.

We dinna ging farrer than back an fore,
Frae shop, tae kirk, tae oor ain front door,
Bit we ken aabody in an oot,
Foo they butter their rowie, or guddle a troot.

Nae robber wid get verra far wi us,
Fur we ken each face that cams affo the bus,
An twenty een at the back o yer heid
Are watchin ye, lad. Sae ye'd better be gweed.


6.Midsimmer
Midsummer, East Fife – James McIntosh Patrick

Oh I can see the shaddas shift,
An I can smell the hey,
Fresh cuttit in the simmer park
New-rochled up tae dry.

Noo, ilkie leaf on ilkie bough
Showds in the simmer win,
An I can hear the teuchat's sang
Ayont the yalla whin.

In yon blue sky abeen the lea
Nae pick o cloud nor rain
Time hauds its braith, the meadow-puil
Is clear's a windae pane.

The moosie creeps, the birdie cheeps,
An aa the warld is weel,
Midsimmer, fan the sizzen's cairt
Turns easy on the wheel.


7.Goose Herd
To Pastures New – Sir James Guthrie

Nippit wing, clippit wing
Short's their bit daunder
Tethered bi unseen string
Goose-herd and gander.

Nae soarin lift fur them
Skirlin an skreichin
She'll be a bide-at-hame
Nae furreign traikin.

Niver tae feel the cloud
On each bird-showder!
She'll hae a scrubbit face
Bare o fine pooder.

Nae sun-blink in their een
Anely fairm stoor
Wirk like a muckle steen
Will keep her soor.

Nippit wing, clippit wing
Short's their bit daunder
Tethered bi unseen string
Goose-herd an gander.


8.The Queen o Sheba
The Burn, Catterline – Joan Eardley

The Queen o Sheba bathed in milk,
Yestreen I dooked in flooers.
The aipple sprinkled ower ma heid
A petal-fa o shooers.

An like a sea-horse in the lift
Cloud shook its snawy mane,
An heistit up a wattergaw
Wi pearls on ilkie rein.

Forget-me-nots wagged in the wave
Wi bandies in each turn
The choicest meenits e'er I spent
Were by thon Deeside burn!


9.The Lang Road Hame
Maternite — George Hitchcock

She humphs a muckle wechty pack,
A littlin in her airms,
Twa dooncast een,
Twa trauchelt sheen
A pathie teem o cherms.

A weariet deem. Afore her een,
Her shadda raxxes, black.
A wee fitfa,
In stirkie's staa
The laddie at her back.

An neither spikks, fur spikk is by
They haik the stoory road
That as maun wauk
Frae first day-brakk
Each, wi his different load.

Wi some deep wrang, her thochts are thrang
Her bairn wid like tae climm
Intae her briest. Anither reists
Far aince she bosied him.

A mither's as the risin sun
She smiles, the bairn rins weel
Bit fin she's wae, it soors his day
And dowie is his dreel.

A meenit's rest wad cheer the bairn,
Fa hyters on clean-deen,
The mither seeks a langer sleep...
The wyvin girss abeen.


10.Eve Reflects at the Fruit Counter
Triptych: Cherries, Forbidden Fruit & Pear in Landscape — Alison Watt

Geans grow fat in Simmer
Raither, their flooers I'd pree
Than the stane wi the reid flesh roon it
Heich on the wrunkled tree.

Pears fur a Spanish lady
Wi' hochs like a Rubens' quine
Micht suit on a grandee's table
They winna dae fur mine.

Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest
The aipples ahin the waa
At the hairt o anither's orchard
Ae shog wid gar it faa!


11.Feekie Drinker
Gallowgate Lard 1995-6 — Ken Currie

Far bairns' buggies shoogle ower the cassies
Dirdin aff tae playscheme, granny, creche

Far druggies dwaum wi smack deep in their beens
Their faces teem tae sunsheen or regret
He pykes a zig zag line atween the gravesteens
Fleggin the doos that scraun the toun fur meat

His chooks are raw's a newly scrubbit doorstep
Wee piggies een. Neb, like a grumphie's snoot

Thin lips drawn back in slavers at the neuk
Like side o beef, bluid dreepin frae the heuk

Buck teeth. Yoam mertit unner ivery nail
A scabby broo. Hair grizzled like a brock

The traffic wardens ken him, medics tee
A hameless, drunken, feekie-drinkin vratch

Nae family tae ain or claim, or wint him
He dosses doon in pee-stained shoppie doors

Waukenin, his first thocht's tae slake his drooth
Fin every sinew craves reid Middy plonk

A human suitcase aabody leaves ahin
Wi nae address, belangins, stitchin lowse.


12.Fitsteps
Welcome Footsteps(detail) – Marcus Stone

The yoam o the evening meal
Tatties mashed, mince broon
The sklyter o bairns' buits
Droonin the TV soun
Fitsteps

Birr o security bell
Lowpin the stairs like a bawd
Takkin the steep stairwell
Love pits wings on a lad
Fitsteps

Cream o a clinic waa
Reeshle o magazine
Lirks on a worriet broo
Sooch o a nurses sheen
Fitsteps

Blin-eed shauchlin gait
Bauchlin, trauchlin alang
Even the lowe burns quaet
Eyne o an auld sang
Fitsteps



.
13.The Widda Antoinette
Antoinette — John Bellany

Her heid is hudderie. Nae lipstick ava
Her man wis blawn tae smush in the North Sea
She bides alane doon far the skurries caa

An ilkie nicht in sleep she mynes it aa
The TV picturs, burnin ocean bree
The skirlin crew wheeched aff in a fireba.

She tuik daith in, bit cooerin it wis slaw
Bare thirty-three, nae age fur him tae dee
Left her a widda wi a littlin, smaa

The unnertakker cam, a hoodie craw
Reporters heezed... a whiplash media spree
The service that the toun gaed, tho, wis braw

This warld's fur couples, nae fur hauf a twa
Feart that she'd turn an amatory ee
On husbands, freens wad hurry past her waa

She bides alane doon far the Nor wins blaa
The widda Antoinette. Aa she can see
Fin nicht brings desolation in its mawe's
The Hounds o Hell that stole her love awa.


14.The Typhoid Summer (Tune: The Corncraik)
Bonjour Professor Caine – John Bellany

Oh Aiberdeen's a bonnie toun aside the grey North Sea
It's granite clad fae tap tae foun, the pearl o Don an Dee
It is the Dallas o the North, ile herbour bi the tide
Bit nae in nineteen saxty fower fm typhoid cam tae bide.

Nae since the plague won throwe its yetts did aa its commerce fail;
A city unner siege, teem trains stude ghaistly on the rail
A stricken toun, its beaches teemed. Sent frae the Argentine,
Contamination on a plate... ill fare on which tae dine

Ten thoosan fowk a wikk at William Low's wad buy their meat
Bit sickness an debility's nae fit ye'd choose tae eat
Hale families they war ferried aff an kept in quarantine
A present frae across the waves, a blicht in the food chyne.

As ilkie school an meetin place telt fowk tae bide awa
Hotels an supermairkets baith saw monthly profits faa
The sun shone ower the hospitals that fowk wad scarce gae near
The Summer that oor bonnie toun becam a place o fear

Oh Aiberdeen's a bonnie toun aside the grey North Sea
It's granite clad fae tap tae foun, the pearl o Don an Dee
It is the Dallas o the North, ile herbour bi the tide
Bit nae in nineteen saxty fower fm typhoid cam tae bide.


15.View o Aiberdeen
View of Aberdeen – William Mossman

Nae multistoreys, traffic jams in sicht!
An age o brandy, shelts, sedans an tea
Quay – toon, green kintra lappin roon her sides
An skies that kent nae ither wings bit birds.
A pygmy placie, weety-cauld an stinch
Win-cairdit bi the soochin o the sea.

Braid brush strokes smeeth the water flat's a bap.
Twa Jacobite rebellions didna mar
This peinter's idyll, nur the orra trade
In human flesh, the slavers' currency
Onchancy times – yet aa's as smeeth as glaiss
Staun still, breath deep, ye near can smell the girss
Cam wachtin fae the pictur in a yoam.

Weel-seen the artist learned his darg in Rome.
The centuries hae grown... sae has the toon
Twa universities noo weir the goun
0 academe. Nae whaling noo, bit ile.
Langsyne the Tolbooth nocht anither jyle.

In maisonette, bedsit, wee upstairs flat
Tenement, hostel, hospital or Hame,
In Tilly, Seaton, Cults or Desswid Place
The view o this braif toon, is't as the same?
A full glaiss, or a teem? Throwe ither's een
In mosque, kirk, howf, fit view o Aiberdeen?