Scots Poems From Forhooied Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Forhooeied: (Raglan Road)
The poem Raglan Road by Patrick Kavanagh was set to the music of the traditional song "The Dawning of the Day" (Fáinne Geal an Lae) . An Irish-language song with this name (Fáinne Geal an Lae)was published by Edward Walsh (1805-1850)in 1847 in Irish Popular Songs, and later translated into English as The Dawning of the Day, published by Patrick Weston Joyce in 1873.

Fin an Irish bard gies up his hairt
He takks rejection sair
For a student quine, een derk as wine
Frae Kerry he cam tae care

Bit she wis a blythe young twenty twa
An the siller wis in his hair
His life hauf by, hers aa afore
Wad be unca hard tae share

He'd watch her steppin by his yett
‘Wid ye read ma poems ava? '
‘Is it jist o bog an steen ye screive?
She speired o Pat Kavanagh

He set luve doon, like a gift o flooers
In the back eyn o the year
Bit she wauked on bye, an luikit agley
As it wir on a mournin bier

An his unsocht luve, tuik the form o wird
An it steppt like a ghaist wi a jeel
An it spikks tae aa in grief's coorse thraa
Fa hae lued an lost as weel

Nurse o the Feys
Nearhaun Coolgarrow aince there bedd
A fermer, wife an bairnies three
Their coo wis sick, the wife she gaed
Tae buy an elfin remedy

Thon verranicht the mither left….
The bairns vowed that the hoose wi fu
O mannikins an wifiekins
Aa wee, an green, an braw tae view

The fermer he wis richt sair made
A neebor helped his family
Sax wikks syne tae the neebor's hame
A Derk Cheil rode onfite sheltie

‘Ye're needit' quo the elfin cheil
‘Aa richt- far are ye takkin me?
‘It's nae fur ye tae speir or ken'
He touched her een…she cudnae see

Fin they their destination won
He touched her een, she saw again
She got a phial o fey green ile
Tae rub aa ower the fairy's bairn

She stude inbye a castle gran
Wi elfin lairds an leddies fine
An aa the tables wir laid oot
Wi deinties an wi casks o wine

Her ee wis yoky, she did dicht
It, some green ile gaed gaed sypin in
Bit och! The castle it wis cheenged
An aathin wis as dreich as sin

The castle it becam a cave
An oorie airt stap fu o waes
The baby wis a shargaret scrat
The leddies, dressed in orra claes

The Banshee (1)
In Ireland, an omen that sometimes accompanies the banshee is the coach-a-bower(cóiste-bodhar) - an immense black coach, mounted by a coffin, and drawn by headless horses driven by a Dullahan

The Irish bansheechuses tribes,
Winane bit them will she gae
Afore that ane o the nummer dees
She claps an maens wi wae

Ye'll hear fowk keen at a kinsman's daith
Fowk murninin pit mirk duddies
An whyles the banshee sens a coach
That's pued wi heidless cuddies

The Dullachan rides withoot a heid
He hauds it heich in his haun
An gin ye meet him on the road
Ye're leavin the warld o man


The Banshee (2)
The Scottish Baobhan Sith, is known as the White Women of the Scottish Highlands. They took the form of a beautiful woman, waiting to seduce young travellers and drink their blood. The Baobhan Sith were said to shapeshift into wolves to stalk their prey. Legend has itthese women had hooves instead of feet.

Gin ye should meet a quine in fite
Hyne in the Heilans, lad, takk heed
Gyang forrit faist, gin ye devaul,
She'll teir yer thrapple, sook yer bluid

Fowk say she'd hooves insteid o feet
Happt bi her flowin silky claes
Bit she cud cheenge intae a wolf
An wi her fangs, she'd eyn yer days



Lessons
‘I'll shaw ye things nae dominie will shaw ye, '
Ma faither said,
‘things ilkie Scottish bairn should gyang tae see.'

He wis a self-larned cheil
Left skweel at eleyven, aywis readin,
Sookin up new information
Keepit a library stappit fu o kennin

He tuik his bunnet aff in Burns hoose
As gin he stude in kirk, or solemn meetin
Hallowed hame o his hero
Fa's sangs an poems aa o his life did sweeten

Anither day he drave me tae Culloden
Tellin the tale o Jacobites last staun
An Butcher Cumberland wersh deeds
‘Fause Campbells', quo he, ‘lie neth taintit grun'

At Glencoe, ye'd hae thocht the warld wis greetin
A dowie tale o treachery an killin

Eildritch an lanesome, solemn stauns Glenfinnan
Stirlin wis steep, a tayyauve tae pech up, sclimmin

Embro. He gart me spit upon its hairt
Fur luck, ootbye the braa kirk o Saint Giles
I warssled up the steps o Walter Scott
At Scone, Dumfermline, faither wis aa smiles
Waukin in fitsteps o oor Scottish Kings
Fit price Balmoral, far the lintie sings?

Hame grun, he telt o hingin tree o Mar
Blaik Colonel's castle, Farquharson an Dee
French Kitty Rankine, Abergeldie's witch
The unca weird thon bonnie quine did dree

Tell me: fit dominie could better thon?
Glen Quoich- the Earl o Mar's steeny punch bowl?
Fit I-pad, i-phone wauchts the scent o heath
The kinno lear that burns intae yer sowl?


The Winnerfu Tune (Owersett from an Irish Poem)
Maurice Connor o Munster
Blin piper o honour
Wis famed fur his pipin
Sae braw an excitin
His Hen's Concert wis fine
His Erne's Fussle, divine
Bit ae winnerfu tune
Could gar aa in the room
Daunce like strae in a storm
Somelike newly threwshed corn
At fair waddin an feast
He aye heidit the list
Bi his auld mither led
Like a dug tae its bed

Noo ae bonnie day
At Ballinskellig Bay
A humphy backed maister
O dauncin, did offer
Young Connor a drink
An as faist as a wink
He drank a hale bottle
Piped up at fu throttle

Faither Florence Conry
Rhymed the lave bonnily
For the silkies in motion
Like waves frae the ocean
On finned feet cam jinkin
Aa lauchin an prinkin
A rowth o blythe fish
Partans braw's ye could wish
The rare soun they chased
The pechin cod raced
The gunner an fleuk
Furled ben air like a heuk
John-Dories can stottin
Hake ran watter-drappin
Bricht maukrel cam sweengin
Like wattergaws wingin
The whitin an haddie
The spottie, the buckie
The flat physoged skate
Ling, sole, early an late
Wi herrin like flooers
In siller-bricht shooers
Wi jeelyfish, sprat,
Till the san wis a mat
O ocean breets shooglin
Tae Connor's tune jigglin
The oyster clacks mell
Castanets wi each shell
A stramash, a melee
This incam frae the sea
Till on the seaside
Steppt a quine frae the tide

A cocked hat on her heid
Sea green hair, fey, indeed
Wi teeth o fite pearl
Fit fur princess an earl
Lips o coral sae reid
Cam tae Maurice an said
‘I'm a laddy o honour
Cam here Maurice Connor
Be merriet tae me
An these things I shall gie
Siller ashets, gowd dishes
Ye'll be king o the fishes! '

At first he said ‘Na
Twidnae suit me ava
Tae swallae satt watter
Or ett frae gowd platter.'

Bit his mither lamented
Fin Maurice consented
(nae wintin a cod
As a granbairn….foo odd)

‘Wheesht mither, ' cried he
‘I am set for the sea.'

A wave lowpit ower
The sea quine an piper
His mither, wi grievin
Deed wikksfrae his leavin

Frae the Kerry coast wingin
Some nichts, Connor's singin
Is heard ower the san
‘Crystal watter, lued stran
I hae pairtit frae ye
Tae bide wi ma leddy

Takk tent ane an aa
Dinna ficher ava
Wi the eildritch an oorie
Mynd Maurice's story


Bairnhood
I wis the bairn in the glen fa wauked alane
As heich as the deid-man's-bells
That foggy bummers ryped fur crummly pollen
I wippit gowan bracelets roon ma airms
Threidit ragged robins throw ma hair
Paiddlit aneth the saughs far midgies daunced
Pued the sticky willies frae ma frock

I wis the bairn in the glen fa wauked alane
The sun rowed me in its airms
The mappies beat doon roadies fur me tae traivel

Lupins wyved a walcom alang the Dee
I wis niver feart or trauchelt in thon airt
I beeriet ma nebinno the emerant fog
Saft as oo it wis, an puddock damp

Wee gleg bandies flichtered in the puils
Ma shanks, ma barkit shins,
Tanned bi the simmer's heat

The muckle Bens stude roon like guairdians
Ma kin, as close as life-bluid tae ma hairt
Ma mou wis swete wi rasps frae the girssy sheuch

Hyne awa frae the antrin cars ben the road
A different pace o leevin aathegither


Burn o Vat
The auncient cave o Burn o Vat's
Far teenie linns cam treetlin doon
Atween the steens they cowp intae
Sma glentin puils o copper broon
The ferns wyve like some braw Pasha's fan.
Nae pikk o win tae steer the trees
A wyver spreids her eildritch wab
Far wauchts o dauncin midgies heeze

A dragonflee wi emerant wings
Flichters as shafts o sunbeams shift
Butterflees daunce in coortin pairs,
As waves like skinklin starnies flit

This is a hinneypot o peace,
Wi lauchter, far tanned bairnies plash
An plyter…a swete swatch o time.
Ae blink an bairntime has passed


The Great Sheep Panic
There's naethin sae glekit as sheep
They've the harns o a wirm-etten neep
A back-firin car, is the stert o war
An they're aff like a driverless jeep


Drumneachie Ferm
The ferm wis a peat shed, a stack o hackit kinnlin
The ferm wis reeshlin corn and a tattiebogle
The ferm wis buits lined up bi the lowe fur blaikin
The ferm wis washin skelpin in the win
The ferm wis a bee skepp bizzin in the gairden
The ferm wis twa reid kye, their udders stappt wi milk
The ferm wis swippert collies, hair as sheeny as glaiss
The ferm wis parritch bowls, an cream tae poor frae the joog
The ferm wis simmer days an cousins lauchin
The ferm wis dookin doon in the burn bi the dyke
The ferm wis the stank o girse, o sharn, o violets
The ferm wis the taste o hinney, o hotterin hotch potch
The ferm wis a brooch, preened in the hairt o Birse


Hoof, Horn & Claith (Aiberdeen's Caimb Factory)
A hunner dauds o horn, vrocht ilkie wikk
Whale been, kye hooves, tortoise shell smeeth an mirled
Some, shipped in frae lans hynie awa
Tae Aiberdeen, caimb makkers o the warld

Nine million plain an decoratit ferlies
Twa thoosan different designs tae please the ee
Speecialist caimbs to redd up Afro hair
Caimbs fur men's beards, mowsers, an braw leddy

Foondit in echteen thirty, the business thrived
Won medals in Lunnon, Vienna, an Paree
Adelaide, Melbourne, Antwerp an Chicago
Wis hailed frae Kuala Lumpur tae Sydnee

Horn an hoof frae the slauchterhoose, made eese o
Sawn, washed, dried, polished an buffed as weel
(the affcast bits vrocht knife an brolly haunles)
Shined up wi walrus skin rowed roon a wheel

A thoosan cheils an wumman, quines an loons
Tcyauved wi stoorie, noisy, guffin warks
Ae quine sooked intae a muckle machine, back brukken
Deid an ithers hid skaiths an swytin sarks

Aathin vrocht, frae speens, beakers, an fruit knives
Shee horns, letter openers, hair brush, bangles
Bagpipe mooth pieces, sic a rowth o ferlies
Caimbs tae smeeth the empire's knots an taigles

Anither industry the toon surpassed in
Crombie's textiles, weel kent in its day
Ran a naval blockade, across the ocean
Tae gie the Confederate airmy its claith o grey

Crombie wyved the British airmy greatcoat
They clad the WW1 sodjers,for daith
Their wyve his warmed the back o Tsars an ithers
Frae Beatles, Cary Grant tae Gorbachev


Skimmin Steens
The muckle risin meen's a lippenin lug
Luiks ower the warld an gies the tides a rug
Granminnie wis the meen abeen ma warld
The lippenin lug, licht shone in the derk

Granminnie skimmed her wirds abeen ma heid
Tae daunce abeen the surface o ma harns
Stot, stot, like fingin steens across a puil
Wirds spak in bothies, ingle neuks an barns

They sank intae the hairt, left ripples widenin
Memories o wirds langsyne faan ooto eese
An like a staunin steen that's tint its cercle
I spikk them yet, deep seedit in ma breist


The Black Daith
Wis it caused bi the meevements o the planets?
Wis it caused bi orra guffs an smells?
Wis it aa punishment frae God?
Wis it caused bi enemies pysonin wells?

Wis it caused bi glowerin at a victim?
Mebbe frae weirin pyntit sheen?
Did incomers cairry the pest in wi them?
The Pest: the killer that cam unseen.

Cures tae try: sup vinegar, mercury,
Arsenic, traicle that's ten year auld
Rub the skin wi ingins or wi herbs
Try hacked up snake, tae clart fin yer twa fauld
Wi grue. Cut up a doo tae clap upon yer sairs
Mebbe dowpin doon aside a sewer micht dae the trick
Tae drive the fever oot…Or wheep yersel
Or burst the orra buboes wi a prick

A gweed physician cheil will drinkyer pee
An bi its taste he'll ken fit is adee


Buchan in Februar
It's dreich, cauld, blae
Scraped bald as a hen's egg

The wersh win's straicht aff the sea
The clouds are glowerowerums,
Gurly an gray

Reefless wracks o hooses
Staun nyaakit tae the snaa

Watter lies in the parks
Like ashets o ice
The sun's a blearie cataract
A frostit, eildritch ee

A puir palette, peely wally hues
Skeletal trees raxx bare
As deid men's fingers
Spurgies, like baas o caddis
Cheep in the whins

A murder o craas
Pyke at the shargeret girse
Plooed parks sype their poorins
Inno the sheughs

Brae-taps are claithed in fite
Winferm airms yark roon like birlin cairtwheels
Brrr…it's a Buchan Februar
Weir thicker ganzies
The grun's as flat's an oatcake aff the griddle



Mid-Winter Hurl
Twa buses hinna turned up
The bus is stappit

I squeeze intae the last free seat
Facin the aisle, nae forrit

A cheil stauns squashed aside me
His baas press intae ma shooder
He guffs o swyty oxters,
Mingin buits

Ma een are level wi rucksacks, pyokes,
Dowps an hurdies
Luikin up, I see the hair in fowks' nebs,
Like a wee bairn in a warld o adults

Wee bairns maun see the warld frae this perspective
Aathin frae stammache doon
A warld o Gullivars


Politics: A Scots Owersett of the poem by W.B.Yeats
Foo can I, thon quine staunin thonner
Ma attention fix
On Roman or on Rooshian
Or on Spanish politics?
Yet here's a traivelled cheil that kens
Fit he spikks aboot
An there's a politician
That has read an thocht
An mebbe fit they say is true
O war an war's alarms
Bit o that I wir young again
An held her in ma airms


Scots Owersett of a Poem by Maya Angelou
I keep on deein again.
Veins fooner, openin like the
wee neives o sleepin
Bairnies.
Memory o auld kists,
Fooshtyflesh an wirms dinna
convince me agin
The challenge. The years
An cauld defeat bide deep in
Lines alang ma physog.
They blear ma een, yet
I keep on deein,
Because I lue tae live.