Scots Poems From Moon Struck Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Ma Neebor the Tod
Ae saft simmer gloamin wi the nicht drawin near
I met a tod at the yett

We tuik each ither in.
We cudnae spikk aboot bankin details,
Direct debits, rates an taxes
The weather, cholestoral, high bluid pressure
Insurance, the price o holidays

Body leid seemed tae wirk
I wis ower big for prey,
Juicy eneuch fur a bite
Gin he wis cornered

I wis staunin in his territory
He wis staunin in mine
A bonnie breet, an enigma
Stalemate. A birdie crooed frae a tree
He turned an meltit awa
Wi a sweesh o his russet tail
He left nae forwirdin address


Catties
We are telt that some bairns in the shire
Tae the status o cats wid aspire
They'd aa like tae lay
On a wee litter tray
Their keech, like the coos in the byre

Ither sources say thon is a hoax
Bi fowk that like pliskies an jokes
Bit it's spreid like wildfire
Roon the toun an the shire
Sic lauchs did thon rumour evoke

Sae at nicht gin ye see a wee bairn
Creepin oot on aa fowers- nae concern
Should be gien, he's jist feel
Lat him mieuw, scrat as weel
He'll be pyed tae catch mice on some ferm
A cat frae aside Inverness
Gied a statement tae chiels o the press
Wid bairns like it gin cats
Tuik the place o thon brats
An caused parents an skweels sair distress?

The Auld Coo Days
The auld coo telt her frien the hoodie craa,
Merch is the coorsest month in aa the year;
Naethin bit wershest weather, storm an snaa.

The month o Merch wis lippenin tae it aa
Thon coo'll regret her girnin, noo I sweir
I'll gie her wins as cauld as I can blaw

The auld coo in the park, far frae her staa
Cowped ower, a brae o thorns her bovine bier
Jeeled tae the marra in the gale sae raa

Sae niver girn fin ondings snawy faa
The weather gods will skaith ye niver fear
Think: larn tae takk the orra wi the braw


A Puckle Wirds I Like
Fin I'm trauchelt or scunnert there's wirds that I myne
I larned as a bairn frae ma granny langsyne
There's fichery, fyauchy, dumfounert an fey
There's fashious an fooshunless, drookit an blae
Syne ooto ma harns they cam skalin like watter
Oxters an spinnleshanks, fegs, a hale squatter
O gleg clishmaclavers that dirl in yer lugs
Like the clash in a backie o hudderie-haired dugs
At nicht in ma chaumer they daunce roon ma heid
Halflins an littlins baith leevin an deid
Sic wirdies are precious, mair precious than gowd
An och, sic a pleisur tae spikk them oot loud!
Wi a body that shares the same lingo as me
The Scots that we heard at oor granmither's knee

The King's Drops Charles: II
Afore the NHS wis formed in Charles the Second's days
The Merry Monarch ground up human skulls his ills tae ease
Melled wi a swatch o alcohol, he swore it did him guid
Tae mix it up like cough seerip, his medicine frae the deid

The Towrist
Mrs McTavish has cam hame
Frae a trip tae Vietnam
She is weirin a haun-loomed silk dress

Fur Aunty Margaret in Inverness
She's brocht a lacquer weir tray
Tae haud her suppertime oatcakes an cheese
It is bocht tae impress

Fur her nephew Brian
She has rugged throw customs, clogs
A conical fermer's hat
An a postcaird o a chef pot roastin dugs
Fur her sister Clementine
Three bottlies o snake wine
And a selfie taen aside a hingin vine

Fur Granny in Keith
A paper dragon, a lantern an chopsticks
Tho granny has nae teeth

For her dother, Mable
The pièce de résistance
A jar o weasel-poo coffee
Fur the kitchie table

An fur her brither's quine (a Goth)
A video showin hersel sittin down tae dine
On deep fried girse lowpers an flesh o porcupine


Tatties
Tatties are grown in lans aa roon the world.
Fite tatties group wi plants sic like tomataes,
Tobaccae, chilli pepper, an petunia.
Ae echt ounce tattie hauds a hunner calories.

Thomas Jefferson brocht in "french fries"
He served them at a fantoosh Fite Hoose denner
The tattie wis the first veg grown in a space
Tae feed the future's cosmic colonies

The tattie blicht in Ireland killed a million
The name cams frae the Spanish wird patata
The common spud, or tater, tasty tuber
Is grown from Chile, Greenlan, an in China

King Edwards, Jersey Royals, pink Desiree
Mr Little's Yetholm gypsy tattie
Low carbon fitprent, eco friendly grub
Vivaldi, Maris Piper, an Apache

Tattie flooers wir heich in royal fashion,
Worn in the hair o Marie Antoinette
They can makk vodka, gin, an strang potcheen
Nutrition: near as perfeck's ye can get!


The Auldest Coo in the Warld
The auldest age recordit fur a coo
Wis jist 3 months aff 49 years total
Alive, she mithered 39 guid calves
Her ilkie moo wis Irish, verra vocal

Big Bertha wis a coo celebrity
The Guinness book o records spreid her fame
She wis a reg'lar sicht aroon the fairs,
Leadin St. Patrick's Day parade in Sneem

Thoosans o puns fur charities she raised
This Droimeann coo frae County Derry
Her maister kept her calm afore a steer
Bi giein her great wauchts o Irish fusky

Eftir her daith, ae cranreuch Hogmanay
Fowk held her wake in the Blaikwatter Inn
In County Kerry. Syne, they hid her stuffed
Since then, she's bin named in an Irish gin!




A Scots Owersett of a Latvian daina, from an Anonymous poem
I hid a specklit coo,
Her bield wis in the byre.
Fit becam o the specklit coo?
I swappit her for siller.
Fit becam o the siller?
The river swypt it awa
Fit becam o the river?

Blaik bulls lappit it up.
They vanished doon a lang road.
Fit becam o the road?
It wis owergrown bi madder.
Fit becam o the madder?
Quines pued the yalla flooers.
Fit becam o the quines?
They rade awa wi young cheils.
Fit becam o the? cheils
They biggit manors ayont the knowes.
Fit becam o the manors?
They aa bleezed up in blae flames.
Fit becam o the blae flames?
They dwinnlit doon tae aisse.
Fit becam o the howpie o aisse?
A blaik hennie raikit the aisse.
Fit becam o the blaik hennie?
A hawk cairriet her aff.
Fit becam o the hawk?
He vanished ower green birks.
Fit becam o the wids o birk?
The sons o God redd up the lan.
Fit becam o the sons o God?
They climmed up intae the lift,
Thrummin strings, drummin drums.
Fit are they daein in the lift?
They sit ahin a brod screivin:
Fa shall dee, fa shall live
On the eirde aneth the sun.


Scots Owersett o Benediction bi Stanley Kunitz
God drive frae yer hoose
The flee, the gollach, the moose
That makk stooshies in the waas
Until the plaister faas;

Sen aff frae yer door
The hypocrite an leear;

Nae blate, saft, tigrish fleg
Pit on yer stair a leg

Nur agents o yer doot.
God drive them fusslin oot.

Lat nocht be touched wi sin,
Lat nocht that crines cam in

Hairt's swetest vein, intrude
Upon yer still, deep bluid.

Agin the dreep o nicht
God keep aa windaes ticht,

Yer keekin glaiss proteck
Frae gyteness an begeck

An lat nae trailin win
Tae yer steeked harns cam in

Tae plume the loch o sleep
Wi dreams. Gin ye maun greet

God gie ye tears, bit leave
Ye secrecy tae grieve,

An islands fur yer pride
An luv reest in yer side


Scots Owersett o An Auld Cracked Tune bi Stanley Kunitz
Ma nemme is Solomon Levi,
The desert is ma hame,
Ma mither's breist wis thorny,
An faither I hid nane.
The sans fuspered, Be yersel,
the stanes larnt me. Be hard.
I daunce, fur the joy o survivin,
on the edge o the road.


Scots Owersett o The Lang Boat bi Stanley Kunitz
Fin his boatie brukk lowse
frae its moorin, unner
the skreichin o the skurries,
he ettled at first tae wyve
tae his dearies on shore,
bit in the rowin fog
they'd already tint their faces.
Ower trauchelt even tae chuse
atween lowpin an caain,
somewye he felt absolved an free
o his sairs, thon mottoes
stampit on his nemme-tag:
conscience, ambition, an aa
thon carin.
He wis blythe tae lie doon
wi the faimily ghaists
in the showdin o his cradle,
duntit bi the storm,
eynlessly driftin.
Peace! Peace!
To be showdit bi the Aybydan!
As gin it didnae maitter
fit wye wis hame;
as gin he didnae ken
he lued the eirde sae muckle
he wintit tae bide foraye.


Scots Owersett o Single vision bi Stanley Kunitz
Afore I'm aathegither shriven
I shall forego ma inch o heiven.

Cancel ma een, an, staunin, sink
Intae ma deepest sel; there drink

Memory doon. The banner o
Ma bluid, unfurled, winna be luve,

Anely the peety an the pride
O it, preened tae ma open side.

Fin I hae aathegither socht
Tae cleanse the ongauns o ma thocht

Vrocht the leid o ma marra till
Its forms are instant tae ma will,

Tholed the leaf o ma hairt tae faa
Unner the win, an, strippin aa

The tender blanket frae ma bane,
Rise like a skellet the sun,

I shall hae risen tae disown
The gweed mortality I won.

Directly risen wi the stain
O life upon ma crested harns,

That I shall shakk agin ma ghaist
Tae frichten him, fin I am tint

Gladly as ony pyson, yield
Ma halvered conscience, brichtly peeled;

Smittin him, since we live bit aince,
Wi the unused sin in ma banes.

I'll drap the tears o souls, the true
Swyte, Blake's byordnar clivver dyew,

Afore I am resigned tae slip
A stoory finger on ma lip.


Scots Owersett o a Poem bi Carl Rakosi
The emerteens cam
tae owerluik
the deid
bull snake,
chaaed
at the intimmers
an hashed aff
wi stappit mous
wyvin wud
antennae.

Mochs alichted,
gollachs heezed,
flees bizzed
in the wyme.

Three craas
tuggit an rived
an flew aff
tae their aik tree
wi the skin.

In ilkie hoose
cheils, weemen an bairns

wir ettin beef.
Fa wis it said
"The mervel o the warld
is its comprehensibility."


Scots Owersett o Time to Kill bi Carl Rakosi
a chiel an his tyke

fit a plisky
chasin twigs
inno the watter!

young quines cycle by
thegither an in tartan shorts

a win sae saft
a body's hale
back dirls
wi cilia
a douce loch
the sun byles
at the mids,
brichtens the zone
fur a chiel
an lays
a healin cloot
ben his nape

an aeroplane
wee an flat
as a paper model
roars ahin
the Virgilian scene

an auld bodach
cowps his strae hat
doon tae shade
his een,
pus up his fishline
An meeves on
tae a new neuk

the puir wee
slater
crawls ben
the bark edge
fur his life


The Fart: A Bairn Rhyme
A fart slippit oot neth a semmit
An naebody clyped on fa'd daen it
Nae a bairn in the class
Wid say fa lat it pass
It wis ower airy-fairy tae bin it

It set aff the fire alarm
Twis sae hett it could dae yer snoot harm
Yer lugs, neb an mou
That rank fart stappit fu
Its guff wis mair orra than sharn

The fart turned the verra air green
As it blew aa aroon Aiberdeen
The gulls flew awa
An the doos cried ta ta
An fowk feintit far thon fart had been

They say that thon fart that sae pained us
Wis sniffed frae Dunoon tae Las Vegas
Bi the airforce twis catched
An wis quickly despatched
In a rocket tae orbit Uranus


Februar,2023
A flotilla o clouds
Float parallel in the lift

The lichts o this Norlan toun
Blink on tae greet the day
Fowk shave an shouer
An sup their toast an tea

Daybrakk's crackit
The egg o mornin in the pan
Noo traffic steers an hotters
Industry hauds gaun

A bus fills up, ye'll hear the skirps o spikk
Yoruba, Polish, Hindi. Aiberdeen
Is noo a player on the global scene


Huntly, Februar
The parks are brierin, skinklin in the sun
The fite airms o the win ferms slawly turn
Deid leaves lie on the widlan's graveyaird fleer
Flames frae a gairden bonfire crack an burn

In Gordon kintra Doric still is heard
It's couthie on the lug an in the mou
Imbolc's passed by, birds bigg their twiggy nests
In sheuch an dykeside bonnie snaadraps boo

Yowes ett the girse, al fresco in the park
The antrin burn rowes like a sheenin snake
Hyne up abeen a buzzard furls an flees
As ower a road kill hurcheon, corbies craik

Sheets wallop in the win ahin a hame
As Huntly, fat wi hooses, birrs wi fowk
On eerins tae a neebors, or tae wirk
An some in shoppie aisles push trolleys, howk
Fur bargains as the kintra feels the strain
O fuel cost rises, an recession's pain