Scots Poems From Sizzons Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Scottish Alphabet
An aiblich is a gypit cheil
Bigsie an vauntie, he's a blaw
Couthie an cantie's a gweed frien
Douce an blyhesome's best ava
Eenertie feenertie ficherty fegs
Forkietails hae nippy dowps
Gollachs are bummers, flees an glegs
Heelstergowdie, flechs can lowp
Ingleneuks are cosie bields
Jink the snaa an coddle yer taes
Kail brose, cranachan, tatties, neeps
Littlins dauncin in worsit claes
Mony a meikle makks a muckle
Neives wir vrocht tae knell an chap
Oorie ghaisties waucht ben biggins
Peely-wally's a flooery bap
Queeriorrals an furliegorums
Rattens chitter an hoolets hoot
Selkies and kelpies bide in watter
Tipperty tapperty, tig, ye're oot!
Unca wechty's a creashie greashie
Verra sliddery skytes the snake
Waas are bields fur slivery snailies
x-tra tech is a dried up hake
yon's an alphabet, fey an flichertie
Zippin doon like a bletherskate


Widdendreme
Inspired by L'Appel de la Nuit(The call of the night) Paul Delvaux

A blinfauld, nyaakit woman hauds a lamp
Is she a sanct or a sinner?
She guairds the yett o a hoose
Goddess o the fowk inbye
Turnin her back on the stooshie that's ahin her

The lanscape's deid, forehooied
Stane cercles rise frae the grun…they hae tint their glory
Skulls clack their chakk-fite teeth in daith's fey grin
This is the ootlinn warld o purgatory

Caunles are lichtit in a blichtit tree
Ivy instead o hair, sproots growthy frae weemen's heids
Naebody spikks, nae warmth or succour thonner
Takk tent…there's wudness here
The lift is wechty wi thunner

A blinfauld, nyaakit woman hauds a lamp
Is she a sanct or a sinner?
She guairds the yett o a hoose
Goddess o the fowk inbye
Turnin her back on the stooshie that's ahin her


The Sklaik
Inspired by the painting ‘La Causette' (The chat) by Edouard Vuillard

Yer luikin unca soor this mornin Donna
Fit wye sae dour?
Ma Jimmy's got himself anither quine
She's jist a hoor!
She pyed him did she nae
Tae fit her shooer?

Ay an I timed it. He wis at it
Fur ten oor
Tae fit a shooer, ten oor?
Sae is it ower?
Ay, an I gied thon jaad a bonnie cloor
Her lug swalled up as big's a cauliflooer
She'll mind on you, syne Donna
That's fur sure!


Rabbi wi Cattie
Inspired by the paintingofNatalya Goncharova; Rabbi with Cat

Twa cheils humfin sacks
Flee frae a pogrom, frae the coorseness o Jew haters
Their Rabbi is straikin his cattie
It purrs in his blaik jaiket, castin hairs
Its amethyst een dinna judge its brither-craiturs

The cattie's nae a bigot, this Rabbi's pet
Forbye, it micht be Moses in his cradle
The Rabbi's hauns are cupped, twa safety nets
Hyne aff, air's derk an rikkin
Aa's etten bi ragin flames
Steadins, hames an presses, reef an biggin
God watches, pynts a lang an heavenly finger
Bit lats the pogram cairry on fitiver


Up the Duff
Inspired by the painting Jan Arnolfini & his wife: Jan Van Eykc

I anely mairriet him fur his siller
That, an the posh stuff
He mairriet me fur a brood soo
The peg tae hing the faimily name on

Times is teuch
I lie back, open ma hochs an think o
The villa in Portugal
The Swedish kitchie
While on tap, he huffs an puffs

Noo I'm up the duff
Naebody warned me aboot
Swalled cuits
Cowkin ower brakkfaist
Streetch merks
He wints a squatter o bairns
I tell him, yer aff yer chuff


Simmer
Simmer an watter they gyang weel thegither
Paiddlin, plowterin, guddlin fur troot
Barfit an blithesome, ower shelt-paths an heather
Gowden the lift far the sun birssles oot

Makkin wee boaties an skimmin stanes lichtly
Dauchlin in widlans an fleggin the tod
The hett pulse o simmer is stoonin wi pleisur
Harebells are ringin an faist rins the bawd

Luvers lie smoorichin oot in the hey park
Quines' hauns are stappit wi gowan an gean
Blink an they're ower thon days o heich leisur
A puddock gaes lowpin in puils like sateen


Sleekit Mr Tod
Tune: Old McDonald had a Farm

Sleekit Mr Tod he bedd in a yirdy den
His wife an fower bairnies aa ett chukkens frae the pen
Wi a chore chore here, an a chore chore there
Here a chore, there a chore, aawye a chore chore
Sleekit Mr Tod he bedd in a yirdy den

Three ferms keepit Tod weel fed, o Boggis, Bunce an Bean
They shot aff his tail ae nicht, his dowp o fur wis clean
Wi a bang bang here, an a bang bang there
Here a bang, t here a bang, aawye a bang bang
Mr Tod he lost his tail, his dowp o fur wis clean

Boggis kept a chucken ferm, cock a doodle doo
The tasty hens he keepit there, the Tods a luved tae chew
Wi a chaw chaw here an a chaw chaw there
Here a chaw there a chaw aawye a chaw chaw
Boggis kept a chucken ferm cock a doodle doo

Bunce he raised up dyeuks an geese, Tod wid takk them hame
Bunce wid rage bit Tod he lauched, him it wis a game
Wi a rage rage here an a rage rage there
Here a rage there a rage aawey a rage rage
Bunce he raised up dyeuks an geese, Tod wid takk them hame

Bean he bred up bubblyjocks, fattest on the ferms
Tod he wheeched them clean awa, as denner fur his bairns
Wi a wheech wheech here an a wheech wheech there
Here a wheech, there a wheech, aaywey a wheech wheech
Tod he wheeched them clean awa, as denner fur his bairns

The fairmers tried tae howk him oot wi digger an wi spadd
Bit Mr Tod dug farrer doon an drave the fairmers mad
Wi a howk howk here, an a howk howk there
Here a howk there a howk aawye a howk howk
Mr Tod dug farrer doon an drave the fairmers mad

Neist they wyted at his yett, Tod began tae sterve
Boggis, Bunce an Bean wir keen tae brakk this vratch's nerve
Wi a wyte wyte here, an a wyte wyte there
Here a wyte, there a wyte, aawye a wyte wyte
Boggis, Bunce an Bean wir keen tae brakk this vratch's nerve

Aa the breets aneth the grun began tae sterve as weel
Tod he helped them as hehowked, upwards fur a meal
Tae a Boggis hen frae a Boggis pen
Here a hen frae a pen aawye a fat hen
Tod he helped them as hehowked, upwards fur a meal

Mr Tod met Mr Brock on the hunt fur tea
Bunce's storehoose wis the neist, wi dyeuks an geese tae pree
Wi a platefu here an a platefu there
Here a plate, there a plate, aawye a platefu
Bunce's storehoose wis the neist, wi dyeuks an geese tae pree


Mr Bean's ferm wis the last, near catched bi his maid Mabel
A ratten gaed them aa a fleg, as they cleared up Bean's table
Wi a fleg fleg here, an a fleg fleg there,
Here a fleg there a fleg, aawye a fleg fleg
A ratten gaed them aa a fleg, as they cleared up Bean's table

Noo Boggis, Bunce an Bean still wyte fur Tod tae lowp up oot
Years will pass afore he dis, o thon we hae nae doot
Wi a lowp up here, an a lowp up there
Here a lowp, there a lowp aawye a lowp lowp
Years will pass afore he dis, o thon we hae nae doot


Embro Festival (2)
Strippit semmit, face o plooks
(hurlin bairn's buggy sooks)
Hair yarked back like sheltie's tail
Halflins caper, ice creams skail

Hett eneuch tae fry an egg
Flees are bizzin, swippert, gleg
Cheils like pregnant lassies stride
(hernias are ill tae hide)

Toddlers wyvin at the tram
(nae a wird o traffic jam)
Gie that littlin there a shottie
Sun's as strang as Lanzarotti

Embro at the Festival
Glesga keelie: ‘Hya Doll! '
Here's the warld an his wife
Embro's lowpin….fu o life

Plays an picturs, acrobats
Towrists in Hey Jimmy hats
Skirl o bagpipes, haud yer lugs
Mummers, tartan, scotty dugs

Unicorns are aa the rage
Sic fey patter on the stage
Stiltwalkers, balloons an beer
Aathin is stramash an steer
Embro is the place tae be
Fur punter an celebrity
Jugglin, peintin, dauncin, singin
Streets are heezin. Tills are ringin!


Nor East Autumn
Ambushed bi rake an gaitherin hauns
Leaves are tummlin tae the lowe
Shadowy, wrunkled, crackly, dwined
Cairpetin gairden, wid an knowe

Autumn's the sizzon gars them faa
Simmer's dauncers, that lowped sae braw
Swypit awa wi cranreuch cauld
Deid an abandoned, happin aa

Gracefu foliage cheenged tae rikk
Up tae the lift their sowels are furlin
Intae the blae heich heivens air
Yestreens leaves like peeries birlin


4 Owersetts in Scots o Celtic Poems

Omens
I heard the gowk bird, wi nae maet in ma wyme
I heard the cooshie doo at the tap o the tree
I heard the swete singer in the farrest wid
I heard the skreich o the hoolets at night
I saw a lammie, wi his back tae me
I saw the snailieon his bare flag stane
I saw the foalie wi his dowp tae me
I saw the wheatear on a dyke o holes
I saw the snipe while sittin booed ower
An I foresaw that the year widnae gae weel wi me

Sang o the River Ghaist Nigheag
I am washin the grave cloots o the bonnie cheils
Fa are gaun oot bit will niver cam in
The daith dirge o the ready-haundit cheils
Fa shall gae oot sikk danger an faa

I am lustrin the linen o the bonnie cheils
Fa shall gae oot in the foreneen early
Upon the weel shod grey shelts
An winna cam bback in due sizzen


Caoine
Cauld, derk an dumb lies ma loon in his bed
Cauld, derk an seelent the nicht dyews are shed,
Hett, faist an fierce faa ma tears fur the deid

His fitprents lay licht in the dyew o the daybrakk
As the youngknoweheid fawn on its straicht nerra track
Ower the girse I'll nae folla him, ochone, sic a lack

His bonnie chikk blushed fin the sun raise ower aa
An he shone in his virr like the noon sun sae braw
Bit a blaik cloud o derkness his hid him awa

An thon blaik cloud foriver shall cling up abeen
An niver, och niver, I'll see him again
Tint warmth o ma breistie, tint licht o ma een

The Calends o Yule
The Calends o Yule are cam, the grain
Growes hard, the deid leaf draps in the rain
Tho the fremmit body bid ye, dinna turn again

The Calends o Yule: aboot the hairth-smuchter
Sklaiks draa close, storm grips the yird tichter
Noo mony a secret skails, in the lauchter

The Calends o Yule- forgot in the cauld
The tale o the Calends o simmer, tauld
Fit the gowk-bird sang tae the blackie, bold

The Calends o Yule - the night faas sune
Blaik as the corbie- the efterneen
Dwines tae evenin, tint o a tune

The Calends o Yule are cam. The heath
Is nyaakit far it wis brunt. The braith
O the owsen rikk. The auld awyte daith


A Michty Aik(Major Oak, Sherwood Forest)
The michty aik hauds ticht its zimmer o steel
Its limbs ower auld tae haud its auncient wecht
Its airms are gnarled an girssly, wrinkled an knottit
A thoosan years foo mony acorns hae stottit
Frae its growthy twigs?
Aroon it, sisters wi blaik Medusa heids,
Wi ugsome timmer physogs,
Wi gappit mous still staun
Some riven wi lichtnin strikks
Some etten wi beefsteak fungi
Nae willin tae gie up the ghaist
Like auld fowk in a care hame
Nae wintin tae drap aff the reest


Henry VIII
Henry VIII beheidit wives, like sneckin weeds, gweed sakes
The muckle clort reived haly grun, an cuttit doon braw aiks
He nott the timmer fur his wars, the Mary Rose tae bigg
It sank doon tae the ocean's foun, mast, yairdairm, bell, an brig


The Icarus Sizzon: Poetry Scotland issue 100
Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air
Like Icarus, a shortsome flicht
Ower the horizon an awa
A glisk, a glent, a trick o licht
Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air

Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air
As brief a brierin as a flooer
Wi years tae wish its blossoms back
A pee-the bed's blawn feathery oor
Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air

Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air
Sae swack, sae swippert, aathin new
An aa the warld tae meetan win
Fin seen throwe een bricht washed wi dyew
Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air

Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air
The Sizzons eftir, wecht ye doon
Till, at the eyn ye creep twa fauld
Green leaves turn dwined, an wrinkle broon
Bairnhood wheechs by on wings o air