Scots Poems From The Unsayable Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Wincher's Stance: A Statue by John Clinchin Glasgow Bus Station
He'd a broo like Andy Stewart
He'd a Rab C. Nesbitt sark
Wi his bovver buits an jeans on
He wis vrocht fur navvie wark

Wi her Tam o Shanter bunnet
Wis she jist his Heilan fling?
Wi her frock hauf up her bihoochie
As he clinched her in a swing

She wis aff her feet wi passion
Glesga style: The Wincher's stance
Close as a mat tae lino
Glesga: city o Romance


Skinnymalinkie Spider
Skinnymalinkie spider tried tae catch a flee
Fit a begeck the spider got
She'd catched a bumble bee
It tore her bonnie webbing
It bizzed aroon her heid
An skinnymalinkie spider
Endit up on bumble breid


The Tarland Burn
The Tarland Burn frae auncient times
Is a tributary o the Dee
That rins frae the bonnie hills o Cromar
Frae Abyne, tae the cauld north sea

It defendit the Castle o Coull langsyne
It keepit the parks gey trig
On the Tarland Wey ye can cross it twice
Heugheid an the Otter Brig

Forestry, livestock, hoosin, game
Blichtit thon burn wi waste
Scientist, fermers wirkit hard
Noo the watter rins clear faced

In the winter o ‘15 storm Frank
Gart the Tarland Burn tae swell
An eichty trailer loads o grit
It tuik tae the flood dispel

In bonnier times, aroon the burn
The breem an the bracken growe
Morven an Mortlich, Laidlich
Look doon on this seelie Howe
Puddock an otter, bawd an yowe
Aa live bi the Burnie side
Nettle an pheasant, rowan reid
Chose the burn fur a bield bide.

The Tarlan Burn in the simmer months
Hauds bandies an swippert troot
An ower its heid wud goosers hing
Reid rasps, an sweet muirlan fruit


Feathers
A hotterel o spurgies stoor dookin
Feathered baas o broon
Wenchin an chirpin, a clanjamfrey o clishmaclavers

Like berries on the byle
Hotchin fur houghmagandie

They hae drapt frae the oxters o clouds
Wee flee-ups, pynty nebbit, on birrin wings
Newsin, sklaikin, fechtin
Argybargyincarnapcious towe-rags
Stappin their beaks wi wirms
Hornygollachs an flechs
An vauntie's ony lass wi a keekin glaiss

Common as pee-the-beds, spurgies
Bit couthie, couthie an braw


The Citadel, Aberdeen
The Citadel's fur the saved, the gweed, the godly
The merket cross could turn tae a merrimatanzie
Far life birls roon, a hotterin broth o sowels

The herbour, the coort, the howfs
Skail oot their fowk tae jyne the mirled melee

Seagulls are reined tae a coach load
Aimed at the lift, tae the cloudy mansions o Heiven

Ablow, the damned, the tint
The chauncers, the orrals, the coorse are birsslin in hell

The scunnersome pit o sulphur
Kent bi Hieronymous Bosch
Hauds Auld Nick's forkie-tailed deevilocks

On Setterdays, snod wee quinies
Wi ballet buns an tutus
Lowp like glegs in the Citadel
An volunteers in the café raise siller fur causes
The seagulls wyte fur the deid
Fa've dane least ill
Tae flee in their feathery easy-jet tae Kingdom com

Up frae the crackit cassies
The stank o sulphur whyles wauchts ben the wynds


Lizzie's Dother
The howdie hauds a sonsie quine
Baloo baloo ma dearie
The howdie's braid in airm an girth
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

Sae mony bairns she's ruggit oot
Baloo baloo ma dearie
As tunes upon a piper's flute
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

The howdie's humfy-backit kind
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Nae sensual tae a suitor's mind
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

Bit mithers in their agony
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Are gled the howdie's skill tae pree
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

An as she showds the newest quine
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Betimes her een drap tears o brine
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

She's ne'er bin coortit neth the meen
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Ay suppit frae the spinster's speen
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

Tho first tae hear each babby's greet
Baloo baloo ma dearie
Her briests wi milk wir niver weet
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie

She ay maun haun the babby back
Baloo baloo ma dearie
The mither's gains the howdie's lack
Oh ilkie new born's bonnie


La Rencontre
Picturs in the peat rikk
Castles in the flame
Viaducts an factories
A warlock's ghaistie hame

Did trowies gaitherin kinnlin
Tae pit the magic there?
The rikk gaes furlin up the lum
Like Rapunzel's hair

Granny lat me see them
The dauncers bricht an reid
Bit the magic left the ingle
Fin the auld wife deid


Skeleton Faimly
Rick-ma-tick clack the skeletons' banes
A faimly ye can see throw at a glisk
The bairn is wyvin up at the meen
A vratch, a nickum, a scaffold o fite

Nae intimmers tae wye them doon
Nae wyme, nae puddens, nae hairt nae een
Nae need tae keech, cowk, pee or pyocher

The skeleton faimly's pure as Norseman's runes
Makkin their ain percussion
They daunce tae their ain tunes


The Anachronism
The cuddy maun hae lued oor street
Auld Farrant, Victorian cassies
Gas lichts an railins, a gentler wyes o leevin
An anachronism, near the hinmaist o his kind
He pued the veggie cart roon ilkie Friday
As a littlin I gaed him a heel o breid tae chaw
His muckle hairy lips, nichered ower yalla teeth

I think he missed the days o equine traffic
Tint in the steer o larries, cars an vans

Fin he keeched oot baas on the road frae his bihoochie
Neebors ran wi pails tae hairst the bounty

I sookit in his hameower horsie guff
Straikit his flank,keeked inno his midnicht een

Sivinty year an risin I'm the anachronism noo
Bumbazed in a warld that cheenges ilkie day


The Snoot
A snoot blew aff a sodjer's face
He gaed tae see the doc
The diagnosis that he got
It wis an unca shock
It's plain tae see, the medic said
I'm sure we're aa agreed
Puir snoot, yer tale's a symptom
That ye've gaen aff yer heid


Freedom o the Toun
In oor toun, yer free tae beg
Yer free tae turn yer face awa
Yer free tae drink yersel tae daith
Yer methadone is free anaa

Yer free tae wauk awa frae life
There's foodbanks fin yer pooch is teem
Yer free tae full oot umpteen forms
Tae scrape a livin on a scheme

Yer free tae fecht depression's bite
Alane up in a flechy flat
Yer free tae watch a TV screen
Scarce ony furniture bar that

Yer free tae windae shop ootside
Yer free tae wish, an nae tae get
The air ye breathe is free as weel
Fit's comin ower ye, pet?


The Cheenge
Yer ma's comin up tae the cheenge
Granminnie telt me
I wis echt year auld, dumfounert

I luikit at ma fur signs
Fin she hung oot the washin
Wid her oxters sproot green fungi?

Wid she transmogrifee inno a wirm?
A taed? A draigon?

Wid the skweel get a begeck on parent's nicht
Fin a draigon turned up blawin rikk?

Mebbe she'd cheenge tae a puddock in the kirk
Lowp intae the wee collection pyoke

Wid she ett hornygollachs fur brakkfaist
Or flee aff intae the lift like a craggy heron?

Fin her physog grew reid
An swyte brukk oot on her chikks
Like watery plooks, wid she melt aathegither
An lie on the fleer, a puddle?

A mystery aathegither, ayont a bairnie's kennin


Impermanence (3)
Ma uncle's ferm hoose wis aye weel set up
A muckle lowe aye roastin on the hairth
The windaes owerluikit kail yaird, flooers an parks
Even the family tyke wis braid in girth

His mairrage wis as ticht's a wattle fence
Twa bodies wuvven close as knittit oo
Ben ilkie sizzen, addin tae their nest
Twis clean's a preen, nae pikk o dubs or styew

The pine doors scrapit back tae nat'ral wid
The cairpets saft eneuch tae droon yer feet
The kitchie stapped wi plenishin an gear
Wi pots an ashets, jams o berries sweet

Until the roup, this hame o mony years
Wis guttit like a fish, left lanely, teem
Lowse sclates lat in the snaa, the frost, the rain
An spylin aa the wirk the pair hid daen

It bedd a wrack fur 20 years an mair
Anither couple tuik the hoose in haun
‘A money pit.' The incomers declared
‘The best o it's the view ootower the lan.'


On Yielding
Ower auld tae fecht
Ower auld tae flee
Better tae yield
An lat things be

The sonsie aik that disnae bend
Storm-strukk, is sindered at the end
Bit soople birk boos easy ower
Survives the coorsest storm's cloor


The Rowan
Ma forefowk war haley….langsyne, tae humankind
I keepit awa the onchauncy, the oorie, the fey
I brocht luck tae the new-born's cradle

In backyaird, brae or burnside
I'm a bield fur spurgies an merles
A chaumer fur mavis an yeitie

Widlan craiturs coorie intae ma sides
Cushle-mushlin saftly thegither
The deer, the bawd, the brock

Wee bairns sclimm in ma branches
I'm their playgrun
Their laidder tae the lift

In the glamourie ogloaming
The humfybackit hurcheon pammers by me
Mochs an hornygollachs leave their hidey-holes

At daybrakk lippen tae the blethers o birdies
The clishmaclavers o cheepers is pleisunt tae me
Even the lang langamachie o the whaup

Ma kinrikk is wee, bit blink-bonnie
In ma bairnhood ma jynts wir soople, swack an lythe

As I growe, I raxx ma airms tae the lift
Tae touch the meen, the starnies an the mirk

In spring I brier wi blossom, bridal fite
Late simmer, ma crammosie berries are bricht rubies

By autumn ane bi ane ma leaves doondrap
Ma weird is a birlin wheel o birth an daith

See me throw the haar: Am I nae oorie?
I am the speerit tree o the Celts LangSyne speerit


The Horseman's Wird
Ma gransire ained a ferm, a byre, a stable
He lued his Shires, his secunt faimily
Saxteen hauns heich they stude, his equine bairns

A shelt is guidit bi its sense o smell
It kens its maister bi his human guff
Ma gransire wi ae wird could gar them reist
Could quaeten flichty breets, an kent their wyes
Fin foalin, he lay doon aa nicht aside them
Whyles, a foalin happened ooto sizzen
Blin drift dingin doon, last snap o winter
There in the derk, the grun skyty wi bluid
He forkit strae tae bedd the newborn doon
Helpit it sook colostrum frae the mither's pap,
Wyted fur oors in the cauldrife back o midnicht

Cauld chawed his banes, the jeeled win claucht his briest
It wis the kistin o him, thon last foalin
His secunt faimily brocht wae tae his first
Young widdae murnin, three bairns left forehooied.