Scots Poems: The Gas Mask Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Flimflammery
'Twis fooshty, an the emmerteens
Kerfuffled ben the byre:
Aa fearie wir the mowdiewarps,
The mochs did flee like fire.

The hornygollachs pyked their taes
The forkie snipped her dowp
A muckle bull gaed roarin roon
A Buchan fermer's rowp

An twa, three fower, an heelstergowdie
Snailies aa gaed rummlin
A peesieweep turned ootside in
Her belly it wis rummlin

A rowie skytit doon the street
Ten scaffies ran ahin her
A muckle skurry snappt her up
An cried ‘Thanks fur ma denner! '


A Wheen Scots Wirdies
Stottin is bouncing
And stappit is full
Shooglin is shaking
Scots words are so cool!

Yellae is yellow
And wersh stands for bitter
A cuddy's a horse
He's a mettlesomecritter

Emmocks are ants,
Heelstergowdie's tipped over
Drouthy is thirsty
A reiver's a robber

Sleekit is cunning
A dyeuk is a duck
If yer pookit and puir
You are down on your luck

A poke is a bag
Haud yer wheesht is shut up
Sapsy is something
That's juicy to sup

Gallus is cheeky
A crack is a chat
Cowrin is huddling
Like moose from a cat

Ettercap's spider
And pudden's dessert
Loofs are your paws
Bairns please stay alert

Raucle is bold
And fozie is rotten
Canty is kindly
What others are written?

Shilpit is puny
A bridie's a pasty
A bannock's a pancake
So warm and so tasty!

Skraik is to screech
Sneyster's roast meat
Traik is to bargain
Scran's what you eat

Pauchlin is shuffling
Teuch's something tough
Haufers are halves, bairnies
Scots is good stuff!


The Wallagoo
Ma faither-in law wis the anely ane
Tae spikk this unca wird
He caad a gype a wallagoo
A fey soun tae be heard

O did it cam frae Ozzy lan
Like a lowpin kangaroo?
Tae my begeck the wird is Scots
As Scots as Irn Bru


The Reiver Rattie
The Reiver Rattie wis nesty.
The Reiver Rat wis a deil.
He took fit he wintit an ett fit he'd taen.
His life wis ae muckle meal.

His teeth wir sherp an yalla
His mainners wir coorse an crude
An the Reiver Rattie gaed ridin -ridin - ridin -
Ridin alang the highwey
An pauchlin the traivellers' food.

A mappie cam stottin alang the road,
Syne devauled wi her loofs ower her heid,
For blockin her wey wis the Rattie,
"Haud still, " he skreiched oot, "or yer're deid!

"Gie's yer bridies and bannocks,
Yer puddens an teacakes tae!
Fur I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie,
The reivin Rattie - the thievin Rattie -
Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie
An fitiver I wint I'll hae."

"I hae nae cakes, " the mappie reponed.
"This clover is aa I can gie."
The Reiver gied her a scunnered luik.
"Haun it ower, "quo he. "Lat me see.

"This clover is shair tae be sapsy,
This clover's as wersh as can be,
But I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie,
This clover belangs tae me! "

A squirrel cam lowpin alang the road,
Syne devauled wi a shooglin chitter,
Fur there on his cuddy the Reiver Rattie
Wis thunnerin, "Staun and deliver!
"Gie's yer black bun an shortbreid!

Teem yer caramel coffers!
Fur I'm the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie,
The reivin Rat - the thievin Rattie -
Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie,
An this Rattie disnae gae haufers."

"I hae nae shortbreid, " the squirrel reponed.
"Jist a pucklie nuts in this sack."

The Reiver wheeched it awa an gurred,
"Yer sack fu o nuts I will takk!
Thon nuts, I doot, are weel past it,
Thon nuts are as hard as can be,
But I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie
An noo they belang tae me! "

Some eemocks cam creepin alang the road,
Syne devauled an cowped heelstergowdie,
Fur yellin oot, "Halt! " wis the Rattie,
Anhis mainners were raucle an rowdy.
"Gie's yer toffee an tablet,
Yer sookers, choaclits tae chaa!

Fur I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie,
The reivin Rattie - the thievin Rattie -
Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie,
An I'll nae tak a tellin at aa."

"We hae nae sweeties, " the eemocks reponed.
"We jist hae this braw green leaf."
"Nae ony mair - it's mine, " quo Rattie.
"An tae ony priggin I'm deef!

"This leaf is aa shilpit and soor.
It's as pookit an puir as can be.
Bit I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie,
An this leaf belangs tae me! "

Wi niver a please or a thank ye,
The Rattie gaed on ilkie day.
Flees fae an ettercap!
Milk fae a cat!
He aince chored his ain cuddy's hey!

The craiturs that traivelled the highwey
Grew thinner an thinner an thinner,
Whyle the Reiver Rattie turned creashie an fat
Fae ettin up aabody's denner.

A dyeuk cam plappin alang the road,
Then devalued wi a "Foo's yer doos? "
I see ye hae naethin tae eat, " Rattie girned.
"Sae insteid I will hae tae ett you!

I doot ye'll be dried oot an drouthy.
I doot ye'll be teuch as a tree,
"Bit I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie,
The reivin Rattie - the thievin Rattie -
Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie,
An I fancy a dyeuk for ma tea! "

"Haud yer wheesht, "dyeukie quackit,
"for ma sister has sneysters ye'd savour.
I ken that she's keen fur a crack wi yersel,
An I'm shair that ye'd like tae meet her.

Awa in her cave, her deep derk cave,
At the tap o the knowe, richt noo,
Are puddens an pieces a-plenty,
And there ye can ett till ye're fu."

"Lead on! " skirled the Rattie, they took tae the road,
On the back o the cuddy thegither.
Up gaed the road wi nae eyn in sicht -
Jist ae neuk efter anither.

At last they cam tae a lanely cave,
An the dyeukie began tae quack.
She quackit, "Guid day tae ye, sister -
sister - sister - "
An... "Sister, sister, sister..."
A voyce fae the cave cam back.

"D'ye hae ony cakes an choaclits? "
The thievin Reiver cried.
An, "Choaclits! Choaclits, choaclits..."
The voyce fae the cave reponed.

"I'm comin tae tak them! " the Reiver skraiked.
His gutsy een grew roon.
An "Tak them! Tak them, tak them..."
Returned the walcam soon.

The Rattie lowped aff his cuddy.
Intae the cave he strode.
The dyeuk took a haud o the cuddy's reins
An galloped alang the road.

Roon the neuks an doon the brae
Past bonnie mountain scenes,
The gallus wee dyeuk gaed ridin -ridin - ridin -
Gallopin doon the highwey,
Back tae her stervin freens.

Syne they shared oot the scran fae the saddle pyokes
An dined the lee-lang nicht.
Lood wis the music an lood the sangs,
An the bonfire's lowe bleezed bricht.
Wud wis the meenlicht dauncin,
Canty the crack and cheer,
For noo that the Reiver Rattie wis gane
They were free fae herm an fear.

An as fur the Rattie in the cave,
He skraiked an traiked until...
He fand his wey ooto the derkness,
On the tither side o the hill.

A sleekit, coorin, Rattie,
He reives on the road nae mair,
Fur he's taen a job in a cake shop -
A cake shop - a cake shop -
An they say he aye wirks in the cake shop,
Swypin the cake shop flair.


The Hoast
Snocherin, pyocherin hocher an hoast
A bibbly snoot as weel
A thrapple like sandpaper scrapit wi grit
At night, ye squirn like an eel

Ye cann a breathe an yer breast is sair
Yer een are watterin tae
Ochone fur an eyn tae Januar's blast
An a gweed gaun Springtime day

Ne'er cast a cloot till Mey be oot
It's the sizzen o caulds an gobs
Fur a winter hoast gaes on an on
In slivvers, bibbles an blobs



Scots Owersett o a Shipment tae Maidanek, by Ephim Fogel
Cam frae hyne aff touns, a rowth o lans
Intact frae sea lan, Ben lan, an leys

Item: sax saw-banes, slichtly hurtit hauns
Item: three bards, eeselessly wud
Item: a Russian mither an her bairn
The former wi five gowd teeth an eeseless sheen
The latter wi sivven dresses, fermin styled

Item: anither hunner thoosan Jews

Item: a cripplit Czech wi a haun vrocht crutch
Item: a Spaniard wi a subversive lauch
Siventeen dizzen Danes, nine gross o Dutch

Total: exack a million an a hauf

They are redd up an merked- the wey is up tae yersel
The buiks maun be balanced, the disposition statit
Takk tent that aa accoonts are snod an true

Makk siccar they are aathegither brunt



Scots Owersett o Wee Sang o the Skaithed bi Benjamin Péret
Len me yer airm
Tae replace ma shank
The rattens ett it fur me
At Verdun
At Verdun
I ett a heeze o rattens
Bit they didnae gie me back ma shank
An thon's fu I wis gien the Croix de Guerre
An a widden shank
A widden shank



Scots Owersett o Fit Wir they Like? Bi Denise Leverton
Did the fowk o Vietnam
Use lanterns o stane?
Did they haud ceremonies
Tae revere the brierin o buds?
Did they lauch, quaet like?
Did they makk eese o bane, ivory
Jade an siller fur ornament?
Hid they an epic poem?
Did they differ atween spikk an sang?

Maister, their licht hairts turned tae stane
It's nae myndit gin in gairdens
Stane lanterns lichtit their pleisunt weys
Mebbe they gaithered aince tae delicht in blossom
Bit eftir the bairns wir killt
There wir nae mair buds
Maister, lauchter is wersh tae a brunt mou
A dream, syne, mebbe. Ornament is fur blitheness
Aa the bairns wir birssled
It isnae myndit. Forbye
Maist wir fermers, their life
Wis in rice an bamboo
Fin peaceful clouds wir refleckit in the paddies
An the watter buffalo steppit siccar alang terraces
Mebbe faithers telt their loons auld tales
Fin bombs brukk thin keekin glaisses
There wis anely time tae skirl
There's an echo yet
O their spikk that wis like a sang
It wis reportit their singin wis like
The flicht o mochs in meenlicht
Fa can say? It's seelent noo



A Scots Owersett o At Vshchizh by Fyodor Tyutchev (1803-1873)
Eftir the stooshie an the bluid
Hid deed, hid dried
Seelence unpickit its history
A heeze o howpies, on them
A boorich o aiks. They spreid
Their braid, unmindfu glamourize
Ower the unheard rumour o thon deid
An reeshle thonner, reetit on wrack
Aa natur's kennin
Is tae bide unkennin-
Oors tae confess bumbazement
Dreamt-oot bi her
Oor years are ghaists in their camin- gaen
Her random seed
Spreid tae their fruitless weird, she syne
Regaithers them
Intae thon peace aa history maun feed


A Scots Owersett o The Sleeper in the Glen VII, by Arthur Rimbaud
The swallt glen sang ben the green hole
An wudly hyeuked tae tatterwallops on the girse
Licht fulled the hett howes. The hale
Glen bubbled wi sunbeams like a beer-glaiss

The conscript wis gap-moued; his bare heid
An thrapple swam in the blae watter cress
He sleepit. The noon soothed his wechtiness
Sunlicht wis rainin inno his green bed

An bakit the hurts frae his corp, rowed
As a skaithed bairrn micht bosie itsel asleep
Och natur, rock him warm, he is cauld

The flooers nae langer makk his het teen greet
The river sooks his hair. His blae een rowes
He slepps. In his richt side are twa reid holes


Drumneachie Ferm (One of the Best Scottish Poems2019)
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


A Puckle Scottish Proverbs
A bird in the haun is wirth ten fleein.
A fu purse niver lacks friens
A gweed tale niver tires in the tellin
Ay bide within yer means

A leear should hae a gweed memory
A licht purse makks a heavy hairt
Aa's weel that eyns weel
Dinna cowp the aipple cairt

A rich chiel's wooin is nae aften lang
Feels mak feasts an wyce fowk eat them
He that lives on hope his a slim diet
The wyce makk jokes and feels repeat them.

Ye'll bide lang barfit wytin fur deid men's sheen
Mony cooks ne'er made gweed kail
Never show your teeth unless you can bite
Keep yer thochts tae yersel

A wyce lawyer niver gaes tae law himsel
Be blythe fin yer leevin yer a lang time deid
Gin wishes wir horses beggars wid rise
He's licked the butter frae ma breid

Better be alane than in bad company.
Birds o a feather flock thegither.
Ye can makk a kirk or a mill o it
Teem tabards like tae blether
Gin ye teach yersel ye've a gype fur a maister
The cure micht be waur than the disease
Time an tide wyte on nae man
A rich wife's ill tae please

Fin ae yett sticks, anither ane opens.
Fin the wine sinks syne wirds sweem
Nae silk purse cams frae a soo's lug
It costs nae siller tae dream

Ye should jist keep yer braith tae cweel yer parritch
There's aye watter far a stirkie droons
Oor Auld Scots proverbs'll keep ye richt
A saft haun rears coorse loons


3 Scots owersetts o Poems bi Michaelangelo Buonarroti

Love's flame doth feed on age._
Gin some mild warmth o luve in youth confessed
Kinnles a fresh hairt wi faist birddlin fire,
Fit will the dunt be o a flame mair dire
Steeked up inby an auld chiel's cinnery breist?
Gin the mere loss o raxxin years hae pressed
Sae sair that smeddum, force, an virr aa maun tire,
Foo shall he fare fa maun ere lang expire,
Fin tae auld age is added luve's unrest?
Dweeble's masel, he will be furled awa
Like stoor bi wins kind in their cruelty,
Reivin the ugsome wirm o its last prey.
A teenie flame consumed an fed on me
In ma green age: noo that the timmer's dry,
Fit hope agin this fire mair fierce hae I?


On Peintin the Sistine Chapel
I've grown a goitre bidin in this den -
As cats frae stanks o burns in Lombardy,
Or in fit ither land they chaunce tae be -
That drives the stammache close aneth the chin:

Ma beard turns up tae heiven; ma nape faas in
Drapt on ma spine: ma breist-bane veesibly
Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery
Skitters ma face frae brush-dreeps, thick and thin.

My hochs intae ma kyte like levers grind:
My dowp some like like a crupper bears ma wecht;
Ma feet unguided wanner back an fore;

In front ma skin grows lowse an lang; ahin,
Bi booin it becams mair ticht an straicht;
Crosswise I raxx me like a Syrian bow:
Sae fause an fey, I ken,
Maun be the fruit o squintin harns an ee;
Fur ill can aim the gun that boos skweejee.
Cam syne, Giovanni, try
Tae succour ma deid picturs an ma fame;
Since fool I fare an peintin is ma shame.

Brawness an the artist
A hairt o flamin sulphur, flesh o towe,
Banes o dry timmer, sowel wioot a guide
Tae stap the fiery will, the brierin pride
O strang desires, fraepassions flown awa;
An sichtless harns, sae dweeble, cripplit aa
Mids snares an pitfaas skittered hyne an wide; -
Fit winner gin the first chaunce brand applied
Tae fuel massed like this should makk it braw?
Add bonnie art, which, brocht wi us frae heiven,
Will conquer natur; - sae divine a pouer
Belangs tae him fa tcyauves wi ilkie nerve.
Gin I wis vrocht fur art, frae bairnhood gien
A prey fur burnin brawness tae devour,
I blame the mistress I wis born tae serve.