Scots Poems There's No Cow On The Ice Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Contents
3.There's no Cow on the Ice, Elegy in April
4.Union Street Beggar, The Makkie-on Indian
5-9 Eight Scots Owersetts of poems by young Native American writers
9.Three snaps of a Pairish, Wee Byron
10-11 Welcome to Paradise, National Unicorn Day (9/4/22)
11.The Deeside Witches
13-14 Deeside Heilan Games, The Eccentric Landlady
15-24 Poems written at Dhanakosa: 15th-21st April 2022















The Makkie-on Indian
At sax year auld I dowped on the kitchie fleer
Pretendin tae be an Indian

Granminnie's pued the feathers
Frae the pheasant da shot yestreen
She will glue them ontae a cut oot cardboord band

I pit it on. I am Sittin Bull, Geronimo, Cochise

The pheasant is deid
It has nae need noo o feathers
Later, we'll ett its flesh

We'll pyke oot the pellets
Frae the birdie's breist
Gamey an tasty,
Wi tatties a richt braw feast


The following Scots Owersetts are of 8 poems in the Anthology When the Rain Sings, by young Native American writers, who were inspired by artefacts from the collection of the Smithsonian's National Museum of the American Indian (NMAI)

1. Onchauncy (the life I wish I niver had) Kelly Ahles, aged 12 (Chippewa) North Dakota. Inspired by Ojibwe (Chippewa) birchbark playin cairds
The coorse warld I bide in
A mither wi diabetes
Still wytin fur a cure
A faither near tae cancer
Aye smokin, canna gie up
A sister wi asthma
Still a chyne smoker tae this day
A brither wi special larnin needs
Still fechtin tae larn mair

Sune eneuch the time will cam
Fin they aa step intae anither warld
An a time will cam
Fin I gae hame tae ma family
An ae day thon'll be the eyn o us
Till the daybrakk o gweed luck cams


2. I luik at Ye bi Kelly Hill, age 16, Minnesota
Inspired bi the photo o an Ojibwe(Chippewa) chiel
I luik at ye an ma harns drift back tae
A time o peace an honesty
A time fin aa oor fowk
Spakk oor native leid
An wir prood tae tae weir
Eagle feathers an beads
A time o dauncin an giein thanks
Fur aa that Mither Eirde
Gaed tae oor fowk:

Buffalo that reenged the leys
Fish that swam in the caller blue burns an lochs
Trees that oor canoes wir biggit frae
Shelts oor fowk rade
Natural spring watter, pure an cauld
Berries, reets an bulbs grown in rich yird
Stanes fowk made eese o tae scoor hides
Stanes oor fowk vrocht tae makk arra tips
Syne I wish oor fowk had thon time again
A time o peace an honesty
A time o honour


3. Auncient Wyes bi Elvania Toledo aged 9 (Navajo)
Inspired bi a photie o a Navajo silversmith, New Mexico
They're traditional
They aince bedd in a hogan
Bit noo they bide in a trailer
They aince bedd in a clachan
Bit noo they bide in a neeborhood
They aince herdit yowes
Bit noo they veesit the grocery store
They aince wauked
Bit noo they hurl in cars
The faither telt his dother
‘Times are cheengin'

4.Burnin Lan bi Daisha Jim aged 9 (Navaho)
Staney fite Bens
On tap o the warld
Fowk waukin tae the lift
Flooers watchin

The Michty Gods are hunkered
In the clouds
‘wauk faister, the lan is burnin'
They say


5. Is it ‘I am' or ‘My Name' bi Josie Frye aged 17
(Tohono o'odham, Arizona)
Ma nemme belongs tae a deid fite woman. Foo did it get doon tae me?
I dinna ken. Josephine. Disnae suit me. It his nae meanin.
Bit I hae a meanin, a meaning fur lauchter
Like a feather o an erne bein tappit ower a bairn's body fur blissin.
The bairn lauchs.
I am a meanin, a meanin fur smeddum
Like a feather o the erne bein tappit ower ma gransire's body
Fur blissin. Ma gransire fa is a warrior.
I am a meanin, a meanin o douceness
Like a feather o the erne tappit ower ma mither's body
Fur blissin. Ma mither is a heroine.
I am a meanin, a meanin
O a birthmark
Like a feather o the erne
Bein tappit ower ma body
Fur blissin. Ma nemme is Spottit Feather.
Nae jist ma nemme, it's fa I am.


6. Clouds bi Kris Holmes aged 11 (Hopi) Arizona
Ilkie time I luik at the clouds
They're aywis meevin east.
I Wistelt that the great speerits
O the katsinas an oor forefaithers
Are on thon clouds
Makkin their journey
An gaun back tae the third warld


7. Bein Indian bi Dana Mathias aged 14 (Tohono O'odham) (Arizona)
Bein Indian is bein prood
An blythe fur fa ye are
Derk skin an hair
That makk the fite fowk glower
Bidin in a clachan
Wi yer kin
Makkin siccar the desert still briers
Keepin yer heid up
Makkin siccar naebody lats ye doon
Because yere unca prood
O fa ye are
Because ye're Indian



8. Ma Daddy nemmed me A-dae by Vena A-dae Romero aged 16 (Cochito-Kiowa, Albuquerque)
A-dae, aabody aywis caad me
Wee, creashie A-dae
Fa weirs her hose tae her triple fauldit knees
Muckle-babby, cam ower!

Aabody held me
Nippit ma chikks, ettled tae makk me smile
Ma da wis ma best likit
Ma da nemmed me A-dae

He hid hauns that wippit roon me
Fauldit ower the affront
Fauldit ower the doctors fa said I nott a diet
I wis ower big fur a three year auld

She's a Kiowa babby
Kiowa babbies are aywis hefty
She's nae hefty onywye, jist stappit wi Indian pouer
She's gonna be the neist Kiowa princess
Dae ye nae ken?

A-dae, they cried. A-dae, A-nicht
I aywis stude by him
Even fin the glent dwined frae his een
Fin tubes an machines grew like vines

Coma, the same doctor telt us
Na, jist a wee nap
He hisnae meeved fur wikks
Na, dwaumin is hard tae brakk frae

He forgot foo tae makk his tongue spikk
Foo tae makk his mou grow
Foo tae makk craiturs push frae his thrapple
He myndit A-dae

I telt him ‘I lue ye, da.'
He waggit his haun like he held a rattle
A-dae, A-hope
He fuspered (throw his skin)
‘Niver drink like me, A-dae
Ma daddy wis ma favourite
Specially fin he said ‘A-dae, ma Kiowa Princess! '


Three snaps of a pairish
The linn draps doon, a thunnerin feary drap
Intae a puil as broon as burgundy
Abune, trees riven in a recent gale
Are felled like kinnlin, cowpit aa skweejee
They lean o siblins, reets heich in the air
Snaggit on clouds far mists furl oorily

Hauf up Glen Gairn the yowes staun chawin girse
Their dowps dyed green, tae shaw they hae bin tupped
Twa rams wi dubby baas watch ower their wives
Neist year, the lambs they faithered will be drapped

It's winter, bit the clachan steers wi fowk
Steerin alang the streets in fleecy gear
An fur trimmed buits an hoods tae keep them hett
The snaa bides aff, a wee pug dug luiks sweir
Tae brave the cauld, an dreepin on the fleer
O nearhaun cafes, jaikets slung ower seats
Far towrists snap up scones an sic like treats
The windaes steamin up wi braith an rikk
An aa the while the snaa faas, furlin thick


Wee Byron
Wee Byron aged eicht wis an ill trickit loon
Spyled bairns are knickums, are uppity, prood
At Ballaterich three simmers he bedd bi the Dee
A spyled bairn aye wints mair than ony bairn should

He dooked in the Pollach burn, frichtened Glen Tanar
Spyled bairns are knickums, are uppity, prood
Fariver he traivelled he caued a mishanter
A spyled bairn aye wints mair than ony bairn should

In a heather-filled box-bed his dreamin tuik wings
Spyled bairns are knickums, are uppity, prood
The son o a Lord, wi the bluid o Scots Kings
A spyled bairn aye wints mair than ony bairn should

Fowk snibbit his yett fin they saw him cam near
Spyled bairns are knickums, are uppity, prood
Fur the laddie thocht naethin o brakkin fowks' gear
A spyled bairn aye wints mair than ony bairn should

Lochnagar's peaks he lued, screived a sang in their name
Spyled bairns are knickums, are uppity, prood
He niver forget them, despite aa his fame
Even a vratch has a skirpie o good


National Unicorn Day (9/4/22)
A unicorn bides at the Back o Beyond
At the fit o a wattergaw
His horn is gowd an his hide is fite
As fite as the driven snaa
He's friens wi a kelpie frae Pottie's Brig
An whiles they flee thegither
Frae Aviemore tae Isla's shore
Back tae Grampian's braes o heather
The unicorn traivels bi thunner an cloud
Tae star in mony's a buik
Ye'll see him on film an TV screen
Ye winna hae far tae luik

He's the personal pet o the Fairy Queen
An bairns takk him tae hairt
Sic braw adventures the unicorn has
He lets aa wee bairns takk pairt!


The Deeside Witches: based on an article by Dr Sheila Sedgewick
The Deeside Witches daunced on Craiglash Hill
The coven covered Coull, Cloak an Findrack
Torphins an Abergeldie, derk Glen Dye
Kincardine o'Neil, the Girnoc an Blelack

The warlock, Colin Massie, led their ploys
Could cheenge intae a bawd tae suit his will
His secunt in command, kent as the Maiden
Wis steeped in auncient rite an eildritch spell

The coven meltit doon deid babies' fat
Wi bats' bluid, belladonna, foxglove, steered
An aff they'd flee upon their darksome darg
Keepin the kintrafowk foriver feared

A horse-shee wis nailed gainst a byre door
Or rowan branch tae keep the Deil awa
Reid threid aroon the wrists, cots peintit green
Wir puir defences, near wirth nocht awa

A witch could makk a coo's milk dry richt up
Could spyle the ale, meeve hinney frae a hive
Takk fish frae nets, makk curses, an luve potions
The best cure wis tae roast the witch alive

The Deeside coven keepit fey familiars
Taeds, futterats for their pliskies infernal
Vrocht images in clay wi the nail clippins
Or hair cut frae their victims, tae enthral


Lumphanan's Margaret Clark hid pouers strang
Tae takk awa fowks' conscious liberty
She paraleezed them, turned them stiff as stane
Wi ae keek o her witch's Evil ee

Helen Rogie, terror o Findrack
Fa cursed ae fermer's family, wide her fame
Bit unner torture she confessed tae aa
At Craigour Hill they fed her tae the flame

Tarland's wizard rid the place o tinkers
He socht the Deil tae cut apairt a cheese
An fin the kebbuck it wis claucht in twa
Oot flew a heeze o twa-stanged killer bees
That chased the tinkers hyne ower aa the howes
Aa ower the hedder braes o Cromar's knowes

French Kitty Rankine, Abergeldie's witch
Raised storms bi mummlin an incantation
‘I knock this cloot upon a stane
Tae raise the win in ma Maister's name
It shall not lie till I please again.'

(her secunt sicht had lat her mistress ken
The laird at houghmagandie had bin playin
An Kitty raised a storm tae cowp his ship
An droon him in the boddom o the ocean)

They burned the bonnie quine on Craig nam Ban
An on a quaet night her skirls ring oot
Clear as they did the nicht the fire claimed
Her as its ain, its reid airms wrapped aboot

At Halloween, Balmoral fowk rigged up
A tattiebogle, named it Shandy Dan
Accusin it o witchcraft, burned it heich
Wi pipin, feastin, dauncin on the lan

Bit there wir cures agin Satanic wyes
Makk Cornus Manatu- the Deevil's horns
Or drinkin watter frae a rinnin burn
Far deid an leevin hid passed coontless morns

An there bi meenlicht, cast in siller coins
Blessed bi the Trinity, Auld Nick tae scorn

Noo gin ye sikk deep larnin o Blaik Airts
Luik fur a buik o shaddas, a grimoire
An Malleus Maleficarum, guide tae torture
As warnin agin in steppin in ower far!


Deeside Heilan Games: performed at Ballater Highland Games annual dinner
Scotland has an Eden caad Deeside
Far Celtic wyes are practised an respeckit
Ballater, Abyne, Lonach, Braemar
The games o oor forefaithers, re-enactit

In August Ballater's the place tae be
Monaltrie Park is thrang wi fowk competin
Frae aa the airts auld friens return tae jyne
Thegither, takk a dram the tryst tae sweeten

See Craigendarroch far the rinners pech
See Ritchies, Frasers, Elricks an the lave
An mebbe ghaistly forefaithers rise up
Black Colonel luikin up frae yont the grave

Tae watch the reel o Tulloch daunced wi grace
Wi Sheridans an Farqharsons lang deid
An whyles a local chieftain daunders by
Wi eagle's feathers proodly on his heid

The bairns delicht tae watch fowk tilt the bucket
Fin I wis wee I raced aroon thon ring
Bit ay cam last an won a cheer fur tryin
Braw Ballater, sic memories ye bring!

The Royal Pairty in the Royal Box
Enjoys Braemar, Balmoral bein near
Dame Judy Dench an sic celebrities
Aside the locals as pairt o the steer
Kenneth McAlpine in his Mar Estate
First danced the victory o the Heilan fling
His upraised hauns the branches o the stag
The bold and warlike Kenneth Heilan fling
Abyne wis far ma faither met his fowk
Steerin inbye fae Tarland, Birse, East Mains
An ithers frae the wider warld wir seen
Kenya, New Zealand, Canada, wide plains

O USA. An aa the while the pipes
Melled wi the stoon o stallies' swingboat tunes
Warm beer, hett fusky, burgers, candyfloss
An mony a luver's tryst o quines an loons

Lonach wis stertit bi Sir Charles Forbes
Tae please S trathdon in echteen twenty three
Twa hunner cheils in tartan haudin pikes
Merch sax miles roon the acres gallantly

A cairtie cams ahin for ony man
Owercam wi wearieness or drams ower mony
A aa this global warmin sunstroke micht
Wi wechty tartans, shorten thon gran journey


The Eccentric Landlady
Meg Gray keepit a ludgin hoose
Wi a hen that bed in a pram
Fin fowk complained she telt them striacht
Twis a ludger afore ye cam

A chiel fell doon her gairden well
Nae warned that it wis thonner
Could ye nae faa somewye else? She speired
Wi a face as blaik as thunner

A sheep whyles sat afore the fire
Takk in aa the heat tae itsel
Anither ludger….it niver pyed
Bit if ye rang the bell
Her birse wid rise, she'd gar ye wyte
Till the ice froze ower hell


A nameless woman
A Scots owersett of a poem by Noh Ch'Onmyong from an English translation by Ko Won

I wint tae be a nameless woman
Hyne oot on a smaa ben
Wi gourd vines on the reef o ma sheilin
Pumpkins an cucumbers in a hemp-gairden
The meen socht intae ma yaird
Ower a palin vrocht o roses
An ma airms fu o starnies
The hoolet hootin derk winna makk me lanesome
In a clachan far the train niver devauls
Eetin millet cake sypit in a braisse bowl
Spikkin wi a close frien till late at night
Aboot the secrets o the tod-hauntit Bens
Fin a hudderie tyke bowfs at the meen
I'll be blyther than ony queen


At Dhanakosa
The birks are clouds o grey atween the laricks
The loch is herringbone tweed lang steeped in peat
A willie wagtail lowps frae moss tae palin
A chaffie tweets frae a saugh, smaa sangster swete

Bees are bizzin roon stauns o gowden daffies
The yalla gorse bides safe in its plaid o thorns
The broos o the soarin Bens are scoored wi coories
A ragin yowe stamps, shakkin her burly horns


A saftsome win blaws caimbin the broon loch watter
Kerplunk, a trootie lowps in a siller brig
Sping in Balquhidder hame o deer an otter
Fin ilkie bird is seekin a nest tae thigg

Luely luely the waves at the lochside lappin
Copper bracken's happin a tod's derk den
The baa o a lamb's the soun o new life chappin
Opening the yea resurrect the glen

I think it's wrang
Ma faither's gear ootlived him
Bit things hae nae loyalty
Things are onybody's, fur a sang
I forget faces
Fowk fa mind on me, I sune forget
Bittie bi bittie
Aathing is slidin
Throwe memory's net


Watter
Fit is this cweelness that slips doon
Ma thrapple, a descendin thrill
This shapeless ageless thing that takks
The makk o each receptacle?

This thing the priestly use tae bless
An calm the sufferer in distress
The lift doondraps it frae the wild
A faain wunner, undefiled