Tales Frae A Clachan: Poem In Scots Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Tales frae a Clachan
O Ballater's a bonnie place
A birdie sings in ilkie tree
An mony's the eildritch tale is telt
O myth an auncient history

Langsyne there wis a Catholic saint
Nathalan, fa intime o hairst
He cursed the rain that spyled the crap
That connached aa the ripened grain

In penitence for this great sin
He chyned his richt airm tae his shank
An flang the key intae a puil
Intae the deeps o Dee it sank

An aff tae Rome on pilgrimage
He wauked in pain an misery
An thonner in a plate o fish
Cuttin its wyme an fand the key!

His kirk o Tullich wis later used
Bi Knichts Templarfa prayed therein
The graveyaird dyke is cercular
Nae room fur Satan tae win in!

Ae Sabbath in this self same kirk
Fin winter storm fulled roads wi snaa
The meenister catched in blin drift
Wis latchy, traivellin hyne awa
The congregation in the pews,
Scunnered, bocht fuskey in tae sup
The laird, Iain Farquharson appeared
An aa drank frae the cheerin cup

A soutar took the pulpit staun
Fiddlers were socht an played wi glee
Twa weavers an three tailors sang
A blacksmith jyned the minstrelsy

John, come kiss me noo, they sang
The reel o Tullich daunce wis born
Until the meenister arrived
An cursed the drunken fowk wi scorn
An ere a year wis passed an gaen
Seeven Ritchies lay neth graveyaird stane

Across the watter, Pannanich
Spa watter scrofula could cure
As Isabella Michie fand
Even Knicht's Templar kent its pouer

Laird o Monaltrie, Farquharson
Biggt Ballater as a spa toun
Twis named Deeside's Puil o Siloam
Cured mony ills fur aa aroun

Lord Byron, an Sir Walter Scott
Ev'n Queen Victoria hersel
Aa supped the watter's roosty bree
Sic wis the lure o its fey spell

Noo fin the Black Airts cam tae mind
The castle, Abergeldie, housed
A Gordon lady, left alane
Her Lord in Fraunce wis rinnin, lowsed

Young Kitty Rankine wirkit there
The Lady socht her magic pouer
Kate took a basin, filled it up
An byled it in the heich clock touer

She saw the laird wi secunt sicht
Dauncin wi weemin, young, weel faired
Her mistress telt her Brew a storm
An droon the faithless Gordon laird

An acorn cup drapt in the bree
Turned tapsalteerie, cowped, sank doon
An on his hamewird journey, tae
The laird's ship wracked an aa did droon

The Lady turned on hapless Kate
She had her brunt on Craig nam Ban
An till this day Kate skirls an haunts
The castle o the Gordon clan

Anither Gordon biggin, Knock
Touerhoose farMuick jynes withe Dee
Wis steeped in wae, bi family feud
Weel steeped in derk ferocity

A Gordon heiress socht tae wed
The heir o Forbes o Strathgirnock
The Gordon's sivven sons wir killt
Bi Forbes, aa o their faither's stock

An on their flauchter spaads their heids
Wir set like neeps pued frae the park
An wird gaed tae the Gordon sire
Doonstairs he fell, his neck wis brakk

Noo At the Pass o Ballater,
The tinklers camped bi an auld dyke
An there the Angel kent as Daith
Aince brunt alive a traiveller's tyke

Up Craigendarroch's craggy face
Chieftain an sodjer, Gaelic bard
The ghaist o the Black Colonel rides
Fa killed young Braichlie wi his sword

Luik ower frae Ballater an see
The snawy taps o Lochnagar

The Warlock caad Auld Slorachs, there
Wis swicktit, in this lan o Mar

The challenge wis tae thaw the snaw
His rival hapt the peaks wi satt
Sae drained Auld Slorach o his pouer
An won the ither-wardly spat

Noo fur disasters: three we'll coont
The flood o eichteen twinty nine

Thon August Spate that wracked a brig
A thunner plump droont hoose an pine
A coo wis drooned left in its staa
Pigs swam like grapes pued frae the vine

Meeve on tae nineteen fifty three
Henhooses flew ower parks o snaw
The Muckle Blaw felled miles o wids
Wins connached forests hyne awa

In twentythoosan an fifteen
Storm Frank sent caravans aa sweemin
An washed the clachan near awa
Sent watter throw the hooses reamin

A rowth o wirk, an sair hertbrakk
Noo Ballater has warssled back
Amber an musical an sweet
The River Dee rins by her feet