The Owl Hour (9 Scots Poems, A Scots Cantata) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.Africa Africa

Fower doors ben, new neebors.
Immigrants. Black Africans.
Foo are they fittin in?

Wytin fur the bus, he nods an grins
Like he wints tae hug ye
Like he'd gie ye his last penny

Ten meenits pass. Naebody's brukken the ice,
An the bus, late.
He's hummin, bumming awa in African
Swingin back an forrit on his heels
Like his jynts are swackenet bi ile.

Rain dreeps frae the reef doon knife-scoored glaiss
Naebody cracks a smile.

Sabbath brings a line o limousines tae their front door
Compatriots poor oot like movie stars
Like it's a weddin...pittin on the style
Wi hats an lipstick, jewellery, shiny sheen
Their hale hoose shakks wi joyfu celebration

`At home, our meeting place might be a tree
In some back yard. Your churches here are lovely
Why are all the worshippers so old? '

Trauchlin up the braeheid in the derk
Wechtit wi eerins, ilkie step a thocht
I spied twa teenagers come skippin doon
The verra age that like tae gie ye lip
Or waur. I cooriet in tae let them by..
`Madam, would you like we carry those? '
Polite, respeckfu, ....I wis fair dumfounert
Africa, Africa....halflins wi guid mainners?
They hinna cottoned ontae British wyes..


2.Three Classmates

At thirty, Ian wore a sodjer's sark
The local weemin focht tae win, tae date him.
Shined his buits tae perfection, liked a pint.
Served in Iraq, bit niver met Saddam
Flew ower tae Thailand fur some R an R.
Sippit exotic cocktails on the beach.
A wave ate him.

John hid in librars, tint hissel in buiks
He'd the luik o a frichtit armadillo
Grat oceans inno his pillow, had weet dreams
Nae live lass socht him till he tuik up law.
His life acquired a savour.
The scales o justice tilted in his favour.

Neil, the classroom gowk, wad swear and fart.
His school report card said, 'Neil lacks application'
He had a ping-pong mind, a gallus air.
A trolley-pusher for the NHS, he's a heid bummer noo
Sometimes by accident, life gets ye there.


3.The Dauncin Piper:
in memory of David Low: tune, Whistle Ower the Lave o't

March an fling, strathspey an jig
Even the waves aneth the brig
Lowped in time. Sae blithe an trig
Wis the Dauncin Piper.

Lear that ye dinna learn in skweel
Broon an Nicol taught him weel
Royal the lilt in ilkie reel
Played bi the Dauncin Piper.

Nae at Isla or Strathmore
Ower the fermlans o Kintore
Did ye hear the Ceol Mor
0 the Dauncin Piper?

He wis diddlin in his cot
Tunes aince heard he ne'er forgot
Naethin could caa him aff his stott
Garioch's Dauncin Piper.

Fin he wore the scholar's sark
Inverurie set its mark
On the chiel - the life and wark
O the Dauncin Piper.

Served wi Gordons' sodjer band
Stinch tae their motto o Bydand
Fa wis the finest in the Land?
Low, the Dauncin Piper

Tcyauved wi halflins ithers shun
Fu o virr wis he and fun
Harns an hairts war easy won
Bi the Dauncin Piper;

Dee as ye'll telt an ye'll be fine
Thon war the wirds his pupils myne
Teachers wi flair are ill tae tyne
Like the Dauncin Piper.

He brocht cheer tae mony's the bride
Swallin Scottish briests wi pride
Maestro o fair Urie-side
Wis the Dauncin Piper.

Hawks aneth Fyvie's castle waa
Hung in the air tae hear him blaw
Even the skreichin hoodie craa
Lued the Dauncin Piper.

Ay the kilt wis his delicht
Kittlit mony's the Ceilidh nicht
Even Auld Clootie lued the sicht
O the Dauncin Piper.

Music, his passport ower the seas
Canada, Sydney, he could please.
Fowk roon the far Antipodes
Thrilled bi the Dauncin Piper

On the brods the lassies staun
Sword an scabbard in the haun
Kennin the music will be gran
Fae the Dauncin Piper.

Sae, MacCrimmons, greet yer fier
Pipin's tint its maister here
Set a place an nae be sweir
For the Dauncin Piper.


4.The Road I didna Takk owersettin from 'The Road not Taken' by Robert Lee Frost

Twa roads forkt aff fae a yalla wid
Sair I sikkit tae traivel baith
A gyangin fit, yet bide I did
Glowert doon ane as far as I cwid
Tae far it booed in the girsy swathe.

Syne tuik the tither, as jist as braa
An likely haein the better claim
As it wis girssy, nae worn ava
Tho as for thon, feet braid an sma
Hid trod the baith o them near the same.

An baith thon foreneen equally lay
In leaves nae step hid trampit black
I keepit the first fur anither day
Yet kennin foo wyes gang aft agley
Dooted that ever I wad come back.

I shall be telling o this wi a sigh
Ages syne as an auld greybeard
Twa roads forkt in a wid an I
I tuik the ane that less gyang by
Yon wis the choice that cheenged ma weird


5.This Braif Toun: Cantata based on the battle o Harlaw
Words by Sheena Blackhall Music by James D. Reith.

Eerily, wearily rins the tide, washin the shores o a Norlan Toun
Up in the sky far starnies bide, sleeps the meen in her siller goun.

Doon the derkness the Northern Lichts cast their magic on crest an flag Stepping ooto their civic frame, city unicorn, leopard, stag.

Sae in a nicht o stars an frost, the market cross like a caunle shines
The unicorn stag an leopard lowp ootower the city's streets an wynds

They're the heralds o history tellin tales o bluid an sword
Provost an tradesmen marched tae save Aiberdeen fae the Heilan horde


Song of the Civic Beasts

A unicorn's hame is the cauld an weet,
The hurly-burly o spire an street
Wi the skirlin gull an the cushie doo..
`Neigh' say I an the doo says `Croo'

Aa the gossip an sklaik we hear,
Tittle-tattle fae far an near
Me, the gull an the cooshie doo..
`Neigh' say I an the doo says `Croo'

Fa's bin pilferin...fa's bin hired.
Fa's bin promoted an fa's bin fired
The gull finds oot, he's first in the queue..
`Neigh' say I an the doo says `Croo'

Quarrymen, ploomen, fisher brides,
We can tell far aabody bides
Enter a provost's parlour noo..
`Neigh' say I an the doo says `Croo.'


Provost an Wife

Foo can ye deal wi council ploys,
Kennin the morn ye lead the Trades
Oot fae the toun tae fecht the foe,
The Heilan horde wi their tartan plaids?

Wheesht guid wife wad ye hae them come
Intae the toun tae raid us aa?
Merchin ahin their pipes an drums?
I maun meet them at Reid Harlaw.

Ye're the provost sir, bide at hame,
Send the Trades tae the sodjers' game.
Cauld's the promise o praise an fame,
Tae greetin widows that sleep alane.

I could never sit quaet an see
Heilan armies bi Don an Dee
Pledges come wi the provost's goun.
I maun buckle tae save the toun.


Tradesmen and Wives

Oh husbands maun ye leave us
Tae learn the arts o war?
There's breid an bannocks on the plate
There's whiskey in the jar.

We've set doon the fishin net
The haimmer an the saw
We maun face the enemy
Campin at Harlaw

Oh husbands ye hae bairnies
That need a faither near
Nae cairriet tae the kirkyaid
Upon a sodjers' bier.

Ye maun wirk the leather, wives,
Makkin doublets braw
Keep the shuttles weavin.
We're merchin on Harlaw.


The Leopard an the Ladv

Lady sittin by the fireside
I bring cheer an sorra baith
For yer husband, oor dear Provost,
Noo maun fill a sodjers' grave

Oh how peacefu is his visage!
Sae he could be sleepin soun
Never mair tae smile or please me,
Aa tae succour this braif toun

Lady sittin by the fireside
He will live in sang an tale
For he chose a hero's endin,
Martyred by the plunderin Gael.

Nevermair fin springtime breezes
Pairt the buds on ilkie tree
Will he walk, ma ain sweet luver,
Bi the bonnie banks o Dee

Oh tae never hear his fitstep,
Oh tae never ken his touch
Aa tae gain a city's freedom.
We hae won..an lost sae much!


Haar

The haar creeps up fae the herbour waa
The days drain doon tae the lees
The smush that lies in the braid North Sea
Is the banes o history.


6.Sculpture In Granite: commissioned for a film on the granite industry

Aiberdeen is the granite toun
Her crest is carved in the brigs aroon
Granite sculpture's in square and street
Far grace an glitter o mica meet

College an hoose in granite claes
Will thole the weather for centuries
Gray lion guairds the Cowdray Hall
Oor stern war memorial.

Challengin win an rain an sleet
Granite thrives on the wild an weet
Ice may bite, storm howl aroon
Granite's the armour o the toun

George, Duke o Gordon's civic lair's
A plinth on busy Golden Square
Watchin the warld gae by, as grand
As ony Pharoah in the sand
First Colonel o that name weel-kent
The Gordon Highland regiment

Twa hunner years this granite womb
0 Rubislaw gaed steens for tomb,
For bank an hooses. Its grey sheen
Shines oot frae hauf o Aiberdeen.

A platform, heich's an eagle's eyrie
Owerlooks a drap baith deep an fearie
The weety quarry boddom lies
A mirror for the passin skies
Five hunner feet's a lang wye doon
Tae the green watter at the foun.

The Blondin ropeway through the air
Heists blocks o granite frae their lair.
By Rubislaw quarry, fu' o' soun
The granite wirkers mill aroon
Far crans uplift each muckle slab
That drillers, syne, can catch an grab
Tae howk holes oot by force an shock
Then, haimmer pegs tae split the block

At granite yaird mair steens await
The larry drivin through the gate
A heavy chyne can easy lift
The slabs, tae start anither shift

A white hett flame, a metal spark
Goggles an blow torch set tae wark
Tae cut teeth inno the sharp blade
An sae a frame saw's quickly made
Then back an fore a muckle saw
Eats oot, wi its unceasin jaw
A block that's smeethed wi weet an friction
Unner a wirker's close inspection

The frame saw wi abrasive teeth
Its steel blade cuts the steen aneth
As fine steel grit wi watter's fed
Intae the groove, bi craftsmen led

Hear the machines that crank an whirr
The watter spray, the constant birr
A saw that's circular an quick
Wi diamond tips cut straicht an slick
Tackles the thinner slabs of steen
Timmerin on till job is dane.

The blocks of granite noo are braced
For masons' haimmer, chisel faced
Each uncut surface, noo, tae form
Buildin or gravesteen tae adorn
Clatter o mallet strikin' steel
Chisel an sculptor wirkin weel

The dunter smooths doon like a rammer
Compressed air wirks as weel's a haimmer,
The granite dust frae this commotion
Breathed in, gaed masons lung- consumption
Air-filterin masks assist the wye
Fur men tae earn a safer pye.

The Jenny Lind is the machine
Tae polish granite tae a sheen
Sawn granite's bedded on a bogie
Wi stucco. Flat an lyin steady

First wi revolvin iron ring
An steel shot, hear the whirr an sing
Then wi some carborundum grain
Followed by floor, a glaze obtain
That's bricht's a mirror. Putty pooder's
Applied wi felt-faced blocks o timmer

Five hours per process, till the state
0 granite's like a polished plate
Curved steens are polished doon the yaird
The wirk is sair, the labour's hard

Wi iron ring the steen's filed roon
Wi fine steel grit tae grind it doon
Then carborundum, putty pooder
Wirk that is sair on mason's shooder.

A wikk or mair the wark can takk.
Haun-polishin, a cross tae makk
Ready for carvin. Cannie haun
Is nott tae cairry oot the plan

A brush is loaded weel wi paste
Then paper wi the pattern's traced
Pneumatic chisel's guided ower
The traced design o kirk or flooer
The chisel then completes the carvin
Guided by haun, an ee, an feelin.

Anither time...A later day.
We see the feenished masonry
Logo, portcullis, fish an wave
Frontage for bank far aa may save
The granite's polished tae a shine
An syne, tae haud a fresh design
There's molton rubber poored upon
The surface. Logo's noo laid on
End product o the artist's pencil
The rubber's cut tae form a stencil

Sand blastin weirs the steen awa
In dust, like meltin winter sna.
By skill an craft, thus licht an shade
Wi shadow blastin are portrayed.

A steen may show a rural scene
An auld kirk windae, calm, serene
Or leaves, nymphs, sunset on the hills

Here's granite weirin sculptor's frills
Oor silver city by the sea
Has led the granite industry
Technique, machinery an men
Exportin business acumen
Tae USA, tae Canada
Germany, Scandinavia

Five years tae learn the mason's trade
A carver isna born, he's made
By years o practise, haun an ee
Wirkin in perfect symmetry
Fin name and date are carved an set
The letters may be peinted jet
Or set in gold leaf, jist tae show
The Midas touch, archangel's glow

Or letters made o leid are haimmered
Holes drilled tae keep them tichtly anchored
Anither skill...a steady ee
Is needed for calligraphy

Aa ower the warld the granite yairds
0 Aiberdeen serve kings an cyards
A tomb for Emperor or Queen
Is aften set in Rubislaw steen
The Heilans, land o cliff an rock
Are aptly marked bi granite block

Back at the mason's yaird the licht
Tells it's the oncam o the nicht
Men dunt the stoor frae cap an beet
Then, hame bi bike or weary feet
A wash, the news, the supper dish
Stovies fur tea or maybe fish.

The monument's neist stage is planned
Access, erectin, trip inland
Fine simmer's day...Newhills kirkyaird
The funeral's by, the grun's prepared

A steen's erected. Raised an splashed
Wi watter, till its face is washed.
Hett, sunny day. Wi his back bare
The wirker steps up tae the lair.
Cement is shovelled at its foun
Tae keep the hale frae tummlin doon
Like London brig in the bairn's sang
A cheery crew, the graveyaird gang

A warm Broch greetin starts the day
Then they locate the cemetary
This een lies up on hilly lan
The heid-steen's rugged by ramp an han
An then a cairt hauled up the hill
Teamwirk, tenacity, an will.

Photos inset, a passer kens
These fowk war Scots-Italians
A mither an faither's restin place
Their names on polished, roundit base.

Traffic an steer an busy street
Whirr by. Step oot, on weary feet
Intae a warld o gray an green
The douce kirkyairds o Aiberdeen

The sleepers here hae a lang lease
0 monument an quaet, an peace
Here is a plinth, an here a pillar
Sorra has lowsed a grip on siller
Here, Roman letters ower the grass
Whisper the name o some deid lass
Auld matron, or a bonnie quine
A timmer bed their limbs enshrine

Mair intricate, a curvin crest
Stauns ower a final place o rest
A laird, a provost, dignitary
Fa kens? Tint in antiquity
They canna tell us. The bare steen
Bears witness tae their lives, aleen.

The age an name o the deceased
Far wis he born? This is bequeathed
Fur aa tae see. His job, his wife
His bairns, the rig banes o his life

Fish merchant, baker, wee seamstress
This is their forwardin address
The metal names show aa aroun
Deid citizens o oor stinch toun

Scott Skinner's set in masonry
Playin tae aa posterity
See spirit o maternity!
Love cut in granite canna dee.
These scultures, secret or weel kent
Each, a beloved's monument
FINIS


7. Fower Bairn Rhymes fae Sherwid Forest:

Rich Fowk

I ken rich fowk can be gey queer
Ae thing they share..they arena puir

Baron Broon wis roon's a baa
Like Humpty Dumpty on the waa

A skinnymalink wis Miser Mooch
His wecht wis keepit in his pooch

Sheriff Black had bandy legs
An bullies tae gie beggars flegs

Sir Widdershins had hairy lugs
An wolfskin for his manor rugs

The Abbot, Hubert Slow-tae-Sleep
He didna snooze bi coontin sheep
He'd lie in bed an think o money
The clink tae him, as sweet as honey

Dame Gimme-Mair, like an auld coo
Wad eat aa day an nae be fu
She'd 16 pairs o silky sarks
A pie made ooto singin larks
She needed 15 kegs o mead
Tae wash hersel fae taes tae heid
An fin she visited the toun
Ten horsies hauled her cairriage roon
An whuspered 'See Dame Gimme - Mair? '
Tae aa the littlins staunin there, `
She's richer than a queue o Queens
Bit money disna buy ye friens.'


Limerick

There aince wis a robber in green
An arra he fired tae the meen
It shot a bit cheese, jist as nice as ye please
An since then it's niver been seen.


Nottingham Fair

Nottingham Fair's got a deer on a spit
A merriematanzie...a bear in a pit
Jugglers an jesters...an archery coort
Knights at the joustin an aa kinds o sport
Friars an pedlars an wee snappy dugs
Gypsies wi muckle gowd rings in their lugs
Ploomen an bakers an herdsmen wi kye
Winnerfu things. Come an buy! Come an buy!


Wanted

Friar Tuck's got a baldie heid
A big bahoochie. A face that's reid
He's got a tomatae fur a snoot
His taes turn in. His teeth stick oot
His belly's roon as a parridge pot
Is there onythin, noo that I've forgot?

He disna ging tae the kirk an pray
He wolfs doon venison pies aa day
An fin he snores, it's like giant drums
That's fin the rain an thunner comes.


8.Minnie Bruce

Minnie Bruce frae Ythan Wells
Thocht she'd learn some magic spells
Found inbye a witch's buik
In a spidery, fooshty neuk

First, she turned her sister's braces
Inno caterpillars' laces
Neist, tae vex her brither Freddy
She made spells tae shrink his teddy

It fell doon the lavvie pan
Flushed aff tae the Isle o Man
Her mam said 'Minnie, ett yer greens'
She cheenged them inno fairy queens
They flew ten times aroon the telly
Frictenin tae fits, her Aunty Nelly

Fin Pa grew cross and tried tae roar
His teeth gaed finggin oot the door
They lowped across the room an flew
Inno her granny's Irish stew
And there they sank aneth the gravy
Like twa auld dinghies frae the navy.

Grown bold, she cheenged her cousin's cat
Inno a tiger coorse an fat
It gaed wi her tae the theatre
An at the curtain drap, it ate her

Sae aa ye quines fa'd like tae be
A witch o pouer an mystery
Makk dog, or moose, or fish, gyang splat
Bit niver IVER cheenge a cat!


9.A Buchan Ferm in Spring: Faldies, New Deer

Fower birds pyke ticks frae trimmlin lammie's back
A fermer ploos the grun, his ain best lass
Lang courtship o a Buchan ferm wi Spring
Dawn dauchles shiftin frost on sliddery roads

A fermer ploos the grun, his ain best lass
Hawks rype the buddin hazlebuss o sang
Dawn dauchles shiftin frost on sliddery roads
Sax clouds o fite carnation ring the sun

Hawks rype the buddin hazlebuss o sang
Yowes crop the girse, fite hedges on fower legs
Sax clouds o fite carnation ring the sun
There's blin-drift catkin blossom in the wids

Yowes crop the girse, fite hedges on fower legs
Fower birds pyke ticks frae trimmlin lammie's back
There's blin-drift catkin blossom in the wids
Lang courtship o a Buchan ferm wi Spring


10.Poems Owerset frae Gabriel Rosenstock's collection Portrait of the Artist as an Abominable Snowman, Forest Books, London 1989

Tell Lees
`I am the Truith' Quo Sufi Hallaj,
An they killt him.

It's feary eneuch Tae tell the truith,
Bit gin ye ARE the Truith
Ye'd better keep
Yer big moo steekit.
E'en gin ye dae,
Truith wad brakk oot
Frae yer een
An makk a halo ower ye.
Levericks wad sing,
They wad reest on ye,
Bigg nests in yer beard.
Ye'd be like the chiel in Lear's limerick.
Tell lees,
It's safer..

pictur o the artist as an abominable snaaman
I'm scunnert o the Himalayas. I'd like
A but n' ben in Connemara (I hear nae snaa faas yonner)
Learn auld-farrant singin, weir hame-spun, howk peats
Sup pints, gyang on the dole.

Sir Edmund Hillary says I dinna exist
Bit I intend tae gyang on Radio na Gaeltachta
An pruv him wrang (Sassenach shitehoose)

I'm scunnert o the Himalayas – nae fiers
Bar haley bodachs in caves (they'd caa ye gyte)
Fa spikk tae naebody, anely God, OM OM, frae dawn tae nicht.
Scunnerin, the cosmic glimmer o their een,
An the blae skinkle o ice.
I'd like tae larn perfeck Irish, an be the first Yeti iver
(An the hinmaist) Yeti on the staff o the Royal Irish Academy.

Gin I sud fin ma wye bi some miracle
Tae yon noble islan, wad I be taen on?
Or wad some Gaeltacht Authority factory
Makk a fite carpet o ma fur?

I'm scunnert o the Himalayas – ower near Heiven
Ower hyne awa, ochone,
I'm neither breet nur human, an foo I wish
The lift wad swallae me.


Clock
I pit the clock in the fridge the nicht
(Fowk say I'm gyte)
Clocks gar me grue Makk me deef.

There's a patic'lar clan (frae God kens far)
Fa hinna maistered Time yet.
Yestreen is like
Last year tae them.
(Fowk say they're gyte)

Fur example ye micht get
Yer lang deid gransire' s
Milk bill there,
Bit ye can certainly
Ignore it.

I pit the clock on the fridge the nicht.
Tae pruv some pynt
That I canna recaa.
The beet, the cheese, the jeeled carrots
Will wauken at ten tae echt
Let them lowp on the bus an takk a hurl,
I dinna gie a hoot.
I pit the clock in the fridge the nicht.

An gin yer ee gars ye hyter, powk it oot!
I glowered at a quine
Richt ower frae me
On the station platform.
Ye ken yon luik,
Aften screived o in wummins' magazines

I kent I wis affrontin her –
She shoved a tooth inno her boddom lip.
I wis readin a buik

On literature engagee.
Noo an then I raised ma heid,
Ma gleg sherp een
Strippit her clean bare-buff.
The train wis lang, wis latchy
An lang her leevin act
On the cauld platform.

Lang oor twinned pain An indivisible.
Oh bonnie Christ
On the cross
I am the reiver
Ye didna takk
Wi ye tae Paradise.

finis