Millennium Blues (28 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.TWA FUTTERATS

Twa sleekit futterats in a van
Commenced a conversation,
On fit Reality sud mean
A dyke, their illustration.

'A dyke's a hideyhole', quo they,
'Far we may hide frae sicht.
A camouflage....a masquerade....
A screen. A cloak that's Heaven-made
Oor prey tae nab bi nicht.'

'Yer wrang, ' a moosie pypit up,
This steeny booer's ma hame.
A bield, tae hoose ma furry clan,
The littlins o ma wame.'

'Gw'a' (The corbie gied a skreich)
'A dyke is bit a reest.
A perch, tae park ma feathers
Fin the pech gaes frae ma breist.'

A fairmer, stottin frae a howf,
Aneth the sickle meen,
His spayver lowsed, an jubilantly
Stoored agin the steen.

This stopped the futterats learned claik,
Their pheelosophic leanins...
Twa hummlit, drookit, wycer breets
The truth, his mony meanins.



2.THE DEE, OH.

A keek o sun teets throw the wid,
An fit wis happit, derkly hid,
Gleams gowd, a liftit treisur lid,
Alang the skinklin Dee, oh.

A warm win showds the larick trees,
Saft clouds o midgies skiff the eaves,
The harebell, dauncin ben the breeze
Wauchts sweet alang the Dee, oh.

A yeitie wheeples, clear an wee,
A willow reeshles like the sea,
A mavis sails the lift sae free,
Sma piper o the Dee, oh.

The watter jibbles, amber, broon,
The clashin wavelets chink a tune,
A luver's sang cam liltin doon
The fragrant banks o Dee, oh.

The meenister extols the kirk
The fairmer reezes oot the stirk
Gie me the glamourie o birk,
The glimmrin waves o Dee, oh!


3. CYCLIN UP GLEN GAIRN

Forrit wi a dunt, a pech.
Forrit wi a yark.
Swyte is sprootin on ma bane, jibblin doon ma sark.
Sic a brae! Sic a heat! Like a jeelie jar,
0 marmalade, I'm plottin hett.
Wis fiver brae sae far?

Shanks dirl.
Queats, stoon.
Fooshun-foonert hurdies....
Sic a brae! Sic a heat! Beggars as fur wirdies!

Here's the tap!
Noo's the drap!
Wheechin like a craw
Faister...faister
faister....faister... Split the win in twa!


4. FUR A NEW-FAND BRITHER MEY 1996

The wins o Chaunce that wheel the warld,
Blaw faimlies great an sma,
An whyles, the antrin seed takks haud,
Ootower the kirkyaird waa.

The bonniest thrissle e'er I saw
Briered in a Heilan sheugh
Wi deil the shade tae cweel its broo,
Nur tender shooeries, strang, it grew
Its lanesome, straucht an teuch.

Aftimes ye'll see a barley park,
Weel hyewed an deeply plooed,
An in its mids, a poppy keeks
A winsome bairn, wi rosy cheeks
Brichtenin yon bearded brood.

Sae welcome, ower the soundin seas
An tides o Time, tint brither.
Tho Scotia's far frae Huron's lochs
Reets, tie us ticht thegither!



5. THE POWSER.

The powser's sleepin like a clootie dall,
At ilkie neuk his cleuks hing doon, twa-fauld
His sprauchled kyte's a drift o snawy fur
His thrapple ripples wi a rochlin purr.

His breist bane swalls wi pech, a bellows, blawin,
Like a wee boatie, bobbin up, syne faain
On the great sea o sleep, the landlocked powser
Shoogles ae lug, an runkles up his mowser,
An sic a mowser! It micht string a fiddle,
A sailor's riggin, or a fairmer's riddle!

This spurgie's Bogieman, his wame, stap-fu,
Sleeps douce an gentle as a cushie doo
Bit aince ootower the yett, the doo's a Deil,
A sleekit shadda wi a hairt o steel.

Sliddrin alang the glaury, gloomy toun
His een, rwa slits o green, gley up an doon,
The muckle sherp-pronged trap that is his mou,
Gants reid an glimmrin. Cheepers, saft as oo.
Chitter an squeak....the makkins o a meal,
Tasty as herrin in a fisher's creel.

Their wicker nest's a puir defence gainst Daith,
Sud powser chuse tae snip the threids o Braith.

He'll skreich an spit. A rowth o battle scars,
Tell o his tulzies in aneth the stars.
King o the cassies gaun-aboot nicht fowk
The powser reigns supreme. He's nae man's gowk.


6. THE THREE GRACES: EMBRO FESTIVAL 1995

Baldy professors ee them up an doon
(Spectacled grumphies, slivvrin ower each hoch)
Bare as a scrapit soo frae dowp tae croon.
Three bonnie quines. The trifle, in Art's troch.
The kirks are teem. The Gallery is stappit,
Thon bare-buff deems (cream puffs wi cherries, tappit)
Staunin triumphant, merble nymphies, nyaakit,
Flauntin, fit auld an creashie,
I keep happit.


7. WAITRESS, ROSE STREET, EMBRO.

Twa oors o the smaa oors' clock,
Hard as angeret skelp, the neon licht's
An oolet, blinkin een tae glisk the nicht.

She shakks crumbs doon. A hummle, hodden moose,
Her een, beady an broon, smert wi the rikk
Frae caunlelowe, cigar an nicotine.

She takks fowks' orders, pricked bi orra spikk
0 customers, fa sikk a hantle mair
Than maet an wine, ooto the cauldrife air.

Sma-boukit, fite-faced vratch
She glides amang the claikin cliques o diners
Hashed on aa sides, she battens doon the hatch
A service tug, tween transatlantic liners.

Her pooch is threidbare. Foonert on her feet
She serves the late nicht custom frae the street.
A single mither, skivvyin an skint
Ae powk awa, frae Puirtith an Wint.


8. TATTIE HOWKERS.

Spirkit wi sleet, the howkers wirk the rigs
A raw o dreepin nebs, booed ower the yird
Humfin the skulls, hauns dirlin wi the cauld
Liftin the tattie crap wi feint a wird.

Like human brigs, twa-fauld, they stride the glaur
Dellin the dubs fur tatties, clorty-neived
Weet mochies, pirled wi styew, they plyter on
Till ilkie pikk o park is howked an seived.

A line o choochin ingins, puffin rikk
The braith o bairnies rises frae the dreel
At fly-time, halflins ett their pieces thick
In this, a different drudgery frae the skweel.

Back-brakkin darg. Loons warm tae the wark
Their elders tcyauve ahin, coats, auld an torn
Brikks stapped in waldies. Tattiebogle duds
Driven bi thocht o cash in haun, the morn.

9. THE TRAFFIC LICHT'S SANG

I am a traffic licht..king o the road,
Whaun I flash ma crimson ee,
The Highway code says larry an load
Maun stop an takk tent o me.

I am a traffic licht. I see aa,
The Fiesta, the Ford, the Fiat,
I carena a hoot tho they cry 'toot toot'
Fin I cry 'STOP' they dae it.

I am a traffic licht, happit in stoor,
A skinnymalinkie craitur.
It's certain, sure, I'm crabbit an soor
Pollution's ma nearest neebor.

I am a traffic licht. I'm a limb
O the law. A robot-sage.
Nae sweirin. Nae jeerin. Nae Gran-Prix steerin
I canna abide road-rage!

I am a traffic licht. Oh the sichts
Frae ma emerant een I spy!
Back seat girners. Stott-bang learners
Saabs, as sossy's a sty!

I am a traffic licht. Cars an vans
Are the life-bluid flowin ben,
The lanes o ma veesion.
Traffic stramash
An hash, is the warld I ken!


10. MILLENNIUM BLUES

A brukken wreath o eildritch steens,
Yon's Tomnaverie's Druid croon.
Snaws o the Future cweel its tap,
The stoor o Ages haps its foun.

Meen worship there wi bluidy rites,
Gart altar dreep wi crammosie.
Mortlich an Morven witnessed aa,
Derk sichts, tae fricht the coorsest ee.

The icy haar o Lochnagar,
Dreid ongauns smored in secrecy.
Noo, aa is mild as mither's milk
The meen's bit cosmic jewelry

Nae pikk o Pict bi Davan's waves,
For History's breem swypes aathin bare.
Queer mystic lear, aince crystal clear
Wauchts menseless, throwe the gallus air.

Heich heather knowes, laigh weety glens,
Frae stormy Clash, tae Clachanturn
Wis hamelan aince tae Eastern Gael.
Like rain, yon clan birled doon the burn.

Naethin is constant. Naethin bides.
Upreeted frae the hamely yird
New generations turn aside,
Frae heirskip's ploo, frae Doric wird.

The links o bluid, bi sic a seed
Are lichtlifeed. The fitenin beens
0 forebears rot in chaumers, tint,
Forgotten, like the staunin steens.

The chasm o the centuries
Yawns wide, a gap we canna span.
The hame o Scot micht ae day haud
A Cosmic or Galactic man.

The starnies in the mammoth lift,
The wyvin harebell on the brae
Exist....bit binna braided ticht,
Wi restless sleepers in the clay

They whusper ben the keenin wins
'Oh mind on us. Keep faith. Keep faith.'
Tae sic as thon, tae be forgot
Bi kith an kin is truly, Daith.

Acres o hooses, fertile files
Spawn snod computors bi the hairth
As e-mail swallaes ceilidh's hale,
Plooed rigs tae muckle toons gie birth.

Heroin satts the city's brose.
Cuckoo commutors stap the byre
The nest is teem. The birdie's gaen.
Kent culture fuels a funeral pyre.

Langsyne this wis a pleisunt place.
The branches o my tribe war strang
We war as leaves upon a birk,
That shimmered aa the simmer lang

I am my faither's bairn, uncut
Umbilical. On Past, we fed.
A leevin corp, it thrived, it flooered.
It niver dwined. It niver bled.

Hyne back, the hinmaist wolf they slayed,
Bi Gairn. It cudna wither, syne.
Guid killin! A museum or zoo
Fur sic a breet wad bin unkind.


A steen is in the salmon's moo.
Cernunnos trails a cripplit hoch.
A canker's in the larick's breist.
A blicht his bladdit linn an loch.

The steps o Siva ben the warld
Burn fierce an bricht...sae quick the wheel
That wracks the humpback in the deep.
That makks a squardaunce o a reel.

A caileach in a wintry cave,
I bare my saber teeth an roar
Oh doubly desolate's the lan
That spurns aa that's gaen aforel


These next seven poems were inspired by traditional Gaelic songs from the Eastern Highlands of Upper Deeside

11. MUCKLE HUMPHREY

We will traivel up an ower, sclimmin bi the Gluige Mhor
We will traivel up an ower, the lave may like or lump it

Muckle Humphrey gaed tae Blair, sikkin intment fur a sair
The parridge poultice gotten there, gart him grue he mumpit

Better tae hae suppit tea, stead o gyaun bi Carn an Righ
The physeecians aa agree, Humphrey hid them stumpit

Biggit like a barn door, a caber cudna caa him ower
Ilkie time he gied a roar, aa Glen Cluny jumpit.

Muckle Humphrey hoastit twice, hauf the Cluny turned tae ice
Sic a cauld wad jeel a grice, a wheezle like a trumpit!

Ay he pyochered, ay he spat, his dreepin neb gaed pit-a-pat
Frae Coile-a-creich tae Burn a Vat, wi sneezles we war dunkit!



12. PRAISE-SANG FUR FRANCIS FARQUHARSON 0 MONALTRIE
THE BARON BAN

Derk the was that gaithers roon us
Since the fair Monaltrie's faa
Warlord o the great Clan Findlay
Niver laith the sword tae draa!

Iver foremaist in the tulzie
Niver blate at tholin skaith
Hail him as Prince Charlie's hero
Feared Dishonour, ower Daith!

Sing the praises in the North lan
0 the loon wi gowden hair
Fair his broo, an bricht his valour
Sweet his natur, chieftain rare!

Tho Monaltrie's hyne frae Darroch
He'll return, the foe tae scourge
Route the Suddron Reid-Coat sodjers
Gie their wives, the widdas' dirge!


13. IAIN DUBH'S LAMENT

Daith his reived ma bonnie Annie
Grief is coorse, ochon-ma-chree
I'll ne'er tyne the mynin o her
Till the mavis leaves the tree.

Hard on ilkie clash, or tuizie
Ruigh-an-t-Seilich, first, I see
In the clay o fair Glen Ey
My cauld luv lies silently.

There's anither lues me dearly
Pledged tae me bi ring o gowd
Wad the grave that haps ma Annie
Held yon ither, in its shroud.

Bonnie lassie frae Glen Garrie
Cud I see yon face again
Risen frae the dowie yird
Aa Glen Ey wad be her ain.


14. COLIN'S CATTLE

It's inbye Glen Ey,
An Glen Dee's wyndin muir
Frae ae glen tae tither
A-chasin the deer.

The kye o my Colin
A-grazin the Ben
They are speckled's the grouse
Broon's the bonnie muir-hen.

It's nae in Glen Lui
Nor Glen Taitneach I'd be
My hairt's on Braeriach's
Grey Corrie o Dee

The kye o my Colin
They are fit fur a king
Fin they lowe in Glen Lui
They garr Embro ring!

The kye o my Colin
On the heather, ye'll meet
An the milk they lat doon
Flows sae creamy, sae sweet



14. THE BURN BI THE GREEN LOCHAN

The burn bi the green lochan
Its watter held a charm
An tho the airt wis jeelin
The shielin it wis warm.

Tho Norlan wins micht cloor me
An storms ring the peak
The burn bi the green lochan
Wad lull me saft asleep

Ma bonnie fair-haired lassie
Oh dinna greet nur mane
Tho I am pairtit frae ye
Ma hairt is aa yer ain

An far the stag is soundin
His war-cry tae the cloud
I wadna trade yer kisses
Fur aa the Indies gowd.

Ae nicht inbye the shielin
Sae lanesome in the glen
I heard a cauld voice fusper
There's strangers on the Ben

Come ower the brae tae catch ye
Ootower the craggy muir
The deer cried oot a warnin
Sae keenly, aa micht hear.

Ma skeelie gun I dichtit
I pued ma plaidie ticht
My pucklie gear I liftit
An braced masel fur flicht

A hunter, I wis huntit
Bit fear, I didna ken
There's nae a brawer poacher
In ony Heilan glen

Frae Cairn-Mhaim tae Lui
I traivelled ilkie Ben
An ilkie jibblin burnie
I scrauned, fur sicht o men

Afore the sun hid risen
Wi mony's a gleam an glent
I kent within an inklin
A tod wis on ma scent

Atween the banks o heather
The burnies treetled doon
Their tinklin sangs an stories
Sae sweetly they did croon

A silent prayer I offered
Abune the watters flow
That he fa rules the riveries
Micht save me frae the foe.

It's early in the mornin
The Glas Allt road I'll takk
An shakk the hounds that hunt me
Like dyew-draps frae ma back

Syne, tho it breenge sae brawly
The michty stag is mine
There's nae a finer poacher
Bi Allt an Lochain Uaine


15. THE LASS 0 BRAEGARRIE

The lads are wae, oh dowie day,
A fairmer's won an wooed her
Her waddin's at the hoose o sang
On heich Ben Chraimeal's showder

Oh, wad they'd lay me in the grave
Afore I see ma dearie
Jyned wi Tom Chullan's factor chiel
It grieves that she will leave me.

Ochone ma lass, ma bonnie lass,
Braegarrie's broon-haired treisur
The warld micht ken, frae Burn tae Ben
Ye are ma greatest treisur.

Three year an mair, I fished in vain
In ilkie loch an lochan
My net an boat hid deil the luck
Frae Builg tae Vrotachan.

Ill-faured in life, ill-faured in luv
It's in the grave I'd bide
Afore I hear that her sae dear
In truth's, the factor's bride!

Last nicht, Braegarrie it wis thrang
Wi mony's the bonnie lassie
Afore I'd drink the waddin toast
I'd caa tae skelfs, the tassie.


16.THE PIPER'S COORTIN

Sic a blaw is Francie, sweirs he's comin oor wye
Coortin dauncin Mary, a ribbon on his pipe

It's kent frae Quoich tae Derry, it isna him she'll mairry
She's Macintosh's quarry, he'll lift her at a swype.

His harns they are raivellt, his plaidie, it's bumshayvellt
Ower the knowes he's traivellt, the luv-sick loon, the gype.

Heedrum hoddrum pibroch, his chanter's in the coo's troch
His drones are in the Dubh Loch, a-playin tae the pike!

Sic a blaw is Francie, sweirs Kindrochit's peesie
Leaves its cloudy hame tae hear the music frae his pipe

Frae Inverey tae Gairn, it deefens ilkie bairn
Eneuch tae cowp a cairn, or teem a bummer's bike!

His coronach is fooshty, sgian dubh is roosty
There is nae a tooshtie, o cherm, wi'in the tyke.

His beeny shanks are bowdie, his chikks are pale as crowdie
He drives the velvet mowdie, tae drink ahin the dyke!

Sic a blaw is Francie, sweirs that ilkie lassie
Dees tae catch a glisk o him, did e'er ye hear sic styte!

His chanter skirls an toot-toots, till ghaisties in their grave cloots
Rin faister than the linn troots tae leave him at his fyke!

He's telt the capercaillie, salmon an the snaillie
Horned forkietaillie, an they set aff tae clype.

Bit Macintosh is lauchin, wi Mary he'll be daffin
The waddin wine they're quaffin, an Francie's left tae flyte!


17. THE WISHING TREE 20th June 1998: Samye Ling Tibetan Retreat

I tied a wish tae the wishin tree
That stauns neth a fairy knowe
A torn cloot on a hawthorn branch
Tae flap in yon ferny howe.

And ilkie crookit, neukit bough,
Wi knottit rags it's fillt
Fur ilkie body that sikks yon airt
Brings their ain secrets tillt.

There's some hae tied a wish fur Daith
There's some hae prayed fur a Birth.
There's some brocht Sorra tae yon tree,
And ithers, lichtsome Mirth.

At the hinnereyn o the Century
Grey kirks are teem an fyewe
Auld Faiths are tint. Fowk feel their wint,
Cauld skulls that the wins blaw throwe.

An sae, some stray tae the wishin tree,
Tae speir fur wirk, or gear,
And some will wish fur pouer an pelf
Fur siller, fur luv, fur lear

Bit I steppt up tae the wishin tree
An ticht yon cloot I twined.
An sair I wished fur a priceless jewel-
A quaet an a peacefu mind.


18. THE SNAILIE: by the Esk

A snailie heistit his hornies up,
Ae simmer's day, ae simmer's day,
Ahin a gowden buttercup,
Come oot tae play, come oot tae play.

Bit first ae hornie, syne the tither,
Wis drookt wi rain, till, 'Feech! Sic weather! '
He cried, an pued his hornies doon,
A wycer an a weeter loon.


19. THE ESKDALE YOWE

The dusky Esk comes yammerin doon
Tho bonnie it be an braw,
A sma, sma note it chimes in me,
An octave, nane ava!

Fur a tippeny toot o a fooshunless troot
It mebbe micht serve a turn,
Fur it hisna the pouer, the virr an the skelp
0 a guid-gaun Heilan burn.

An the yowes that tramp thon saftsome braes
Nae horns! Nae taigles! Nae gurr!
Sae quaet, they are, sae douce they are
They cud lie on their backs an purr!

Gin an Eskdale yowe sud traivel North,
It wadna sattle either.
Fur the wins are snell frae the mou o Hell
An there's crags an quags o heather..

Each tae his ain! A Lunnon wife
Wadna sweel her face in a troch.
An fit suits ye, micht misfit me.
Roads can be saft or roch.


20. THE GORBLIE

Weetin Strathgirnock's bluebell-bobbin road
Rain shouers praises doon. Sweet Simmer's psalms!
Wins showd a wechty larick, fu o cones,
Like mithers lullin weariet bairns in prams.

Heich Simmer. Storm-clouds stalk the rummlin lift,
Like bigsie bantam cocks that clash an craw.
The sun teets oot. Its radiant butteret face
Yolk yalla, mangst fite ooie clouds that blaw.

Aneth an aik whaur birds in concert sing,
A gorblie lies, like precious cheena smashed.
The table's set. The banquet month's in swing.
Ae sma cup frae the denner service smashed,
He winna crest the win wi yon booed wing..
Broke Breid wi Daith...his face nae even washed.


21.CA-CANNIE

Fin yer mindit tae traivel bi Quoich's thunnrin linn,
Tae see yon bonnie burn tummil doon,
Takk tent- ye micht skyte on the snyauvil sae fite
Splyter inno the watter an droon.

Warsslin up tae the oxters in heather an whin
An aidder micht strikk at yer queats
Sae weir thick worsit hose an ye'll ay be jocose
Wi a pair o stoot tackety buits.

There's emerteens ettlin tae nip at yer shanks
There's midgies'll sook yer bihooch.
An glegs bi the hunner, wad gie the stunner
Fair heezin in corrie an sheugh.

Fegs they're unchancy airts, oor heich Grampian pairts
Fowk cowp aff their taps bi the dizzen
Keepin streetcher an ambulance, sawbeen an nurse
In employment fitiver the Sizzen.

Clartit in stookie, in bandages wippt
Thochts rin in their hams like a pooshun
On the nestiest craig far they neist will stravaig
Finiver they're blessed wi the fooshun.

They tell me the lairds are as daft as the cyairds
Fin the notion cams on tae gyang haikin.
Bit whyles they are tint, fin the mist wi the feint
0 a warnin clean raivels their raikin.

Takk a strang cuttit cromack tae steidy yer feet
Or ye'll rowe doon the knowe like a bool,
An lan up tae yer oxters in traicily peat
An be hirplin frae Lammas tae Yule.

A dram in yer pooch'll pit fire in yer breist
Fin blin- drift gars ye pyocher an hoast...
Tho yer lugs ye may claw ben the plufferts o snaw
Yer neb'll be cosy as toast.

Twid bumbaze ye tae ken there's bin puckles o men
Stravaiged roon the Bens in their sark,
Syne, jeeled tae the been like a daud o ice cream
They're fand stiff as an ice-berg, an stark.

Spite o hurt hochs an hurdies, an weel meanin wirdies,
Fowk flock tae the knocks in a hist,
Bit the braes can be fickle...And whyles in a rickle
0 steens they cam doon in a kist.

Fin sclimmin the knowes takk a tip frae the yowes,
Man's nae biggt like an erne in an eyrie....
Keep yer feet on the grun, or like rikk frae the lum
Ye'll cam back the roch road, tapsalteerie!


22.DIET

'Bird' quo the powser
Dichtin his mowser
'Delichts a carouser'

'Een, ' quo the craw
'Frae a corp in the snaw
Tastes best ava '

'Wirm' quo the merle,
'Rowed in slivvers o pearl
Is maet fur an earl.'

'Glegs', quo the taed,
Frae his thrapple o jade,
'Fur naething I'd trade.'

'Bens, ' quo the mist
'I sweel doon at ae tryst
Like a lid on a kist.'

'Banes, ' quo the mools,
'My derk desire fuels
Like a pyockfu o jewels.'


23.SAE LUELY LUELY RINS THE BURN

Sae luely luely rins the burn
The heron's larder, trooties' gait
Till at its linn, baith wave an fin
Come skelpin doon in thunnrin spate.

Sae luely luely rins the burn
The kye boo doon tae sloke their drooth
An lauchin littlins, drookit, dook
Sic pleisurs watter hauds fur youth!

Sae luely luely rins the burn
It's auld's the mist. It's young's the dyewe
Fite blossoms drap frae showdin geans
A bridal train, it trails in towe.

Sae luely luely rins the burn
Its waves skelp on like craws that hash
Wi flappin wings. The burnie sings
0 luv's stramash, wi wattery clash.

Sae luely luely rins the burn
Far bobbin wagtils big their booer
It smeeths the tresses o the reeds
Like luvseek luver, ower an ower.

Sae luely luely rins the burn
Till doon it draps tae fill a puil
A waucht o waeness in yon drap
Wad freeze hairt's bluid. Wad gar it geel.
Sae thocht the lass wha slippit doon
The cares o as her warld tae seal
In yon kind watter's cauld embrace
A snowflake, tint in Winter's sweel.


24. THE PRIDE 0 TULLICH

GlenTanar's knowes, Glen Cluny's howes
Are slicht compared wi Tullich's pride.
Thon glimmrin star that's Lochnagar
Preened tae the firmament. A guide
Tae birdies smaa, an gangrels aa
Heich compass o the kintraside.

His fragrant thyme,
His burns like wine
Wi heath an harebell lang distillt
A glintin fin, the Glas Allt Linn
Wi wave an merry birdsang fillt.

Fin nichts are lang, an blizzards thrang
An beasts maun coorie in the byre,
Ower staa, ower haa,
He tholes the blaa
While mortals chitter ower the fire.

The bawd rins ower
His muirlan, hungeret,
The erne scrauns
His scree fur game
Bi driven snaa
His tap is dunnert
An ermine plaid, drapt ower
His wame.

A latchy Spring. The buds are brierin
A sleepy adder, hauf hung tee
Raxxes his coils. A hingin-luggit taed
His spawn begins tae spee.
Loch Dubh's a cauldron, rikkin, reamin
Fu o the Springtime's fertile bree.

The riven crags, the broon peat hags,
Dwaum in the simmer's birsslin sun
Wud whirligigs daunce gollach jigs,
The wheech o line....the crack o gun,
Echoes aroon yon auncient lan
Howked bi a glacier's boney haun.

Autumn. The rowan's hingin reid.
The harebell nods its airy heid.
The Sizzen richly peints the Ben
Flangs purple robes alang the glen.

GlenTanar's knowes. Glen Cluny's howes
Are slicht compared wi Tullich's pride
Thon glimmrin star that's Lochnagar
The glory o thon kintraside.


25. MAISTER PUDDOCK

Maister puddock's like a bodach
As he sprauchles on his stammack
Nabs a glaikit hornygollach
Wi his back as bood's a crommack
Port-a-beul! The hungeret sclorach
Thinks it tasty as a bannock.


26. MAISTER TAED

Maister taed weirs shiny trews
Like the breeks o a banshee
In the bog aside the burn
That's sleistery wi lochan's bree.
A pyock o plooks upon his back
'KEERACK, KEERACK', is aa his crack
Up he lowps! .. Draps wi a heck
As sudden as a sair begeck!


27. AULD CAILLEACH

The dottlit cailleach frae the ferm
In her bauchles trauchles throwe
The park aside the tummelt cairn
Far neeps like raws o sod jers growe.

Like a partan, dour an beeny
Pechan, up she pues the kail
Frae the ootrigs, roch an steeny
Bluid's like watter, ower shail

It's wersh an thin. Her veins are dulse
A rattan's fitfaa is her pulse....
A leaky currach, tramsh an teuch
A linn, that's dwinnlit tae a sheugh.

Her waes hae gaithered wi the years
As fyew an fyewer growe her fiers.
Like bees frae skep atap the glen
Or raindraps ower the drookit Ben

Tribbles spring up tae wecht her doon
Auld cailleach, in the creeshie goon.


28. NICHT-FAA

Ahin the knock the peesie keens
A coronach's its dowie croon
The gloamin is a trauchelt cyard
Fit-sair an weary, beddin doon.

Cauld corries catch the derkenin clouds
As nicht-faa smoors the lowes o day
The shauchlin brock his ludgin leaves
Deep in the crags abeen the brae

The Heavens screive their starry strowds
Like peeries the far planets reel
The Druid meen, its witchin casts
Enthralls the muckle ocean's sweel.