On Brigid's Day (29 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.A Mearns Laddie's Spikk: tune: Drumdelgie. in memoriam James Leslie Mitchell: 13/2/1901, - 7/2/1935

In Auchterless ae Februar, Jeems Mitchell he wis born,
Intae a lan o wark an tyauve, o kye an gowden corn
At echt year auld his faimly cam tae Bloomfield in the Mearns
A place o teuchits, win an breem an rosy chikkit bairns

Arbuthnott hid a dominie fa learned this halflin weel
Bit oh, Steenhive an Mackie held a coorser kinda dreel
He slippt the yoke o schule an ferm tae learn the screiver's trade
Tae Aiberdeen. as journalist the gangrel laddie gaed

Syne on tae Glesga, far the slums an Gorbals gart him grue
The dark nicht o the soul cam on, bit still he warssled through
He listit in the airmy, crossed the Muslim continent
Frae Palestine tae Persia, aa the sans that Pharoahs kent

He quit the airmy fur a whyle in stoory Lunnon toon
Syne jyned the RAF fur sustenance, this hardy Mearns loon
He tuik fur wife a neebor's lass, Ray Middleton bi name
A Nor-East couple settin furth across the bridal stane.

Sune bairnies blessed their union, brocht twa mair tae claith an feed
Jeems Mitchell, noo in civi street, maun earn their daily breid
The novels teemin frae his eident harns war quickly spawned
He screived a maisterpiece, an syne a modern wonder dawned

It wisna screived in English nor in Scots an thon's a fack
An yet it seemed tae use the wye the Mither Tongue wis spakk
An for't he tuik his mither's name, like he'd bin born anew
For twis the birth o somethin auld rowed up in somethin new

Tae fowk fa ken the Nor East lan it lowps up aff the page
The soss o dubs, the glent o frost, the bite o Winter's rage
Bit whyles the brichtest fire that burns, it is the first tae dee
Frae aisse tae aisse is aa the span o oor humanity.

Noo some leave gear an plenishin, an some leave nane ava
An ithers gyang unmurned like snaw bree meltin in the thaw
His wirds are iver-laistin they jink the mools like rikk
For they will dog an haunt ye, the Mearn's laddie's spikk!


2.The Sacrifice o Inhizenia, frae Agamemnon
An owersett in Scots frae the translation bi Ted Hughes

The prayers gyang up. Her faither
Gies the nod. Iphigenia's
Heisted aff her feet bi her attendants
They haud her ower the makk-shift altar
Like a warsslin calfie.

The win preens her lang frock tae her body
An flichters the skirt, an rugs at her touslie heid¬
'Da! ' she skirles oot, 'Da! '-
Her vyce is wheeched awa bi the soun o the surf
Her faither turns aside, wi a wird
She canna hear. She's chokin
Hauns are stappin a cloot inno her mou.
They fix it there wi a towe like a cuddy's bit.
Her bonnie lips fecht wi the curb
Sae the skreich that bi chaunce
Micht hae banned the hoose o Atreus
Is steeked inbye her body

Heistin her breists.
Noo, roch hauns teir aff her silks
An the win waltzes wi them
Doon alang the stran, an ower the surf.
Her een rowe in their tears.
She kens her killers
Chiels fa'd grat
Tae hear her sing in Agamemnon's hame
Fin wine wis poored oor fur the Gods on heich.
They grip their hairts ticht
Dinna catch her een.
They glower at a maisterpiece o perfeck skin
Like hens' flesh wi the cauld.
Peety is like a butterflee in a neive
Its knuckles fitenin.


3.Traivellin Sangs

At the Back o Beyond far the Divil fooled the fiddler
I niver manged the cant, yet a piper an a diddler
O the traivellin fowk gied ye somethin mair nor haban...
Their sangs o the road, faith, I thocht I wis Aladdin
Fin they stapped my lugs wi the treisur o their lore
Ballads aulder nur Ben Neevis, tales tae jeel ye tae the core

I'd need ae slate lowse an anither ane slidin
Nae tae open wide ma winklers at the lear they were providin
I wis lucky, as a dilly, they were there for me tae meet
Bit fur ithers o the hantle, fa'll set oot the stranger's seat
If it wisna fur recordins keepin ballads tae the fore
Noo the traivellers dinna traivel....foo'd the sangs win ower the door?


4.The Deliverance Sang: Tune: Oh the Praties they grow small, over here

Oh the watter disna rin, in the san, in the san
The watter disna rin in the san.
The watter disna rin bit there's ile tae fill yer tin
It's the vict'ry nane can win, in the san., in the san

There's the thunner o the guns, in the East, in the East
There's the thunner o the guns in the East
There's the thunner o the guns, mithers beeryin their sons
Wi their tint illusions, mosque an priest, mosque an priest

Wars tae liberate should please, common fowk, common fowk
Wars tae liberate should please common fowk
Bit its bombs an nae disease, gar the deid drap doon like flees
An the livin boo their knees graves tae howk, graves tae howk

Far's the wise men o the west in this sang, in this sang
Far's the wise men o west in this sang?
Did they chase the Gowden fleece wi their Trojan shelt o peace
In a war o little eese tae the thrang, tae the thrang?

Fa's thon chappin at yer door, average man, average man
Fa's thon chappin at yer door, average man?
Gin he forces his wye in, is it richt or is't a sin
Are ye deef as weel as blin, average man, average man?


5.New Deer: Gloamin

The deein sun's lichtin the lowes o gloamin
Parks raxx oot teem o fowk

Abeen an eildritch wid, a craw flees skreichin
Rabbits cooer in the sheugh
Their een wee crackit spunks
Starnies flooer in the lift, like snawdraps in a dub


6.The Auldest Profession: tune There wis a Dundee weaver

A puckle hoors frae Lunnon traivelled north tae Aiberdeen
Ane wis a dominatrix wi tackets in her sheen
She marched aroon the herbor bit wun nae trade ava
Fowk tuik her fur a gutter bi the stibble in her jaw

The secunt hoor wis a masseuse she iled a loon sae weel
He skyted aff the table jist like a sookit peel
He broke ten metatarsals an fit wis wirst ava
His boddom set o dentures as they skelpit aff the waa

The third hoor offered photie sessions bare's a pluckit hen
She'd read the Kama Sutra, she'd dined at Nummer 10,
Bit nae a single MSP atween the Dee an Don
Wad stamp her caird an pye her fee tae pose wi naethin on

The hinmaist hoor, a dauncer, sliddered up an doon a pole
Bit frost on her bihoochie wis mair nur she could thole
Noo she sells double glazin...bit gin ye speir fur mair
She'll strip doon tae her semmit an French-polish aa yer flair

Sae aa ye hoors frae Lunnon ye should niver leave the Thames
Wi dreams o connin ilemen tae pairt wi gifts an gems
The siller in the granite toun's nae fur the likes o ye
The locals winna pye a maik fur somethin they get free


7.The Widdendreme

Foo dae ye toss at nicht auld man, unquate in yer linen sheets?
Is it a dream o war, or wint, or wae in tribbelt breists?
Is it a dream o luvers tint...o reid lips in the mools?
Is it a dream o fleein youth, o green years stown like jewels?

Syne, ye maun wauken tae hurdies shrunk, twa dweeble, wrunkled hauns
That aince held lowdie, earned bi wit an cherm in fremmit lans
The Angel o Daith takks mony forms in the forest o mortal men
Whyles he's a wizzent, blaikened tree frae the foun o a pit-mirk glen.

Whyles he comes as a kindly face, an whyles as a stammygaster
Whyles he comes as the cure fur pain, an whyles as a cruel maister
Ae day he'll staun at yer heid, auld man. Ae day he'll staun bi mine
Bit far ye've wauked, a greenwid grows,
Wi tales, like dyewdraps ben its howes
An sangs o magic ower its knowes. Sic things will niver dwine


8.The Sigh

Hae ye heard it, the sigh? Oh it's sleekit, sleekit...
It lowped frae the mou o the first disjaskit luver
Intae a stag at the tap o cauld Glen Quoich
The secunt a bullet stopped its whumpin hairt

It wis heard fin a wummin luiked in her keekin glaiss
Ten meenits efter the terrorist bomb
Dichtit the smile affo her face foriver
The deepest sigh ava, comes fin a bairn is beeriet
Like time's rin widdershins, o mercy, weariet.


9.The Heidless Hats

Fin my mither veesited the milliner
I wis an accessory, like a pair o gloves or a bag
Heidless hats on peglegs stude in raws

Bowls o black lace hungeret fur creashie widdas
Plufferts o feathers set snares fur stride-legged weemin
Fresh frae the kintra, pheasant like, fu-breistit
Fur, furled roon on itsel like an stervin tod
Wyted fur siller tae faa frae leather purses

Fin ma mither veesited the milliner
Hat preens stude tae attention
Silk turbans smeethed their faulds
Beads an baubles chittered like pygmies' teeth


10.The Brier Queen

I wis the Queen o my kingdom.
I sat in a palace o briers
The mavis, ma mey-in-wytin,
Brocht aa that a queen desires

An the velvet, peony roses,
War the guid lords at ma feet
An the Tam Thoombs war ma servents
That daunced tae Springtime's beat

I wis the Queen o my kingdom,
As cantie's a bairn micht be
Bit lang hae I tint my kingdom,
An lang hae I tint its key.


11.The Train

At nicht fin ma een are steekit ticht
A train comes thunnerin ben
My dreams...I'm on't, tho far I'm gaun
Is the thing I dinna ken

It wheechs through a tunnel o glentin stars
There's passengers, ane, twa, three
Bit on my ticket there's feint the clue
Nor map o thon fey journey

An as I sit in the midnicht train
The black trees unner the sky
Raxx oot their airms, as if tae say
Step aff tae the dark doonbye

A skreich o brakes, a trimmle, a yark
My stop! Is it coorse or braw?
This destination I niver reach....
I wauken. The train's awa.


12.Iron Bru

Iron Bru! Iron Bru!
Orange bubbles keekin through!
See the lines o robots queue,
Biddin roosty jynts adieu!


13.Meldrum's Parks

A lintie licht as a cloud flew ooto its shell.
Twa wing-shaped leaves
Flappin ower Meldrum's parks


14.Mormond Hill

Shaddas creep frae ilkie neuk
Shaddas lowp frae reeshlin trees
Shaddas drap frae steadin waas
Far cauld Autumn takks her ease

Shaddas meevin, shaddas still,
Warp an weft on Mormond hill


15.The Auld Bards o Cheena
Scots owersett o The Old Poets of China', by Mary Oliver

Fariver I am, the warld follaes me.
It ettles tae inveigle me in'ts darg,
It disna believe I dinna wint it.

Noo I ken
Foo the auld bards o Cheena
Gaed sae hyne an heich intae the bens
Syne creepit inno the haar


16.Twa owersetts frae Auld Cheena I. Zhongnan

Retreat:
A Scots owersett o this poem bi Wang Wei (701-762)

I'm fair thirled tae The Wye in middle age
I've bigged a hame aside these bens, sae then
Fine'er the speerit meeves me...aa alane
I gyang tae see neuks ithers dinna ken

I wauk tae the burn-heid, dowp doon an watch
The clouds rise up. Alang the widlan track
Bi chaunce, I meet a bodach.
Syne we spikk An lauch.
1 niver think o gyangin back


In Repon tae Vice-Magistrate Zhang
A Scots owersett frae an English translation o this poem bi Wang Wei(701-7)

Late in ma life, I anely value quate
A heeze o urgent ploys, I let them gyang
I contemplate. I hae nae on-gaun plans
I set aff fur the wids far I belang

Meen on the knowe. Pine breeze.
I lowse ma belt I strum my lute.
Ye speir...I say nae mair
Aboot success or failure than the sang
The fisher sings. The deep shore is its lair


17.Mornin Sang
Scots owersett o the poem bi Sylvia Plath

Luv set ye gaun like a fat gowd fob
The howdie skelped yer fitsoles, an yer bare greet
Tuik its place amang the elements

Oor voices echo, magnifee yer comin. New statue
In a winny museum, yer nyakitness
Shaddas oor bield. We staun roon teem as waas.

I'm nae mair yer mither
Then the cloud that distils a keekin-gless
Tae show its ain slaw dichtin-oot
At the win's haun

Aa nicht yer moch-braith
Flichters amang the flat, pink roses. I wauken tae lippen:
A hyne sea meeves in ma lug
Ae greet an I hyter frae bed, coo-wechty
An flooery in ma Victorian nicht-goun

Yer moo opens clean's a cat's.
The windae squar fitens an swallas
The blae starnies. An noo ye try
Yer pucklie notes;
The snell vowels rise like balloons


18.The Applicant
Scots owersett o the poem bi Sylvia Plath

First aff are ye oor kinno body? Dae ye weir
A gless ee, fause teeth or a crutch
A brace or a hyeuk
Rubber breists or a rubber fud
Stitches tae show somethin's tint? Na? Na?
Weel, foo can we gie ye onythin?
Stop greetin. Unsteek yer haun. Teem?
Teem. Here is a haun
Tae stap it an ettlin
Tae bring flycups an smeeth awa
Sair heids An dae fitiver ye tell it.

Will ye merry it?
It's a cert
Tae thoomb yer een shut at the eyn
An dissolve wi grue
We makk new stock frae the satt
I see yer bare-nyakit
Foo aboot this suit
Black an stiff, bit nae a bad fit
Will ye merry it?
It's watter-pruif, brakk-pruif, pruif
Agin fire an bombs throw the reef
It's true...they'll beery ye in it.
Noo yer heid, excuse me, is teem

I hae the remeid fur thon
Come here dearie, ooto the press
Weel- fit dae ye think o thon?
Nyakkit as paper tae stert
Bit in 25 years she'll be siller
In 50, gowd
A livin dall, aawye ye luik
It can shew, it can cook
It can spik, spik, spik
It wirks, there is naethin wrang wi it
Ye hae a hole, it's a poultice.
Ye hae an ee-it's a pictur.
Lad, it's yer last resort
Will ye merry it, merry it, merry it?


19.The Rotten Keg

There was a man that wadna hang
Three times upon a tree
Three times they strung him up aloft
But never hang wad he

There was a bairn that sooklit lang
Upon the briest. Its greet
Wis niver sated. Sic a wint
Nae eirdly wife could meet.

There wis a pillar, stoot an strang
Felled bi a drap o dyew
Tho dweeble, thon aybydan faa
The hairt o steen cut throwe

There wis a bride gaed wi a sang
Tae weir her wyndin sheet
Her bridegroom wis the chunnerin wirm
That twines the thrissle reet

O these are facts that winna ding
Fate's on a shoogly peg
Ae day it's wauchts o hinney ale
The neist, a rotten keg


20.Sentinels

0 Cairngorms sae heich an blue
I'd see the warld were't nae for you
Bit were ye niver there ava
Foo dreich an drear the hyne-awa!

Stinch Bens, wi star-glent in each steen
The Nor-East's hurcheon-prod backbeen
Ye set the compass fur my hairt
That's thirled tae yer stormy airt


21.Drooned Warld

Twa wids there was afore ma een
Bit yin lay drooned in Loch o Skeyne
A warld unkent in kirk or psalm
A derker warld o fey an dwaum

The larick tree I raxx tae grip
Wummles. In runnles it'll slip
Back tae the stank o puddock-steels
The pit-mirk glaur o auncient puils

Staun-back. The lochan's face is fair
Touch it...like mist there's naethin there
A cheat-the-ee frae tap tae foun
The keekin glaisse far boundaries droon


22.Wyes o Daein

Dae fit yer telt
Or I'll skelp ye... Conditioning

Dae fit yer telt
In yer ain time Laissez-faire

Dae fit yer telt
Or ye'll fry Calvinism

Dae fit yer telt
Or I'll greet manipulation


23.Orra Sheets

She was a weet blanket
Washed her fool washin in public
Pit throwe the wringer
Bi a wee squirt five sheets tae the win
Even efter a guid airin
The tide marks wadna shift


24.Winter Kistin, Tullich

Blin drift weets the mourner's jaikets
Funeral claes are weirin haps o fite

The onding furls unceasin roon the beerial
Fowk dunt their feet...the fooshun leaves their fingers
Men blaw on their neives
The howked grun spreids a bridal sheet o fite
For the incomin tenant
Waves o the Dee nearhaun the ruined kirk
Breenge heich like shelts

The soughin win droons oot the meenister's wirds
Towes slip frae the deid wecht o the kist
A skitter o frozen yird strikkin its face

Wreaths are smored aneth a wecht o snaa
There is nae newsin at the lip o the mools
In Januar- roads, unchancy, miles o skyte an slidder
Fowk melt awa
Tae warmth, tae hame, tae life


25.The Astra-Coo

Kate, a coo frae Galway Bay,
flew up tae the Milky Way
Naethin there for her tae chew!
Wi as maist byordnar moo
Back she flew, the Astra-Coo


26.Scottish Parliaments, Auld & New: An Auld Sang

When Jamie Saxth tae Lunnon gaed
There war twa parliaments
That kept the rose an thrissle strang
Neebors, wi gweed intents

A puckle years gaed wheechin past
King Charles the First wis heidit
In Lunnon toun- tho mony Scots
Declared they'd nae agreed it

0 the twa kings that Charlie sired
The first deid in his bed
His secunt son, the Catholic Jeems
Tae Europe he has fled

Thon years war ill, puir hairsts an lean
Syne William Paterson
Set oot a scheme tae colonise
The Bay o Darien

Tae fund this risky enterprise
Scots siller poored like rain
On the onchany tide o Fate
Five ships sailed ower the faem

Endeavour, Caledonia,
Saint Andrew, and Dauphin
Set oot tae brave the ocean
Wi the gallant Unicorn

Wi near 12 hunner fowk on boord
They sailed fur Panama
Till drappin anchor, named the lan
New Caledonia

They plooed the grun, an planted yams
Bigged huts an seeded maize
Afore a single year wis oot
The Scots kent dowie days

Despite the care the Indians lent
Three quarters o thon band
War beeriet there in foreign graves
Alang thon fever strand

The English pyed the Darien loss
Bit this come wi a price
Wi bribes an spies they paved the wye
Tae load the Union dice

An syne they passed the Alien Act
Tae ootlaw Scots estates
Held ower he border...add tae thon
They closed their tradin gates

Nae Scottish linen, cattle, coal
Scots micht tae England sell
Nor could we ship oor goods ootower
Tae lans colonial

Bit sign the Acts o Union?
(ev'n wi bribery recompensed)
For ilkie Scotsman for it
There war ninety-nine against

Nae ae petition socht it
Faith, the belfry o St Giles
Played a lament tae greet it
Riots filled the Scottish jyles

Syne on a Mey-day, it wis signed
The first day o Beltane
The Scottish Parliament maun close
Tae Westminster it's gaen

0 Lunnon wis a vauntie place
The hame o Brandy Nan
Bit hyne awa frae Scots concerns
The coort o fat Queen Anne

The legal system, schule an kirk
These things alane war keepit
The end a an auld sang
An sae, the Scottish lion sleepit


27.A New Sang: 1999

Fin Devolution mornin dawned
Auld Embro toun wis thrang
The Officer in Chairge quo
It's the start o a new sang'

`There shall be a Scots Parliament'
Is screived aroon the mace
Wi wisdom an integrity
An justice ower its face

Tae Holyrood,5 million fowk
In Scotland, look for order
Echt regions, frae the Ooter Isles
Doon tae the English border

Food Standards, Transport, Social Wirk
Fisheries, Justice, Hoosin
Police, Fire Services an Health
As weel's Tourism, Sport an Trainin

Fermin an Education
An local government
Culture an Social Care likewise
Care o Environment

MSPs meet campaignin groups
They veesit factories
Rin surgeries fur constituents
An sit on committees

They vote upon petitions
Meet researchers an debate
Screive speeches, answer mail
An vote upon affairs o state

The media wauk aside them...
The reporters in the press
Ensure they dae their job richt.
They maun aa oor needs address

Fur noo we hae twa parliaments,
the Thrissle telt the Rose
The wheel has birled fu circle
an on the story goes!


28.Mr McPeenge

Mr McPeenge wis a dominie...hard an lang he taught
It wis a gey begeck fin a littlin he'd lang forgot
Grew up an chappt on the door
Liftit the snib on Mr McPeenge's life.

The steeny front hid an unca stammygaster
Ahin authority's waa, aa wis in heich disorder
McPeenge wis an auncient monument, cad aff its stot
Mount Olympus, the deid-chakk in its throat
A cheena cup wi tea-stains roon the border


29.The Cottonwool Kid of S2B

The cottonwool kid has a bra stapped fu
Wi threids an thrummles an tooshts o oo
Her waist is nippit, her hochs are hippit
Her heels are stilettos, her tights are rippit
Her mascara's mingin, her lipstick's clartit
Her perfume guffs like a coo that's fartit

The cottonwool kid winna let ye doon
She winna girn an she'll niver froon
Gin vets selt friens an ye speired fur a pet
The cottonwool kid is the best ye'd get
She'll niver clype an if on the stair
Gaun up tae Science, a bully's there
She's niver feart. Na, she'll jist square up