The Pierrot's Narrative (16 Scots Poems) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

1.The Daith o Merlin

The wizard, Merlin, dreed his weird
In Stobo, ower the altarstane
For here, St Kentigern made
Him Christian, baith in fact an name

Neist day he met the three-fauld end
Lang-propheseed that he wad dee
Sae passed awa the greatest Lord
In aa the haas o Druidry

Staned by the shepherds o the Queen
Hunted, and mired in bluid an dub
He slippit doon the banks o Tweed
Ontae the stakes the fish traps haud
The river turned traitor. Syne,
Gript bi the timmer spikes, he drooned.

By Drumelzier, his corp wis laid
Near whaur he got his mortal wound
Alang the Tweed the yowes graze yet
Cream roses cup the dyews o dawn
Merlin's a name writ in the mist
Whaur ay the murderous waves rin on.


2.The Wids o Snaa

The wins come wi a whimper
Intae the snaa's snare
The hoolet's laidder o holly
Leads tae a hunter's lair
Berries like draps o bluid
Hing in the frostit air.

Silent's the hut an midden,
Hoodie craa-wings flap,
Far the meen floats on a lochan
An the aik losses its sap,
An the ruthless snaa faas saftly,
Ower a booed snaadrap.

Wids are the deers' chaumer
Sic a wintry hoose!
Their reef is cloud an blizzard
They drink o winter's juice;
The adder tichtens its coils
Like a siller noose.

Wids are wechtit wi cranreuch
Like whale boats locked in a sea
Steeked in the grip o winter
They thole fit the storm can gie
Hail, like a shooer o arras,
The Sizzen's perfidy


3.A Paeon in Praise o Backies: tune Men o Harlech

Morag's backie guffs o kippers
Fooshty bedspreids, clorts o dung
Rhubarb peelins tattie sweelins
Posts wi dreepin hippens hung

Mrs Peerie's got a barbi
Q she canna licht ava
Omar Agra stots his fitba
Up agin her lavvie waa

Dinna utter't there's a futterat
Lockit in a hutch an pen
Cannie! It will takk yer haun aff
Spitfire in a glaury den

Kyle O'Reilly birls his skateboord
Roon an roon frae morn till late
He has chippit as the peintwirk
On his neebor's gairden gate

Myra Mislov's backie it is
Fu o sparkies, brickies, skips
Her extensions an their skitters
Stap a hunner cooncil skips

Backies orra, backies bonnie
Backies happit, backies seen
Reeze them oot, oor kintra's backies
They're fit keep oor cities green!


4, Rajah on a jumbo

See thon chiel on the jumbo's back
His heid wipped roon wi a turban blue
Swyte, nae gowd, fills his cotton cloots
Wi his dhoti reid roon his tooteroo

Fine, tae hurl on a jumbo's heicht
Jist the dab fur a rajah's pet
Fine tae move like a waukin hoose
Better nor bike, nor ship, nor jet


5.Auld Sea Dugs

Their een weir farawaa luiks, like they war tint
In some thick haar nae ship micht penetrate
They guff o fish an satt, o salmons' semen
Their pooches bulge wi mariners' lucky cherms

At nicht they dream o herbour hoors langsyne,
Labsters wi snappin cleuks, an scaley mermaids
Auld sea dugs cock their lugs at tidal roars
Their snoots are mirled-reid like vintage claret


6.Teem Bed

The teem bed says it aa.
It winted to be entered bi a couple
Regular or itherwise. Eftir the luv act,
It winted tae haud them close, twa pearls in an oyster.

The bed wis lanely, it needed tae be a harbour.
It needed tae be a berth tae banes an flesh
It was a thochtie like snaw at nicht

It wintit tae be a hearth fur the eftir-stang
It wintit tae be a cup far love cud sip.


7.Twa Sisters

If, fin the family hame is sounly sleepin
an the bairn hoasts in its crib
and the meen is a wersh, cracked plate
preened tae the waa o heiven

If ye could veesit the chaumer
o twa young sisters
binnorie, o binnorie, fit dae ye think ye'd fin?

`We are alane, alane, ' they micht cry
`born alane an like tae dee alane,
bit in atween, fa'll come tae tryst us oot
frae this chaumer that anely the meen an sorra veesits?

Oh we are ladies in wytin. Fa will open the screens
an luik on oor separate bodies an choose ane ower the tither?

Twa sisters, ane perjink, ane hallyrackit
baith wytin fur a fitstep at the door.


8.Leanin

Twa covers o ae hynmbuik, luvers leanin
Thegither. Love's fit gies thon couple meanin
Sic-like the Touer o Pisa, it should faa
Upheld wi anely sunlicht for a waa

Sic-like the gorblies in a hoolet's reest
That lean for warmth intae their mither's breist

Sic-like the staff o life...a daud o breid
Tae keep man upricht, on it man maun feed

Sic-like Balgownie Brig, frae bank tae bank
It leans sae traivellers aa may cross dry-shank

Whyles, aa maun hae a crutch, tae stop thon list
That cowps us sidiewyes inno the kist


9.Cat in a Tree

There aince wis a cat in a tree
Fa thocht, like a bird, she cud flee
Bit her heid wis sae big
She got jammed on a twig
Noo she canna climm doon fur her tea


10.Hello again, Grampian

Weel, Grampian, I hae bin aff on ma traivels
Hob-nobbin wi a wheen nearhaun Strathyre
Bit I aye come back tae ye, Grampian.

'Mmmphm', ye say. Ye niver say muckle

`Yer affa quate' the fowk doon yonner telt me
Bit I'd spukken fower hale sentences as wikk
An this, as ye ken, Grampian, is a lang langamachie
Fur ain o yer North East bairns.


11.Ferlies I Tint

I tint ma beads in the burn
Far the kittlin threids the seggs
Wi thrums o purrs

I tint ma name fin I wed
Till the merriege ring
Sank in the midden's glaur

I tint ma mither's kirk
Throw the harns' riddle,
Tho its spire stuck in ma craw
Like an auld cod's bane

I tint ma maidenheid
Like a coin doon quicksand
Nae amount o scrattin
Cud win it back

I tint ma waes in the wid,
Far the keekin sun
Steeked blitheness ower ma skin
A bonnie quilt

I tint ma faither
Bit fand him in ma showders
A ramrod aywis haudin
Me stinch an straicht

I tint ma fear o Daith
At the open kist
The kent face cheenged tae steen
The warmth, flittit


12.The Mither

The mould cracked fin they poored her intae mither
Bairnhood wis nae apprenticeship fur this
She'd played wi swords an rifles, like her brither

The efterstang brocht service tae anither
Thon early months o milk an tears an piss
Aa selfish thocht, aa freedom she maun smother
Add nurse, cook, skivvy tae the role o luver
Bit sooklin brocht a kind o bovine bliss
The cord's prehensile steel she'd sune discover
Duty an luve are pouerfu yoked thegither
Twin chynes that rugged her back frae the abyss
The tides o bluid rin deep, arnae fair-weather

Aa bairns are blended whisky...hauf the faither
Hauf mither, speerit, rowed in a fite dress
Syne, fur tradition, blessed wi haly watter
Somewye a sacrifice at a high altar
Wis vrocht, the meenit that she booed tae kiss
The newborn bairn. Her neck accepts the halter

It's far ower late tae rewind fate, dae better
Like baas thrown at a fair, some bowls ye miss
There is nae re-sit course fur a begetter
In ilkie Eden, happit serpents hiss


13.Rowantree

Reid rowan rings the cradle
O the littlin, gin the derk
Widdershins, comes bringin in
A changelin bairn, in borraed sark.
Nicht-time warlocks at their wark

Tie the rowan, ticht an guid
Reet this seely, weirie-tree
Eildritch, sae that luck an licht
Evermair will follae ye


14.Puil at Dhanakosa

Plap the paddock plyters ben
Up an doon the sappy brae
In his jaiket, emerant green
Like a creashie-belly't fey

At the foun o segg an weet
Treetlin a splay fittit breet
Doverin dunderheidit flooers
Hing like bells the bummers ring
Anthem o blinkbonnie oors
Nestin swifties skyte an sing

Aathin's growth. The Sizzen staps
Kists o pollen in the sheugh
Ower the hairstin wings o bees
Saftly, simmer breezes sooch
Autumn, syne, will cry 'Eneuch'


15.Sebastian in a Dwaum A Scots Owersett o a poem bi Georg Trakl (1887-1914)

Mither cairriet the wee bairn in the fite meen,
In the shadda o a walnut, o the auncient elder
Fu wi the bree o poppies, the coronach o the mavis
An seelent. A fuskeret physog fu o peety booed abeen her.
Saft the windae's derkness; on the forebears' auld gear
Lay dwinin, luv in an Autumn dwaum.

Sic-like derk the day o the year, dowie bairnhood,
Fan the loon saftly cam doon tae cweel watter.
Siller fishes, quaet on countenance,
Fin he haived hissel steenily afore breengin blaik shelts
An his starnie cam ower him in grey nicht
Or fan he crossed St Peter's Autumn mools
In the gloamin, haudin his mither's ice-caul haun

A delicate corp lay seelent in the chaumer's derk
An liftit its cauld eelids ower him.
Bit he wis a wee bird on nyaakit branches
The bell lang in Novemmer gloam
His faither's seelence fan in sleep he cam doon
The gloamin's twinin stair
The sowl's quaet. Lanely Yuletide nicht
The derk makkk o shepherds bi the auld puil;
A wee bairn in a strae hut; o foo saft
Its physog dwined awa in blaik fevers Haly nicht.

Or, fan haudin his faither's hard haun
He wauked in seelence up Ben Calvary
An in the gloamin neuks o rock
The blae makk o Man stravaiged throw his legend
An purple bluid ran frae a hurt aneth the hairt
O foo saft the cross raise in the derk sowl
Luv, fin in blaik crannies the snaa thawed
A blae sooch o win played peaceful ben the auld elder
In the shadda-vault o the walnut
An the loon's crammosie Angel stude saft afore him

Bytheness, fan in cweel chaumers a sonata soundit at gloam
An in broon timmer beams
A blae butterflee creepit frae its siler chrysallis
O the near-haunness o daith. In the steen waa
A yalla heid booed, the bairn seelent
While thon Merch the meen crummlit
Reid daffie in the kirkyaird vault o nicht
An the siller voices o the starnies
Sae that a derk wud-ness sank chitterin
Frae the sleeper's broo.
O foo quaet a wauk doon the blae burn
Thinkin on tint ferlies while in green boughs
The mavis cried unkent ferlies intae crocanation
Or fan, haudin the auld chiel's beeny haun
He wauked in the gloam ayont the crummlit city waa
An the chiel cairriet a wee reid bairn in his blaik jaiket
The speerit o coorseness appeared in the walnut's shadda

Sclimmin ower the green steps o simmer, o foo saft
The gairden dwined in the broon seelence o Autumn
Guff an was o the auld elder, fan in Sebastian's shadda
The siller soun o the Angel deid awa.


16.Owersetts inno Scots, o threads an thrummles taen frae the wark o Rene Char (1907-1988)

The nicht, a heich clachan o birds
Giein it laldy, flees by

Fan the young chiel gaed on his wye
Gloamin lay on yer face like a stane

A sang feenishes exile
The lammie-win brings back fresh growthe

Apairt frae ye, may ma flesh
Be the sail that cooers frae the win

A birdsang gies the foreneen's branch a begeck

I wis naethin mair thon day than twa shanks waukin
Ma veesion dwined, a zero in the mids o ma face

In the park at Nevons the girse-lowper sleeps
Fite cranreuch an hail bring Autumn in
An the win decides fit'll fa first,
Leaves or nesties.

Sic a sang is the cushie-doo's fin the shooer draws near
The air is poodered wi smirr, wi ghaistly sunlicht I
waken washed, I thaw as I rise
I gaither the douce lift

Foo this road rather nur thon?
Cryin us on sae urgent, far dis it lead?
Fit trees an friens are alive ahin
The horizons o thon stanes?