Fite Doo Black Crow (74 Scots Poems)

1. Gowd Dwined till a dwaum yon moss-green kindly een, His sang that raise as a shout Fin his warld wis young, crined till a myowt Late, fin his reel ran deen. The barfit loon that bedd in the auld man’s skin Wid lowp like a bawd, clean mad tae rin Hyne back, swack fur a swippert morn Fin soun an taste an sicht, War green as brierin corn An friens war flesh an bluid, Nae thochts forlorn. The airm aince braid’s a branch Dweebled, a shakkin sheaf. The haun that gentled ma bairnhood, Drappit, a tummlit leaf. I cudna kepp his step, Tho the road he wauked grew roch The burn maun rin its lane, Till it reests it the loch. Fowk saw a gutterin caunle, Bauchled sheen an claes. I saw a guidin licht, Frae the bairntime o ma days Garrin me ken the wirth, o beauty in brae an cloud. I luiked on an auld deen man, An I saw gowd. 2.HAIRST-HEIRSKIP The baler rummles the strae Tirred, til a tousie oxterfu Bricht bourichs on the brae. Caff flees in gowden styew As the bales dunt on the park In the hash an fash tae be throw Er the mochy glimmer o dark. The hairsters yark The strae, atap o the timmer cairt, Swyte-weet, back-bared i the sun Ah, sweet the time faas tee Fin the hairst's near won Teemed o crap an fowk The plundered yird lies weet; The rigs are glaury smush That the rain wi’ts futterat's feet Kirns til a sypin soss. Widlan's a chittered goun, Mist mells wi the moss. Forefaither's bluid lies laired Far the breem an the brae are paired; Happen ma gangrel fit, ilk divot o dirt Clings like a bairn Tae the tail o'ts mither's skirt. The yird o the muir wid swallaw a body hale For men are caff, an the fairm is a muckle flail; In the toun wi’ts tawdry trock Aa's gain, aa's get. Wauk twa steps back, Hairst-heirskip hauds me yet. 3. VIVA AIBERDEEN Lovers cuddlin bi the sea Yon wid melt a slider Fit's yon paiddlin in ma tea? Gyad. A muckle spider. Neive wi posies o ice cream Cones wi chocolate, tappit, Wi a beam as braid's yon deem, I wad keep it happit. Strings o puddens neth the sun, Streekit roon the bay, Weirin dookers roon their bums Ticht's a tourniquet. Bowdie legs o grey grandames Hairy Harrys, toastin hams Greetin girners, dowped in prams; Seaside roundelay Les vacances on Cote d'Azur? Rarer sichts at hame Rubislaw Den wi'oot its fur, Lowpin ben the faem. Haute cuisine? A halesome rowie Yon's the best patisserie. Haud awa frae soor salami; Buckies, biled in Torry bree! Arab fez? Pittodrie tammie. Aiberdeen'll dae fur me 4. MUIR o DINNET Hard bi the heath, the loch-fowk lie In the raxxin reeds far peesies cry An the Culblean braes that ran wi reid Saw clash o arms, o the nameless deid Sit douce and snod; A brimmin bowl o hedder bree In the lap o God. The yalla's teetin oot o the whins The wids are birrin wi birdie dins Bummers bizz a hinneyed hum Cryin 'Come lass, come.' The burn is jinkin, bricht's a preen Leerie-licht o a brukken mune Waves are cuppit wi gowden shine The win is shudderin birk an pine An the muir-is mine. 5.THE ROUP. The auctioneer held haimmer ower a bid; Heistin his eyebroos heich, as if tae speir Fit price a lifetime's hairst, ingaithered? The blatterin win, rattled the hard-won gear. Aince, thon braes stude deep in gowden stooks, Reeshlin wi corn. Brambles wad entice Birds frae their nests, bumbees frae shady neuks A bairn's, and a futterat's paradise. The rigs war kirned tae smush in the melee The byre, selt doon tae pails, kerfuffled towe. An antique dealer cocked a kennin ee- The ashets wad be pairtit frae the knowe. A roup's fur buyers. Kinsmen sudna bide. Fit price a simmer's day, an autumn nicht? Dowie, I turned ma fitstep frae its side, Yet, cudna lowse the towes that held me ticht. 6.CARN-NA-CUIMHNE (Muster cairn of Clan Farquharson.) Whaur sun's a blin an a blearie ee A well o licht, in a gurly sea An the Dee rins flat as a braid claymore The hips an haws that bluidy the shore Are hard as the studs o a clansman's shield The briar stauns guard-she'll niver yield The muster cairn, tae the furrowed lan For ilkie stane is a fallen man. The barbs o fence, like dragons' teeth Ring fierce the cairn wi beards o fleece; Niver will craven yowes wauk here Through larick's grief, tae the warriors' bier Bide bit a whyle, fur wi the mirk Secret an sair as a foeman's dirk Yon's niver the sough o win an rain Bit the waesome greet o loss an pain O faitherless bairns an unwed wives An the fiery cross, that burned mens' lives Carn-na-cuimhne-the stanes spik bluid The name lives on- bit the men are deid 7.A STANE B' THE ALLT DARRARIE, SPITTAL 0 GLEN MUICK Bonnie muirlan stane, Egg nestled on the grun, A tear-drap neth the air, Salmon-speckled cone, Rarer nor ony pearl, Gin I cud unsteek ye, Keek at yer core, Whit ferlies wid be there? Born o win an fire in the deid langsyne, Dung frae the derk intimmers o this birlin warld, Cweeled b' frichtsome cauld, Ye've seen sic mervels- auld Hairsts o pathless pine, Crofts, yalla corn-lands dwined Doon til the bare peat. Ca'd nae man maister- Laird o the brae's beat. Mormaers o Mar Were as a teuchit storm. Ye’vemail agin the hail o ony spate; Even Huntly, wi his tow-rag retinue. Ye gaed yer ain gate, Keepit yer ain estate, in the dowie dew. Passed, like a sma simmer, Drover, crofter, smuggler, Sodjer, that stude the shak o war, Blawn leaves, i' the win trimmer. Bonnie muirlan stane, Shard o mountain's bane, Hid ye the tongue tae spik, the braith tae tell, I'd listen, till the crack o Doom itsel 8. SNA A silent sameness, happt wi caul, The sna devours the lan wi nae devaul. Maks mockerie o milestanes, Soun faas thin. I like the sna, Nae tracks that bide Ae shift o the win An aa's creation-clean As a braid tide. 9. FIR WID for Jessie Kesson. I like tae lie deep doon In a Scots fir wid. It disna sook, nor cling It's a phalanx o sword, wi adequate room fur manoeuvre In the resin kingdom, a fir is dragon-green It is honed tae rescind Corruption, a timmer sanctuary. A fir is a Saint Sebastian. Scourged, it'll bleed in martyrdom, Withooten a sab, or a sigh. Manly as ony Lysander; A column o Spartan virr Sae unlike the flummery cloud pomander o birk, wi its wummin's wyes That shifts an pairts the skies Whyles seen, whyles hid. A trimmel o meevin grace Is a Scots fir wid 10. PALETTE Reid. Hips an haws. Hairt's bluid. Blue. Forget-me-not. Rue. Yalla. Coordy, gay. Breem spray. Green. Meevin girse. Black. Grievin, hearse. Broon. Peat burn, whummlin doon. Purple. Heather, thyme. Thon's mine. 11. THE YIRD AN THE MEEN She stude, a mystic mirror, A vauntie, siller queen The barren mistress o the derk The prood an preenin meen. Alang the nicht, her moonbeams sped, They skinklet at her wird Bit aa her lustrous glamourie Wis wastit on the yird. Twa stranger-sisters, kept apairt, By Fate's meridian The lunar leddie niver rocks The cradle o the lan. The meen's a daithly galleon, A cauld, celestial steen. The yird may rule the derk aneth, Niver the licht, abeen. 12. WINTER BURIAL, TULLICH Wummin, licht, warmth. Aa are a birth token. Dowie, the derksome hills. Mither Eird lies open, Ugsome as a wound. The cycle o life is brukken. Winter furls eldritch, aroon. A kinsman's airm, steadies a booed back. Branches, tap o the Dee, Tummel an droon. The on-ding gars us grue, Like deer, flegged bi the cull We coorie close, i' the smirr. The river roars in ma lug; Kent landscapes blur, As mens' cauld hauns Set doon the lanely kist. I chitter, bit nae wi caul. The Eird hoose, has ae door, An that door, steekit. Wechty wi grief, Wi dule an flooers, theekit. 13. OF TRAVEL Furreign destinations are fur fowk fa likes tae raik. Tae me, they're bit the harrigals - the puddens o a haik. Yet, set me doon b' Lochnagar, or twenty miles aroon It's as though I'd tint a bawbee, syne I'd pickit up a poun Like a bowfin collie tykie, waggin umpteen cheerie tails Or an interceety speecial, turryumptin doon the rails Gie's a sma soupcon o heather, gie's a coup de grace o pine An the same auld magic hauds me, I'm a salmon, on the line 14. THE SWICK For Dr. & Mrs L.K.Dawson, Skene. If there be ain fa canna see The beauty o the North Fa canna hear the soundin geese That cry his fitsteps forth, He maun be blin-an deef, forby, A kiln o crackit clay. There's nae a haa, be't biggit braw Can match a Heilan brae! Far ilkie burn is wingin weet An ilkie win is fair I fain wad be, bit haud ma seat, A gyangin fit, nae mair. The geese cry doon their muirlan spik ¬I ken that I maun bide Bit oh, my thochts they race like rikk Straucht fur a mountainside. This fleshly shell is bit a swick The hairt o me's awa It's ower the Spittal o Glen Muick The mountains claim it aa 15. BALLATER BAIRNHOOD A pictur, bricht on the broo, O cantie streets, in the hap o a caller glen. Trig biggins, kirk, an green, A birn fur shops, stappit wi Celtic braws The warld steered throw, an ben. Nichtly, a cracklin lowe Bankit wi peat an dross; Tossin, in touzelt bedclaes, The win, heich in the Pass Wad dirl in ma lug. Aside the winnock-pane A stag, sherp-antlered, Glowered frae a frame. A simmer storm... the gurly grue o thunner; Lichtnin's yalla fork ootflang the Dee. Ma cradle-soun, fur lullaby, The soople, breengin wave.A wheep-lashed tree... I'd rise, tae yoam o new-made bakin breid An ilkie day an invite tae a ploy Fir-widded hidey-holes, deep, dookin puils Fit bairn wad speir a tawdry trashy toy Wi sic a rowth o airts tae splore alang? Sic bonnie roads, a gangrel geet cud gyang The barrack gate's ajee. The pibroch skirls. The guard's ahin the mace. The pipes, the Games, the challenge o the race We'd rin richt swippertly. Aneth the rugged rocks o Lochnagar Best-loued o clachans, coories Ballater. 16. THE LECHT Wis there iver sic a road as thon? The planner maun been fou It dings yer pech intil yer pooch Yer hairt intil yer mou Divil 's Elbow? Divil's Oxter It's a rhyme wi'oot a rule It's a humfy-backit helter-skelter Baa o raivelt wool. Ae meenit yer an eagle Wi an eyrie an a prayer (For yer hingin b' yer taenails Ower a cloud that isna there) . The neist, yer wheekit forrit, Yer the reek gaun up a lum Syne a dervish on the dander Duntin doon tae Kingdom Come. A nippy, nesty, neukit road A road o rise an drap Wi a curse at ilkie corner Frae the boddom till the tap 17. GANGREL'S SANG At nicht fin the bairns are bedded doon The hash o the day set by I clim the stairs, as a wife maun dee An lie, far a wife maun lie. Twa sleepers, close as braith itsel Rowed in the linen fine His een shut, peacefu, calm an quate The restless dark in mine. Fain wad I slip till a braid, braid muir Wi the wins that hae nae hame Rin wi the stag, an the secret deer Far the settin sun's a flame. Nae mist sae thick, bit love can pierce't An the cry o the geese rings free. Hearth an hoose are his hale delicht It's a far road beckons me. Bound an wound b' a band o gowd Twined- bit jined in nocht. He raxxes oot tae touch a wife¬ I turn, tae haud a thocht. 18. EMBRO TOUN for Tom Hubbard Salt on yer tail-she's a hotter in stew O the kent, the fremmit, the auld, the new The cassie-claik 0 the Embro hures Rikkin an rerr as Turkish flooers Fur coat frills on a bare bumbee, Is the show a stoater? Pye an see: Clinkin thochts are a chinkin glaiss Wit is gowd, an pretension's braisse Dour an dozent, or sherp's a gleg Are they takkin the rise? Are they pullin yer leg? In howf, or close, or a wee stairheid Bards in the makkin, bards lang deid Shak doon wirds like a watter spoot Ideas fixes a cloot wrung oot Haive yer havers heich on the pyre Gin ye'll nae thole heat-bide ooto the fire Embro toun-yer a blacksmith's haimmer Scotia's anvil-strike ye limmer: 19. The Tattie Ane twa three fin I wis wee I eased tae ett a tattie Noo I’m fower I’m oot the door An aabodfy caas me fattie 20. HEILAN TOAST For the members of the Deeside Field Club Some pledge a health wi usquebaugh An ithers, wi the wine. I'd mairry malt an watter Tae drink tae thee, an thine. An wi the fire, I'd wed the ice Jine wi the dram, the Dee For peat an pleisur perfect blend In cauld sna bree 21.SEA-SANG For Dr J.D.Gomersall.... and Yorkshire good sense. Burn, a mountain teems brak-neck, Nerra mill-lade, breengin beck, Ilk an ivry tribut'ry, Sikks the sea's simplicity. Inby oceans, aa is ane Skaith an tribble's dished, an dane, Doon the oyster 0 the deep Aa the morns, coddlit, sleep. Bairn-claes 0 nestlin-new Mizzle-mornin brings the dew Rain-lift, wingin mirrors sma, Sycamore's a wattergaw Vanity maun aye caress Glamourie 0 keekin-glaiss Lythe, the watter hauds a luik, Powk the pictur-bladd the buik. Lapis Lazuli,0 OM Timeless as a metronome, Yon's the ocean, hale, complete, Far the jynin circles meet 22. Amo Amas (traditional, Migvie) Amo amas I lued a lass An she wis tall an slender Amas amat she caad me flat An dang me ower the fender 23. THE WIN For Brian & Mary Wright, Prony Farm, Glen Gairn. The win that shaks the trees this nicht Brings comfort in its lee, I ken it's roved by dark Ben A'n And skimmed the waves 0 Dee. It cairries hinny in its airm o bog, an birk, an pine, It is a balm upon the broo A sprig 0 simmertime. It's niver smored in hoose nor ha Whaur aa is close an cribbed Nor riven at a reeky waa Whaur ilkie door is snubbed Nor scoored the stoury staney braes o fairm toun or howe Whaur river is a drouthy ditch An tree's a blichtit bough. The win that shaks the tree this nicht I claim it, fur ma ain An wi the eagle an the lark Wad choose it, fur a hame 24. VANISHING ABERDEEN Fin I wis wee, I chased the sea I catched it, syne it drookit me It made me cannie, hardy, thrawn, In short, an Aiberdonian 25. WATTER For Charles & Vera King. Gin wirds war watter, Oh the ploys I'd try I'd dook me, dyeuk-delichtfu, Drookit in puils o the things: Guddle fur oors, Doonin a fyew wee drams 0 the real Mackay. Oh ay, I wadna waste wan dreep: I'm nae philosopher, Catchin' wirds in tumblers. I'm nae scientist, Giein them tags an numbers Under a wee umbrella, Watchin them faa tae the grun. -I'm nae feart tae get weet. I'm the fish in the linn. Poetry's fun. 26. LINN 0 QUOICH For Mr James Forbes, The Square, Tarland. War I a stane at Linn 0 Quoich, I’d rule like ony queen. The velvet win wad mantle me, The bonnie birk sae green, An fur my Royal vanities, The frost wad jewel my neck. The simmer sun wad gowd my heid The rain, my breist bedeck, An I'd be Lady 0 the mist An lord it ower the lave. A curlew'd gie me minstrelsie, Yon skimmer 0 the wave, My bard would be the salmon, He wad cheer me, near an far¬ An I wad be as vauntie, syne, As ony Earl 0 Mar~ 27. THE AIN THAT GOT AWA Fin fishy tales wir bandied, he wis keepit in his neuk For feint the fish he'd guddled, or inveiglet on his hook. Bit fowk got a stammygaster, fin the lad began tae craw For they'd niver heard the marra,0 the ain that got awa. The tale 0 this monstrosity held aabody enthralled Its mou wis that enormous twid hae swallowed Invercau1d, An spikkin 0 its pectorals-he wisna gaun tae b1aw¬ They'd hae shei1ed the Lecht, nae bother, o a hunnerwecht o sna Its scales wis hard an horny, like a muckle pleuin share. Fin it 1oupit up, the Dee drap't doon, a fifty feet n' mair An its een, twa flashin heid1ichts, wid hae petrifeed a craw Man-there wisnae ony haudin it -the ain that got awa. I creepit doon tae spy it, far it lay aneth the puil It wadna filled a hanky, let alane a fishin reel Bit I’ll keep his secret siccar tho his fabled fish is sma For we’ve aa a tale tae tell aboot the ain that got awa 28.The Puddock The puddock lowpit inno the puil The watter wis thrang wi flees He lay on his back an he snappit them up A puddock, takkin his ease 29.THE TRYST I met Anither, b' the burnie's rim, A bairn, wi violets dauncin in her een An lauchter reamin there, sic joy As airches like a wattergaw, ben quate puils Puin the antrin buttercup, she wis, tae kepp the rain Rowed in her lamb-new war1d, Bairnie, an burnie, ain. I met Anither, b' the burnie's rim, A quine, fa wished the burnie fur hersel, An wadna share the pleisur o its grace. The burnie rowed its lane. I met Anither, b' the burnie's rim, A wummin, warld-ferfochan, castin her gley Aften an aften, far the ripples blent A perched oasis, sikkin nourishment. The burnie catcht the pictur o aa three, The muckle keep, the keeper an the key. Three Russian dalls, bit fit wis cherished maist I's cudna ken, the watter ran sae faist Ilk pictur wis masel, a three-in-ain Triptych 0 passin time. The rain began tae dwine, The pictur slipt frae sicht An aa wis watter, Leafiness, An 1icht. 30.DOOKIN Delicht taks mony forms, Yet dookin in watter's the Prince o the gowden keys. The troot in me splurges gledsome, Breengin up, in a Halloween 0 a b1eeze o p1eisur, warm as a sun-bolt, Piercin the bird-bricht, swippert, Licht-fit, reesh1in trees. Dookin in watter is ridin the win on the wing 0 a whaup 0 will. Waves are the gangre1 geese Blawn doon frae the hyne-aff hill; They lap me roon, like a host, Greetin a frien lang-lost. A droothy, dirt-dry deer, I steep ma step in yon life-giein tide Like a bar-fit cock-a-bendy, In the burn far aa watters meet¬ That kirn 0 shimmer an weet Poored frae the clouds, Frae the teemin horn 0 plenty... Raindraps glimmer like grain, A sowin 0 watter's seed, Makkin a sweet refrain In ma salmon's bluid 31.ADDER Meetin the warld wi a fleerish, Ye are.... A monkish illumination A hotterin, Hecate hiss A blaik italic scroll. A rigmarole As lang as a swippert Ganges, A Tiber, Euphrates, A san-slidderin, nerra Nile. A belt 0 a banner 0 Birlin, burnished steel. Adder, Unsheathed frae yon scabbard 0 scales, Ye are a glimsk in the glaur, o guile. A glimmer 0 gloamin glamourie. Ye are a nimbus 0 serpent cherm. Unfurlin, ye sweesh ben the hedder A chieftain's gowden bracelet Wyvin alang an airm.. Like a slithery vine Like a heelstergowdie gird, Like a pentit dauncin Salome Laigh, i' the dreichsome yird. Yer wee sherp tongue Powks the air like a forkit twig Oh wisp 0 siller rikk Wi the speed 0 a whirligig, The sun-b1eeze heich in yer een Like a burnin lowe Adder, Ye are an eldritch enchantress Spig 0 a Celtic priestess Queen 0 the warlock's knowe. 32.LEAF Tak ae wee leaf. A piper 0 thin notes In ony back-green symphony, Its widlan warld, thir1ed tae the hum 0 1eevin. Vibrancy 0 rain (Surely it wid reca) Aince glimmered alang its stem. Yet, in dreichsome, deid December Fin the rime hings on the waa Ryped 0 its April dream It is onythin bit serene. Blawn ower the snaw It furls an furls awa In visible antipathy. Is twal month auld, Is niver twal month young. A tapsalteerie crab, Wersh, catatonic, drab, It murns in the weety cauld Its mony sangs unsung, wi some abhorrence Kennin the tune bi hairt; Swicked 0 repeat performance. 33.VAN GOGH Sunlicht kens nae bounds Nur yet the win, the ticht grip o haudin. Nae tetherin the towes 0 fancy That can slip reality As quick as simmer rain. The yird may bind yon eident fingers, Mount its graissy guardians Ower his troubled heid That kent ower weel A rowth 0 wirdly pain. He pyed sair wages fur his skeeliness. Charon, sma's yer gain. Grun an the starny lift Foraye are sundered. Yird's bit the keeper o the orra cloots 0 mortal man Flesh-framed fur blicht. Ower mony a Norlan nicht, The stars reflect the glimmer, aybydan, Particles, o yon gyte Dutchman's licht. 34.FOR JOSEPH FARQUHARSON, R.A. LAIRD OF FINZEAN An whau gaed ye the power, man? An whau gaed ye the airt? Tae catch the lowe 0 gloamin? Tae brak a body's hairt? Whaur did ye learn, tae paint the win The sab,0 Autumn nicht? The eildrich mists 0 eventide The gossamer 0 licht? o skeelie, skeelie wis the han That drew his native braes Wha kent the sadness,0 the lan On waesome, winter days... An when he won awa, man They surely saved a space Aroon the table 0 the blessed The Laird 0' Finzean's place: 35.AT THE GALLERY ABERDEEN ARTIST'S 52ND EXHIBITION Raws 0 windaes, picturs. Framed thocht, Spotlichts umpteen interiors. Etchins are perjink, Best-tie-an-dickie, Cannily vrocht. Action-stopper: Kamikazi colour Hollers a hulloo. There's a swatch 0 stane... I ettle tae stroke it, Thirled as ony lover Lang octaves, Played on the Nor' East lan'scape Saft's a watergaw, Pink's a blush They strum me vibrant; Leesome voices, 0 lush Silence, the mony tongues 0 image Lick me a mockin gleam~ In the gallery, I staun, a greivin Orpheus Murnin Eurydice. My sang unwinted, Wee, an teem. A wraith 0 grey Amangst the leevin green. 36. PSYCHIATRIST Cam richt oot wi’t. 'Stop slidin ben the waa, ' He said. 'Cept he didna spik common On his pye, ye widna, wid ye? 'Haud yer heid up. Look the warld in the face Like a fully-pensioned member o the human race.' Nae fears. Nae me. Last time I looked, ken whit? It gobbed, richt in ma ee. 'Jist let it aa oot, ' says he. Naethin. Mair naethin, Scots mist, missed. This is terrible, thinks I I'll mak somethin up. (Us social inadequates bein helluva fly) . Gie him the patter... 'An whit's your assessment, my dear, The crux 0 the matter? ' 'Yon tree oot the windae's Timmer an sap Gin it rots, ye cut it doon Ye'll nae tap me I'm nae a bluidy tree.' 'Oh, ah see, ' he says, 'Ah see ' Hodgin in his seat Straichtenin the tramlines On his intercity suit Samplin soor grapes An inferior brand o cairry-oot. 37.QUASIMODO The sweet rot 0 the bramble buss, Scratched entanglement 0 firs, Places 0 half licht, Are jungles 0 concealment. Shaddaes, lang i the sun, Cannibalised, amang a wab 0 jylers. A wounded boar, riven wi spears Will drag its dreepin spoor Alang the daithly puddock steel Far few daur gang. I turn my spears, in their kent agonies Watchin them bleed in secret; Drag my Achilles heel, Disdainin calipers, The quasimodo hump, sae weel Attached, I canna lay it doon, An wid be tint wi'oot... True Tammas, wi his honest tongue Sisyphus, wi his stane, The fykes an flecks 0 An ill load, culled, In the pebble wame, Oot-scalin 0 insanity. Cauld comfort, Wi the cosie name, o poetry. 38. TOUCH Fingerens dreepit in rain, clay, dubs, (Yon primal mellin 0 yird an watter) It's jeelin, creatin a feelin In mouldable dust, mair eloquent, vital, potent Nor an air-bubble burst 0 wird.. Foo absurd is the teddy bear cosie Bairnie's bosie o smoorichan wastit on fur Tamed, stuffed, breet, Hard as a dummy's teat Close as a sticky burr Fingerens strokit on silk On a comfy bowster Are warm as a mither's milk. Fingerens neist tae skin Can be jobby as whin Can be sair as sin... Tae bairns, a wirm is a kittle A bummer's a sting. They are pairt o ilk weet an windy Spring Anely bairnies an lovers touch It's fear, tae be here, an felt, Tae hae, is tae haud. The game 0 catchie's The brierin 0 fleggin Niver be catched an kepped Niver be preened an nailed On a cross 0 anither's settin. Touch can be devastatin. 39. INSTINCT for James Michie, Director of Education The umbilical cord's nae cut, Bit, nuzzlin, guzzlin, sookin Pure, warm, soothin pleisur The new-born kens the richt road Natural as breathin. A grippit pencil fittit. Seemed my fingers war Fashioned fur it A hale page, Fite's a whisper Eggin ye on. Willin ye Come on then, Cheenge me. Mak yer mark. Willin ye Shape me, Set something doon~ Lang teem vase, Thirsty fur watter. Natural as breathin. 40. AIR RAID SHELTER At the siren's wail, At the first sign 0 trouble, Ah dinnae rin for an air raid shelter. Ah'm nae an ostrich, Nae san here, Could ye nae jist pictir an ostrich, Wi' a dubby heid? At the siren's wail, At the first sign 0 trouble, Ah dinnae rin for the pub, Sweel doon beer, Till the bottle's deid. At the siren's wail, At the first sign 0 trouble, Ah'm an oddity Ah write poetry. Louis Aragon died on Christmas Eve,1982, aged 85. 'Buts an Bens' is a resetting in Scots of his poem, Les Chambres, (1969) 41.BUTS AN BENS For Dr. Asso &Jenny de Alwis, Brantford, Ontario Aa the rooms 0 ma life Wull hae thrappled me wi their waas. Yonner, the mummlin's smored The screichs brak aff. Thonner I bed alane Wi muckle teem strides Thonner, They keepit their auld ghaists The rooms 0 indifference. The rooms 0 grue, an the ane set richt trig, the better tae dee in't, cauldly, Brocht pleisur, fey nichts. There's rooms far bonnier than the stoonds 0 love, There's rooms that YE'D think naethin by-ordnar, There's rooms 0 seekin, Rooms 0 blearie licht, Rooms ready fur onythin bit gledness. There's rooms for aye ma ain, wi ma bluid Spleutered. Inby ilk room, a morn daws that a body Flays hissel hale... That he draps tull his knees in, priggin fur mercy That he hubbers, an teems hissel in, like a glaiss Tholin the damned-dreid sairs 0 the times Slaw Dervish, the time is roon, that turns on him, Fa owerluiks The quarterin 0 his weird An the laich sough,0 du1e, afore the Oors, the halves I niver ken gin it's gaun tae strik ma daith Ilk rooms a judgement-coort In whi1k I ken ma meisur, an the keekin-glaiss Disna forgie me. Aa rooms, at the hinner-en, fin I steeked ma een Hae cast ower me a skaith 0 widden-dremes Till I cudna say fit's waur, Dwaumin, or 1eevin. 42. THE OPEN YETT for the members 0 the Scots Language Society There's a yett that aye bides open, There's a gean that's iver green, There's a gledsome cup that's brimmin, Tho aathin else be teem; There's a far, far road that's windin A stair frae a cellar dark That leads till a bud-fu gairden An a cloud, that kens nae mark. Finiver I feel ferfochan, Finiver the warld is blae, Like a caunlelicht in the gloamin Like the sun that taps the day, I kick the stoor 0 trauchle, o wretchedness aside An rin, a loose-lowsed sheltie, Far the dwaums o bairnhood bide. An there, a spleet-new craitur Wi’ts innocent-open een I find a bield an a benison In the memries 0 yestreen. Nae trauchle iver enters Nae dreich, or waesome thocht For yon's tha lan' 0 Paradise Its yett, unyirdly-vrocht. A brierin swatch 0 happiness, A skirp 0 the gowden whin, Tho aa aroon be naethingness The grey grey nicht, abune. 43. Amo Amas (traditional) Amo amas I lued a lass An she wis tall an slender Amas amat she caad me flat An dang me ower the fender 44. DORIC for Robbie Shepherd Saft, Suddron spik, that iles the converse o a fremmit lan Will ay be the rib 0 Cain Tae the stinch, roch wirds Quarried frae centuries, we ain. Smeddum's a wird'll thole Thin hairsts, the blatter 0 reivin sizzens. Aybydan, thrawn. Yon merks wir Nor East Scots¬ A tongue baith braid, an braw, Nae a Joseph's coat, fur polyglots. Ye speir, gin Doric's deid? A cannie tod, I'll nae deny It whyles ducks its heid Rinnin tae grun Afore the antrin dominie, (A wid-be Edward, haimmer in haun, Cockin his Judas-gun) Ye may keep yer Suddron rose, Kittle, an coy, an smert The nettle I wid grip, Is the Nor East Airt 45. SECUNT BIRTH Weel-faired as a fresco bi Raphael, 'Madonna and Son' A bonnielike basket, bucklet thegither, A buckie, sookin the pap 0 the boun'less sea Man-babe, an its mither. She wis his meal an ale, His bield, in onchancy widder Sic weirds she wad wyve on her wab A tapestry blythe fur her bairn, 0 vouchsafed pleisur~ The littlin becam a loon, Sweir tae daunder his lane, shuggily aroon the foun His powe wis a corbie's wing, happin an opal broo. Warm wis the neb 0 him, noozlin, Pleisunt his moo, nyum-nyumin, Lichtsome his threep, curmurrin, The smaaest fleg caad him.rinnin, Up tae her cradlin bosie; The guff 0 him, kent an cosie. His warld grew braider He turned on her, traitor, The knap 0 his tyrant fit Gart the waas 0 Jericho cowp Her regency doon on its dowp. He strode frae the nursery, a Titan In a rive 0 thunner an storm, His selfhood wis born. Ilkie knell 0 rebellion, Scrattit her matriarch hairt- Wylin her princelin awa, In that secunt birth, They war finally, Torn apairt. 46.NANCY WHISKY Tears staun thistle-jobby, in his een. Ae dunt wad shak them doon, A mill-lade, brakken; The dam-rush efter the drooth. Dinna deny the chiel his feelins~ They're a hunner per cent proof~ Vauntie's a cockerel's croon, His Nancy's a bitter brew She sits him up, anely tae caa him doon The morn, she'll gar him grue. 47. MA DEARIE Gien her aathin. Best years 0 ma life. Cooker, fridge, TV. Indoor lavvy. Niver bashed her aince, In siller or skint. Fit mair cud a wummin wint? Doon the boozer, Ah'm Action man Wi a ring-pull can. She's at hame Aa her lane Hoose like a midden. Is she affrontit? Deil the grain~ Armageddon~ Doon the boozer, I'm dynamite. Come hame fleein Heich as a kite That cheerie Luiks at me Like a daud 0 shite. Ma dearie. 48. DELINQUENT'S SANG I am 0 Clootie's kin, I am the rib 0 Cain. I gaed tae ma mither fur breid, Fur breid, an she gied me a stane. I am the scud and the skelp, The heid bang, the snot on the face. I am the slash. I'm the whelp, Shunted frae ilkie place. I am the spit on the slab, King 0 the strut. Haud ower~ I gaed tae ma Da fur a kiss, A kiss, an he gied me a cloor. Write me doon on the waa, Doon as a snappin breet, Doon as a hoodie craw, Doon as a mushroom geet. Crucifeed, I will bleed Reid, as the hunger 0 hate. Fa will unlock ma neive? Polis, or shrink, or state? See me, in gutter an gang, Ootlinned in ilkie toon. I am the scapegoat 0 aa, Weirin the thorned croon. I am yer brither. Haud me. Haud me, or cut me doon. 49. BRIDE Seed, brierin, growth. Syne comes the hairst. The corn afore the scythe's a bride, A rowan blossom, in a man's lapel Shakkin the bough, he pu's the flooer itsel. Toasts teemed, an blessins said, Kirk-coupled, spukken fur, an preed, The warm stramash 0 life ripe in her bluid, She lies, a stook fur shearin, In the fite rig 0 the merriege bed. A birlin ring, the sizzens furl aroon, Anither lass pits on the weddin goun Bride's bairn's a wife, Neist wheek,0 the sweengin scythe. 50.CANUTE Auld age an dalliance are ill begun. Nae teuchit I, bit teuchsome coq au vin Gin ye wid grip a tiger bi the tail Mak unca sure it disna ett ye hale. 'Gae back, gae back' quo I, wi thrawness crooned. The tide cam in, of coorse, an I wis drooned. 51.TAK TENT Tak tent~ Houghmagandie's addictive The stoon o a stob, The tidal sook, 0 a Fingal's cave, agog. Lichtnin, forkin a cloud, Horn, beeriet in bog, Pestle, thuddit in mortar, A noose, thrapplin a log, Bee, nuzzlin nectar, An erle, plumpt in a puil. Furlin a roller coaster, Ivy, birlin aroon a tree, A tichtenin spanner, Grapes, i' the press, A slubber 0 crowdie A lowe, birsslin a coal, A yird-howkin mowdie, Fuskey, mellin wi cream. Yon's houghmagandie. A wummlin viper, A pearl doon a well, The sickle meen, A balloon hallooin, A lassoo lowpin, A bell, pealin victory, A nip 0 Napoleon brandy, Yon's houghmagandie. Fyles, it's a Hoolet huntin, A futterat lunterin, A smiddy's haimmer, Icicle, drapped in a Hotterin, spleuterin bree That havvers the knot o senses taut, maist eidently. Frae the warld, and its warsles, Heist-o-the-hurdies free, Yon's houghmagandie~ 52.HAUNS Turn the peat Mask the tea Dicht the greet Frae a bairnie's ee. Kepp the kye Shear the sheep Sell an buy Sow an reap Hack the coal Fae the pitheid waa. Lay the strae In the stirkie's staa Preen an darn Spin an weave Fecht, or pray, Clap, or grieve. Twa guid friens Twa servants, baith Rock the cradle Dig the grave. 53.SIDE-SHOW Shelts pirouette their peintit timmer hooves Like widden-dreams, in weel-accustomed grooves. A circlin dwaum 0 skyrie speed they furl, Wud deevilicks, weird dervishes, they birl, Reid agin derk....the music in the air's A faistenin pulse. Girse, in a kintra fair's, A smushed, crushed, trodden guff, that dicht's The fitsteps green. The roon, hairst, meen, Is harness bricht. The win's a rearin meer, Quine, creepin sleekit frae the nicht's minneer In cotton dress, the willows warn ye back. Yon track ye thochtless tak, is dangerfu. Yer tinker lad's a fiery pimpernel. Cannie~ Le jeu n'en vaut pas la chandelle~ 53.THE SEASONS' SOIREE Spring wis a wallfloor-she sat in a neuk, Ower young fur the ithers tae heed A skin like a peach-wi the antrin plook, A book, naebody winted tae read. Simmer wis plottin, fair pechin wi swat Ower girthy wi growth tae be flirty, It wisna the fashion fur fowk tae be fat She'd the over-abundance 0 thirty. Autumn wis comely-but quanter, an soor As burnished, an brazen as braiss Bit widn't'ye girn, an look crabbit an dour Wi twa thirds 0 yer san' doon the glaiss? Winter pyochered, an hoasted, an rubbit his sairs Mair sense than the rest pit thegither Bit fit wis the guid 0 an erudite heid Amangst weemin that winted tae blether? Thinkin soirees a crime, auld misanthropist time Chappit twalve, wi the heel 0 his staff At the witchery oor, in a fleerich 0 stoor The fower Seasons tuik fleg, an ran aff~ 54. BIRD'S EYE VIEW For the Buchan Heritage Society Gin ye pit knowledge in a tree, Ye'd fairly fire the thicket~ Fit shelter wad a willow gie, Familiarised wi' cricket? Wi' a degree in forestry, The wid wad stump the wicket~ Fit rose wad lift its heid sae wee, forewarned, its neck ye'd thraw? A stirkie wi' a B.Sc. wad up-tail and awa: I wadna be a rose, a tree, A stirkie in a park~ An yet, fyle they are sleepin.. Me? I'm warslin wi' the dark. The spurgle biggs his hoosie Wi' the meenit's threids an thrums I'll pree yon bird's philosophy, 'The morn niver comes'. 55. AS ITHERS SEE US Peat-broon, a wing-beat Drappin alang avenues 0 air Lichtsome as thistle-web A pulse 0 dauchled pouer, The eagle commandeers wir awed attention. (His eyrie, sticks an banes Ower-strewn wi chittered fur, We winna mention.) Gyte boomerang, on lichtly lowpin legs, The hare, wi win-caimbed fur that ripples like the sea, Dowps doon in ony lair A scrapit bowl 0 girse Wi nae pretension. We like tae study ither beasts at play Dae they watch us, wi similar intention? The owl cud he bit spik, fit wid he say Aboot wir customs, habits, an convention? He'd likely note, a heistie up wi men Comes nae bi fit ye dae, bit fa ye ken An foo wi meisure wirth is mair agley It isna fit ye are, it's fit ye hae~ 56. THE CRICKET AN THE ANT for Phyllis Goodall, &the members of the Banffshire Field Club I ken a chiel wha's pleisur's a straucht furrow, A trig byre, a fat beast, A weel-aired semmit on a Setterday nicht, A guid-gyan dram. Gie him a yowe tae clip, a bale tae bigg, He's blythe's a gleg ower sharn. I ken anither fa's pleisur's wirds. A kirn 0 gollachs, wi a sting in ilkie tail. He'll wide ben nettles efter a wee fite rose, Syne press't on a preintit page He'd rather peint a park nur ploo it. He'd playa reel, afore he'd dae rale wirk Sing ye a sang, raither nur tirr his sark. The same auld rant. We need them baith, the cricket an the ant This life, sae hard, wid be byordnar teuch Wioot the cricket, cheepin i' the sheugh. 57.THE UNCA GUID There wis a calvinistic cat Sat snod, in sabbath braws He dainty dined on spurgies Bit coored awa frae craws. A veritable paragon, His clooks wis' lang an sure At powkin fallen carrion, The godless and impure. Noo ither cats may hotch an heeze, Wi' flechs amangst their fur, Bit deil the moch tormentit him It widna even daur. The felines fairly jambooried Fin wird broke oot he'd deid For yon's the price he pyed, ye see For bein unca guid. 58.SIT SICCARS Sit siccars hae a spik-a place fur aathin, aathin in its place. A puir ootluik,0 sma gumption. Nae fur me the tyke that coors frae its ain gurl. Raither, the bikk that tackles the hurly burl o life. Dreids nae dreid. Yowls fur the meen. Winna be bocht b' a clap, or a bare been. It's the challenge 0 the chase Quickens the hound's bluid til a reid race. Fa's niver supped the bitter brew, Fa fears tae grip the blade Is bit a sluggard in the dew, A bonnie tune, unplayed. 59.GUID AN EVIL Fower-feet patterin the futterat rins, Lowpin ark, wi a sickle's sheen Coorse quick killer, ahin the whins Een half-gyte, an a hairt 0 steen. Saft an creashie, the doo wings doon Mild as milk, an as meek's a lamb Quaker wife, in a modest goun Mim's a maid, an as guid's a psalm . A rose grows reid, a cornflower blue, A thrissle heid, by a lily, grew. Guid an Evil's, in man's bluid Fa faddoms the growth 0 Adam's seed? 60.EVE Bird 0 Paradise, Spirk 0 Original sin, An efterthocht. A rib 0 the yird Rowed up in a cutty claith, A wanton, a limmer, The hurly-gush 0 the river's Nae fur ye Strae-dallie, a peach, a leech, Ye're the stank 0 a gairden puil~ Quine, ye're a chaip bawbee A vessel, a vassal haudin the Wine 0 yer Lord's creation. Spunk, that kinnelt temptation Ye war framed fur the fire, Fur the Fa' Frae the verra first. Ye an the serpent¬ Scapegoats. Baith accurst. 61.NICHT VISITOR Weird as a warlock's curse, the nicht Maister, may I gyang hame? Ah, bit the reeds they grip me ticht. Cauld is the watter's wame~ It's I wad keep a lover's tryst Far mist an lochan mell I pledge ye, bi the grace 0 Christ I'll nae tell far we dwell. My een he kissed sae wantonly, Are abrim wi the lochan's glaur. My veins rin wi the puddock bree, Sae bide, I dinna daur. Fur sud he see his ain true love Efter the first cock craw, Oh, bi the Beltane 0 the year His hairt wad brak in twa. An sud he see his ain true love Efter the cock craws neist, T'wid be a dagger in his saul, An aidder, in his breist. An sud he see his ain true love Efter the cock craws thrice, He maun foresweir forivermair The bliss 0 Paradise~ 62. NICHT DRIVIN The hierarchy 0 metal, far newest is best, A grandiose Gran -Prix stooshie o winner-taks-aa, Has ayewis, a deid-en Honda, A black Avenger. A Jaguar purrs at a Lotus Elite Bummin, replete wi the heidy Adrenalin bizz 0 success. A continent-lowpin Sierra (Knight 0 the motor-chess) Proodly declares, 'I traivel' The warld is a birrin causey Aggressively, tyres strikk graivel. At noon, each snod Saloon Is stounin wi pouer. The law 0 the road is a jungle law, Meeve ower, meeve ower. Sae I'd far leifer drive at nicht, Fin fowks' status-symbols 0 cars Are happit an smored bi dark. Are clipt 0 their ego-particular. The hoolet's chime's, Reductive, tae things vehicular~ 63. COAL Fossils 0 muck1e beasts That gart trees styter, That walked the warld In a sypin swee1 0 plyter, Their scrauchin, like their girth, Gargantuan, Lie obsolete, in the ribs o a 1ang-1ummed, yirdy mine. Boxed in by glaur The boddom 0 a pit... I'd nae devau1 doon there Whar dane men pyocher Faither an son wirk-weariet Hyne frae the halesome air, Alive, bit beeriet. Day1icht's a shift awa, A chink in the laft. Doon, in the gunnels 0 the dark's The midnicht foun 0 a shaft. Fa'd sic tae howk In the grave-yaird fug 0 a hole? Nae me, by God, nae me. A coorse thing, coal. 64. LUE THY NEIBOUR (Love Thy Neighbour, to Jean Rousselot, by Max Jacob…here reset in Scots) Hae ye seen the taed, crossin the street? He's a wee mannikie, wee-er nur a dall. He's hunkerin, grovellin. He's shamed, ye say? Na. It's rheumatics. Ae leg's trailin. He rugs it forrit. Far's he gaun like yon? He's cam ooto the drain, puir gowk. Naebody heeded me, in the street. Noo, the bairns nyatter at ma yalla star. Lucky taed~ Ye hinna a yalla star. 65. THE HOAST A kittlie hoast can be a sair dement, As if ye'd chokkit on a kirn 0 thistles. The win gaes rochlin roon aboot yer chest For a the warld like a kist 0 whussles. Ah, this damnt climate can be coorse indeed, Malagaroosin ony ceevil body. Within this girt, grey sklyter 0 a NorIan toun Fowk tak the auld remeid Haud on the toddy. 66. POSTMAN'S KNOCK Here comes Hermes. The rain's stottin aff his hat. His wings are pooched, or happit neth his breeks. A herald wi a hoast. Nae mair gallavantin ben the clouds. The van's the thing fur post. A dog's denner, postie's dowp. Ae gurr'll gar him lowp, Heicher nur ony tree. Is yon the electricity accoont? Tak ae bite oot fur me~ 67.CHRISTMAS BLUES Chap the tatties, bree the neeps, Gie the broth a steer, Dicht the bairnie's faces, Christmas denner's here~ Clootie dumplin in the pan, Hotterin up an doon, Fairy lichts gyang 'Plunk' again~ Haun the tangies roon. Birsled bubbly jock fur wiks Halflins scalin beer Balloons that winna bide up An sotter on the fleer~ Faither squar-eed watchin sport, Littlins wint cartoons. They've riven oot the aerial. Fa inventit loons? Still, it's anely aince a year, Fit's that, I hear ye say? Clear the table 0 mineer Roll on Hogmanay? ? 68.THE HEIRESS A hoose is a byre, gin the mistress be roch Wi mainners an habits tae scunner a tink, Far etiquette's wintin-a table's a troch Bit nae wi Jean Foubister-she wis perjink. She'd the cream 0 fowks' complements-shoddy genteel An invisible darn, wi a thrift in her threid. A sma boddom drawer, bit a wye wi a chiel That gart him think, mebbe she'd butter his breid. She niver wid mairry: Ower mean tae be mated (A wealthy aunt's legacy, sune tae be read) Bit oh the begeck, as in cauld print 'twis stated 'Tae Jeannie, ma favourite, the auld double bed'. Anely Francie left single: 0 suitors, the midden Bit Jean didna dauchle-she wed him wi haste Wist the gift-or the man set her hairt on a weddin? She winna twa face ye...she cudna thole waste. 69. LANG-LEGGED TAM A hudderie~heidit, tattie-bogle tyke Wis lang-legged, whusslin Tam, The bik aye bowfin at his back, Herdin his black-faced yowes An the muckle ram. Drivin his hung-tee tractor (He caa'd it a hotterin hoor) Thirled tae the lan'; His jaicket, wallopin wide, aye knipin on Jug-Iuggit, bool-eed Wi a saft, sappy grin. Through the rigs 0 the dark, ye wad hear it, His whusslin, whusslin Nae thocht in his noddle that didna cry 'baa', His pucklie yowes, an his bik Wis the sum 0 it aa. Coorse grun he fairmed, A byword for skyllich an heather, His ramshackle toon Bore the brunt, an the dunt 0 the weather, Faar only the muir-girse wid thrive, The ploo neither rug nor rive, The rodden mair deid than alive. His steadin half-beeried in breem, Aye ahin wi his work, He wad lowse by the licht 0 the meen. 'Twis the bik that bowfed the news¬ A lang skirl that jeeled i the win Its maister, forsakin his flock, Tied the tow neth his chin, Syne, lang-legged, jug-luggit Tam, Threw ower his staff, and his stock, Wi a whussle, a spit, and a damn, Takkin leave 0 them aa, like a lamb. 70. LAIK-WAIK LAMENT for my father. A worn, ferfochan eagle, Dinged, ooto the lift, His neive, a fierce clook, clawin, Hungersome, fur the derk Moo, steek't, een, snibbit. Cauld's A midnicht tarn, Strang, in contempt fur weakness, Ma faither-fooshunless, an sterk. The dwine,0 smeddum,0 virr, Wis a wird he hated sair. Sae, like an eagle, Sudden, he soared nae mair. His skin is fite's a meen His nails, blaiken in daith. Tae honour the honoured deid Nae rite wull I leave undane~ Mensefu, I drap the yird, On ma faither's heid, ilk divot, a stang 0' skaith~ Nae kinsman daur dae less Sud there be sic an ane May there be nane tae bless His unmurned passin Lang may his banes lie bare In the winter's mawe, In the cauld an the keenin air. Sae, mool, receive thy dust~ Nae needs fur dule, ower a life baith lang, an just. Yet fa can turn frae the grave, wi'oot a scar? The warmth,0 a faither's Love, Lies happ't in glaur. 71. FOR GEORGE BRUCE Gurly the wave, that's gray wi the grue 0 storm, Eastlin the win, frae the mirlygo, blae Nor' Sea, O'erswack the faem, Fauvist in virr, in form Rattlin fou wi the touzlet ocean's bree Gleg is the man, fa's easel is sic an airt. Bruce satts the tail 0 prood fantoosherie~ A wirdy Rembrandt, imagin plooks an aa Upcasts the 'Nicht-Watch’ fowk, yon hale Clamjamphrey, As a Brocher nails a craw Ever the foe,0 feels, an their flim-flammery. 72. JEAN; BUCHAN WARD, CORNHILL A doo, plunked in a dooket, Jean cud be Ony young mither, hashin the bairns tae schule Bletherin on-gauns ower a cup 0 tea Aboot her Joe or Harry, Dauvit, Frank or Sam, Until her bonnie mou (framed perfectly fur spik) Lat oot the rikk 0 Babel, styte 0 Bedlam. I wulled her on a leper colony, Haudit in Hades; hickled aff tae Mars. Takkin the air, wi Bonaparte on Elba. Fear,0 the clean-gyte quine, bred cruelty. The ghaisties 0 her thochts hung on a barren loom Like eildritch tentacles…like tenants dispossessed, Evicted frae a room; naewye fur them tae flit. A guillotine hid drapped inbye her heid Aroon her, dottled deems began tae knit. Her wandrin wirds led tae a mirey bog Far nane daur follow. Nane cud enter it. She gript some sounless dreid agin her breist, A bladdit bairn, it sooklit on her bluid. Her een gaed wide wi grue, Twa moosies, fleggit bi a craw's baloo. Some inner sunlicht shone, Syne Jean grew mirky....glided, like a swan. I cudna haud her glower, Feart, that her widden-dreams, micht skail ootower Micht mount their meers, an leave her castle haa Herry ma ain mind-keep, And gar it faa. 73.NAE BOUNDARIE.... Hinney is hedder, bizz is bee Pollen an bummer mell thegither A reeshlin win's a trimmlin tree Nae boundaries-ane wads wi tither. A burn's a tummlit cloud 0 weet A Ben is bit a heistit drap, A lover's lauch's, a bairn's greet, A haimmered pain, is pleisur's chap. Singer is sang, an dauncer, daunce United, indivisible. The timmer is the lowe's advaunce Abstract becam accessible. Yuletide an simmer, age an youth In daith is birth, in laich is heicht Wing is in win, in lee is truth, Derk's bit the kimmer 0 the licht. Watter is troot, an tiger, yowe Inbye is ootbye, up is doon, Raxxin or dwinin reet is bough As north is sooth, as keckle's froon The muckle ocean feeds the lan Nae void, nae void, a growthy grain Girds yird an lift, a linkit haun Drooth 0' yestreen's, the morn's rain. Far be the boundaries in yon? Naewye, fur Natur hates a waa~ Dyew-daigglit meendraps straik the dawn An buttercups frae starlichts faa. Man biggs a hoose wioot a door, Doom 0 a tomb that wints a key, Howkin the mools, himsel tae smore Maks him a jyle, an caas it 'Me'. Yon puny sel', erects wi care Defensive dykes tae kepp it in Merkin a boundarie,0 air Coorin ahin a shell 0 skin An caas this fortress 'I' an 'mine'. Skulkin aneth a tent 0 dreid, A shady turtle, asinine, Fa winners far the sunlicht gaed~ 74. HAUD GAUN Nae eagle braks a win in cosmic motion, Nae Ben betacks a gangrel toosht 0 strae. Nae fisherlad hauls in the wishless ocean, Nae tod hunts doon the dwinin 0 the day. Nae tinchel ties a sunbeam til a neuk, Nae chappit nail steeks widder til a mast. Progress-the turnin pages 0 a buik Nae haun restrains-the new beeries the past. Snaw haps the lan asleep. Spring yokes tae grow, Syne yestreen's yird is blossom on the bough, The morn's stag is beddit in the fawn A raxxin randy, lowpin intil dawn. Wechty, bune aa, the trauchled traiveller's load Far memory's forgainst the forrit road. An open biggin needna be afeard Far grief's the door-sneck, bitter is the weird~ Be as the showdin snawdrap i the dyew The steers 0 love, stramash 0 dule, sweesh throw Fur stobs that seek tae scart as on the wye Teir sairest, fin ticht-gript. Wir frailty Vrochts us ticht shackles wippit roon the shank An slaws wir steps wi dreich forebodins rank. Live in the Noo, the Present's aybydan. Thrawn, Set yer fit upon the path. Haud gaun~