Gallery Prints (15 Scots Poems)

1.Geordie Jamesone, peinter, Aiberdeen Self-Portrait — George Jamesone Schuled bi Rubens in Antwerp toun (Burnt sienna an emerald green) Peintit fowk fae the monarch doon, Jamesone, artist, Aiberdeen. Fin cannon thunnert an weemin skirled, As Covenanters wi gun an pike Grimly merched wi their flags unfurled, Far wis Geordie, the Scots van Dyke? Bluid wis scaled in the toun's defence Daith bi sword at the Brig o Dee War is dearer nur pounds an pence Geordie Jamesone... Far war ye? Shiprow, Gallowgate, Justice Street, Upperkirkgate an Futty Wynd, Netherkirkgate, the war drums beat, Till deid war delled and the victors dined. Ruff an mowser an forkit beard, Geordie Jamesone wisna blate Tae catch on canvas the heich Montrose Anither notch fae the Heids o State. Geordie Jamesone, foo'd we ken Wioot yer skill or yer peinter's ee Fit mainner or makk o Kings an men Gart cannons thunner an tounsfowk flee? 2.Fusslin Jock An Idyll — Giovanni Segatini Fussle, fussle Jocky, An I'll gie ye a flooer. Fit guid is sic a giftie? Twid wither in an oor! Fussle, fussle Jocky An I'll gie ye ma sheen. Fit guid is sic a giftie? They're bauchled an they're dane. Fussle, fussle Jocky An I'll gie ye a kiss. Cauld kail hett again Fur ye 're a wanton Miss. Fussle, fussle Jocky I'll rowe ye in ma plaid Feech, an that ye winna Fur twinty there ye've laid. 3.The Flood Flood in the Highlands – Sir Edward Landseer The derkenin cloud. The spit o rain. The burnie bigger growes. The lichtenin teirs the lift in twa, the larick boos an soughs. The Heivins teem. The lochans ream. The cooerin yowies bleat A broken gate's a burn in spate, a warlock, wud an weet. The Spring that treetled doon the brae is noo a roarin linn Wi ragin kelpies gaun afore, the horned Deil ahin. Flood in the Heilins! See the craft wi watter at its croon! A Heicher Haun than mortal man dings ae wee faimily doon. An bits o gear that they haud dear, claes, gee-gaws o the best The risin tide casts aa aside like plooshares throwe a nest. The worsit plaid wi'ts tartan braid. The greetin littlin's cradle Are heelstergowdie on the reef wi chitterin tyke, an table. The riven blanket in the win is torn tae threids an thrums Like a bodhran in warrior's haun the thunnerin doonpish drums. Aa draiglit in the dubby glaur, a precious christenin goun A mither's snawy petticoats, bumshayvelt, heid tae foun. Buik, buit an pan, the hale jing bang gyang furlin ben the wave In smithereens fine crystal speens sink tae a stormy grave. The heichest lum, the stoutest waa, rich herds o milkin kye Are bit as nocht, fin as unsocht, Misfortune cries inbye. 4.The Herring Fleet The Herring Fleet Leaving the Dee, Aberdeen — David Farquharson Far are ye gyaun, min? Fishin, fishin. Fit are ye efter? Herrin, herrin. Fit are ye thinkin? Wishin, wishin Oor nets will rise fu Fin they're pu'd fae the ocean 5.Village Our Village – Sir Hubert von Herkomer Oor village has twa wee howfs an a kirk, A burn, a brig an a Heilan stirk, That stauns in its park an nivver says boo... A douce like beast fur a Heilan coo. Oor village has ae sma shop an a skweel, A curlin pond an a paiddlin pull, An naebody here thinks much o the toun Wi its traffic jams that wad weir ye doon. We dinna ging farrer than back an fore, Frae shop, tae kirk, tae oor ain front door, Bit we ken aabody in an oot, Foo they butter their rowie, or guddle a troot. Nae robber wid get verra far wi us, Fur we ken each face that cams affo the bus, An twenty een at the back o yer heid Are watchin ye, lad. Sae ye'd better be gweed. 6.Midsimmer Midsummer, East Fife – James McIntosh Patrick Oh I can see the shaddas shift, An I can smell the hey, Fresh cuttit in the simmer park New-rochled up tae dry. Noo, ilkie leaf on ilkie bough Showds in the simmer win, An I can hear the teuchat's sang Ayont the yalla whin. In yon blue sky abeen the lea Nae pick o cloud nor rain Time hauds its braith, the meadow-puil Is clear's a windae pane. The moosie creeps, the birdie cheeps, An aa the warld is weel, Midsimmer, fan the sizzen's cairt Turns easy on the wheel. 7.Goose Herd To Pastures New – Sir James Guthrie Nippit wing, clippit wing Short's their bit daunder Tethered bi unseen string Goose-herd and gander. Nae soarin lift fur them Skirlin an skreichin She'll be a bide-at-hame Nae furreign traikin. Niver tae feel the cloud On each bird-showder! She'll hae a scrubbit face Bare o fine pooder. Nae sun-blink in their een Anely fairm stoor Wirk like a muckle steen Will keep her soor. Nippit wing, clippit wing Short's their bit daunder Tethered bi unseen string Goose-herd an gander. 8.The Queen o Sheba The Burn, Catterline – Joan Eardley The Queen o Sheba bathed in milk, Yestreen I dooked in flooers. The aipple sprinkled ower ma heid A petal-fa o shooers. An like a sea-horse in the lift Cloud shook its snawy mane, An heistit up a wattergaw Wi pearls on ilkie rein. Forget-me-nots wagged in the wave Wi bandies in each turn The choicest meenits e'er I spent Were by thon Deeside burn! 9.The Lang Road Hame Maternite — George Hitchcock She humphs a muckle wechty pack, A littlin in her airms, Twa dooncast een, Twa trauchelt sheen A pathie teem o cherms. A weariet deem. Afore her een, Her shadda raxxes, black. A wee fitfa, In stirkie's staa The laddie at her back. An neither spikks, fur spikk is by They haik the stoory road That as maun wauk Frae first day-brakk Each, wi his different load. Wi some deep wrang, her thochts are thrang Her bairn wid like tae climm Intae her briest. Anither reists Far aince she bosied him. A mither's as the risin sun She smiles, the bairn rins weel Bit fin she's wae, it soors his day And dowie is his dreel. A meenit's rest wad cheer the bairn, Fa hyters on clean-deen, The mither seeks a langer sleep... The wyvin girss abeen. 10.Eve Reflects at the Fruit Counter Triptych: Cherries, Forbidden Fruit & Pear in Landscape — Alison Watt Geans grow fat in Simmer Raither, their flooers I'd pree Than the stane wi the reid flesh roon it Heich on the wrunkled tree. Pears fur a Spanish lady Wi' hochs like a Rubens' quine Micht suit on a grandee's table They winna dae fur mine. Forbidden fruit tastes sweetest The aipples ahin the waa At the hairt o anither's orchard Ae shog wid gar it faa! 11.Feekie Drinker Gallowgate Lard 1995-6 — Ken Currie Far bairns' buggies shoogle ower the cassies Dirdin aff tae playscheme, granny, creche Far druggies dwaum wi smack deep in their beens Their faces teem tae sunsheen or regret He pykes a zig zag line atween the gravesteens Fleggin the doos that scraun the toun fur meat His chooks are raw's a newly scrubbit doorstep Wee piggies een. Neb, like a grumphie's snoot Thin lips drawn back in slavers at the neuk Like side o beef, bluid dreepin frae the heuk Buck teeth. Yoam mertit unner ivery nail A scabby broo. Hair grizzled like a brock The traffic wardens ken him, medics tee A hameless, drunken, feekie-drinkin vratch Nae family tae ain or claim, or wint him He dosses doon in pee-stained shoppie doors Waukenin, his first thocht's tae slake his drooth Fin every sinew craves reid Middy plonk A human suitcase aabody leaves ahin Wi nae address, belangins, stitchin lowse. 12.Fitsteps Welcome Footsteps(detail) – Marcus Stone The yoam o the evening meal Tatties mashed, mince broon The sklyter o bairns' buits Droonin the TV soun Fitsteps Birr o security bell Lowpin the stairs like a bawd Takkin the steep stairwell Love pits wings on a lad Fitsteps Cream o a clinic waa Reeshle o magazine Lirks on a worriet broo Sooch o a nurses sheen Fitsteps Blin-eed shauchlin gait Bauchlin, trauchlin alang Even the lowe burns quaet Eyne o an auld sang Fitsteps . 13.The Widda Antoinette Antoinette — John Bellany Her heid is hudderie. Nae lipstick ava Her man wis blawn tae smush in the North Sea She bides alane doon far the skurries caa An ilkie nicht in sleep she mynes it aa The TV picturs, burnin ocean bree The skirlin crew wheeched aff in a fireba. She tuik daith in, bit cooerin it wis slaw Bare thirty-three, nae age fur him tae dee Left her a widda wi a littlin, smaa The unnertakker cam, a hoodie craw Reporters heezed... a whiplash media spree The service that the toun gaed, tho, wis braw This warld's fur couples, nae fur hauf a twa Feart that she'd turn an amatory ee On husbands, freens wad hurry past her waa She bides alane doon far the Nor wins blaa The widda Antoinette. Aa she can see Fin nicht brings desolation in its mawe's The Hounds o Hell that stole her love awa. 14.The Typhoid Summer (Tune: The Corncraik) Bonjour Professor Caine – John Bellany Oh Aiberdeen's a bonnie toun aside the grey North Sea It's granite clad fae tap tae foun, the pearl o Don an Dee It is the Dallas o the North, ile herbour bi the tide Bit nae in nineteen saxty fower fm typhoid cam tae bide. Nae since the plague won throwe its yetts did aa its commerce fail; A city unner siege, teem trains stude ghaistly on the rail A stricken toun, its beaches teemed. Sent frae the Argentine, Contamination on a plate... ill fare on which tae dine Ten thoosan fowk a wikk at William Low's wad buy their meat Bit sickness an debility's nae fit ye'd choose tae eat Hale families they war ferried aff an kept in quarantine A present frae across the waves, a blicht in the food chyne. As ilkie school an meetin place telt fowk tae bide awa Hotels an supermairkets baith saw monthly profits faa The sun shone ower the hospitals that fowk wad scarce gae near The Summer that oor bonnie toun becam a place o fear Oh Aiberdeen's a bonnie toun aside the grey North Sea It's granite clad fae tap tae foun, the pearl o Don an Dee It is the Dallas o the North, ile herbour bi the tide Bit nae in nineteen saxty fower fm typhoid cam tae bide. 15.View o Aiberdeen View of Aberdeen – William Mossman Nae multistoreys, traffic jams in sicht! An age o brandy, shelts, sedans an tea Quay – toon, green kintra lappin roon her sides An skies that kent nae ither wings bit birds. A pygmy placie, weety-cauld an stinch Win-cairdit bi the soochin o the sea. Braid brush strokes smeeth the water flat's a bap. Twa Jacobite rebellions didna mar This peinter's idyll, nur the orra trade In human flesh, the slavers' currency Onchancy times – yet aa's as smeeth as glaiss Staun still, breath deep, ye near can smell the girss Cam wachtin fae the pictur in a yoam. Weel-seen the artist learned his darg in Rome. The centuries hae grown... sae has the toon Twa universities noo weir the goun 0 academe. Nae whaling noo, bit ile. Langsyne the Tolbooth nocht anither jyle. In maisonette, bedsit, wee upstairs flat Tenement, hostel, hospital or Hame, In Tilly, Seaton, Cults or Desswid Place The view o this braif toon, is't as the same? A full glaiss, or a teem? Throwe ither's een In mosque, kirk, howf, fit view o Aiberdeen?