Impossible Gifties (3 Scots Poems)

1. The Dragon In a dark neuk o Embro toun A thochtie aff the Canongate A dragon’s egg, jade green an roon Hatched oot a thoosan years ower late The craitur hodged an raxxed its wings Syne kittled up an set its mind Tae scoor the cassies, wynds an stairs In search o ithers o its kind Tae Embro castle first it flew Inbye St Margaret’s chapel bouer Caunles an sancts in peintit glaiss War aa that held the dragon’s glower It hirplit ower the castle hill An dowpit bi the witches’ well The warlocks, knichts an ghaists war gaen Nae hint o cantrip, imp nor spell Bi Brodie’s Close, St Giles’ kirk Traffic an towrist hashed on by The Street o Sorras, tae, wis teem O aa bit History’s daith-cry It lowped tae Mary’s palace syne Thinkin it auld eneuch tae be A bield for fabled, mythic breets Bit nocht wis there bit statuatory The Warld’s Eyn. The dragon stopped Deid in its tracks an drappit doon It wis inveesible tae aa The waukers in the modern toun A steer ower at the Netherbow Gart the young dragon lift its een It pressed its snoot agin the peens An catched the glamo’rie o yestreen Intae a thoosan sangs an tales It stepped. They bad the dragon bide For fit’s a warld withoot the fey? As wae’s a groom wioot his bride! 2. In ma Uncle’s Cornpark In ma uncle’s cornpark fin the hairst wis stooked I hid in a shaif, a shaif fu o fuspers an mysteries Wi a craa as ma ain familiar The sun daunced ben the cornflooers As I cocked in my stibble throne Whyles, a moosie squeaked, kennin me A princess in borraed claes Wyvers spun tales o knichts an hidden treisur An auld tattie bogle, leanin ower the dyke Keckled deep in its thapple like a warlock 3.Gifties I wad gie a cloak o the wud bee’s fur The wings frae a jenny wren Tae shakk the mools frae the yirdy kist That’s happen the neist step ben I wad sow the grun wi the norlan stars Reap waves far the burnies shift Gin I cud boo at the moo o daith Thon dark kist lid tae lift For jist ae teet at fit’s lyin there Ayont the warld’s sairs I’d rype the reid frae the robin’s breist Beard cats in their Heilan lairs Thon kist..is’t stappit wi kith an kin An the joy at the eyn o wytin? Or is it teem..an the mools a swick An daith bit a new braith kythin?