Queerieorrals (8 Scots Poems)

1.Scotch an Wry Scotch corpse: a cairryoot Scotch thrift: darn it Scotch summer: ower in a wunner Scotch caber: Heilan fling Scotch tenor: giein't laldy, tartan baldy 2.Oo Rev. Ian MacPhail's plus fours Cam fae a noble pedigree. Their mither, Grizzel the yowe, Wis kent ower ten green braes As a swack an douce-like quine. The discipline o the spinnin wheel an loom They hae tholed... these scrapins o their mither. The future o her oo has noo bin shaped Shank-warmers Dowp-hauders Coddlers o haly baas. 3. Montrose Song Tune: Will ye Go tae Sheriffmuir Hae ye seen the great Montrose, wi a rooser fur a nose Iron teeth tae chaw his foes, steppin up sae vauntie? Fin they fulled his christenin mug, a coo wis bairned bi a dug A wummin tried tae kiss a slug, an ither things sae clarty. Fin he crossed the Brig o Dee, sign the Covenant said he Or I'll set the musketry tae drub yer burgh sairly Black the day Montrose cam back, Irish bloodhounds at his back Fur oor bonnie toun tae sack, in the name o glory. This is foo an army thrives, makkin widdas ooto wives Loadin cannon, grindin knives, ready fur the stooshie Wad ye like a cure fur ague? Leprosy the pox or plague? Tie a ribbon roon yer craig. Jyne Montrose's pairty. Bold dragoons war firin shots, made frae Fyvie's chunty pots Trampin roses an shallots roon the Howes o Fyvie Syllabub an buttered wine, there's a sodjer o the line Won the fecht bit nae the quine, the bonnie lass o Fyvie. Covenanter, Cavalier, soun the drum an they'll appear Sell yer coo, lock up yer meer, for aathin they will spulzie Catched an caged, wi feint a care, he wrote poem an caimbed his hair He steppit up the gibbet stair, intae the page o history. Hung an drawn, the butcher's cairt, rowed him roon tae ilkie airt Fur playin o the lion's pairt, roon oor noble country Efter he'd been hoodie bait, Gweed King Charles, oor potentate Gaithered him tae lie in state an kistit him wi glory. 4.King Charles I 19/11/1600, Dunfermline Castle - 30/1/1649, Whitehall scaffold Tune: Barbara Allan. Written during a visit to Fyvie Castle, organised by the NTS King Charles rose up thon hinmaist morn, twa sarks he chose tae weir, Lest he should shakk, an fowk mistakk pure cauld, fur signs o fear. They brocht his littlins tae his room, sae they micht takk their leave, An he has pressed them tae his breist, an telt them nae tae grieve. The anely soun, the beatin drum, the craikin o a craa, As past the silent crowds they lead their monarch tae his faa. Afore the scaffold happt in black, (the hooded heidsman's airt) The boughs war bauld, the Thames rowed cauld, t hrough Lunnon's frozen hairt. The first step tae the scaffold bare, he stamped his fit wi rage, For aa unfair, he saw aince mair, the mock trial o the age. The second step King Charles took, he faltered wi his fit, He felt the stangs o Civil War, an kent the waste o it. The third step forrit that he gaed, his brither Scots sae quick, Tae save their kirk, drew sword an dirk, afore his prayers they'd spikk. The fourth step that the Monarch tuik, his een luiked hyne awa, On war wi France, on war wi Spain, that brocht nae gain ava. The fifth step syne, he brocht tae min', wi ile they did anoint him, In costly goun, he wore the croon, as king they did appoint him. The saxth step ben the scaffold stair, he welcomed hame his queen, A fleur-de-lis brocht ower frae France, sweet maid o new saxteen. The seventh step, nearhaun Daith's yett, his hairt wis like tae brakk, He stude at Fyvie's castle waa, the Ythan at its back. In Fyvie's green an pleisunt lan, the infant king wis free, Tae rin its braw, blink-bonnie braes wi Seton's faimily. The hinmaist step! He faced his foes, an spakk oot lood an clear. The sodjers drave the crowds awa, for fear o fit they'd hear. An syne, thon slicht an cultured man, luiked Terror in the ee, Tae show the leal, fu brave an weel a Stewart King could dee. He's laid him doon, raxxed oot his airms, like Christ on Calvary, The swingin blade a martyr made tae greet Eternity. 5. Deevilick, Deevilick Deevilick, deevilick far hae ye been? Fae the birssle o Hades tae cauld Aiberdeen. Did ye lowp in the Denburn tae frichten the fowk? Na, tae cweel doon ma hornies, ma hochs an ma dowp. 6.Druid Wirds war framed tae strikk a spark, Tae licht man's thochts alang the dark, Gods war ferlies fowk cud see: Sun, and meen and fish and tree. Roon the circle o a flame Early hunters tied a name Tae the speerits steerin by Wid an watter, stane an sky. In the dyew the ocean saw Heiven in a wattergaw. Shaddas raxx frae evil deen, Like the drappin o a steen, Deep inbye a lochan's pot Ooto sicht, bit nae forgot. In the mantra o the hairt, Dreams an desolations stert, Een an tongue an lug are gates, Here pass mervels, myths an hates, Ken them fur the stuff o play, Masks an mummers fur a day. Spittin wild cat, douce blue-bell Fellow-traivellers like yersel. 7. The Dream A dream cam teetin roon ma door, 'Can I come? ' said he, I fixed him wi a glaissy ee, An speired him questions three. 'Oh dae ye bring a happy dream O bonnie simmer days? Or dae ye bring a widden-dream O bogies, ghaists, an waes? Or dae ye bring a prophecy Tae tell o roads I'll rin? Oh tell me truly, chappin dream Afore I let ye in! ' 8. The Worry A Worry the size of a midgie or flee, . Creepit inno the bosie: o, Teenie McGee. It grew through the nicht big 's a were-wolf sae furry, Nae twa winks o sleep could she get for the Worry. Next mornin, at brakkfaist, she drew up a cheer, An saw, tae her horror, the Worry; sat there. It treetled ahin her fin she wauked, tae class, Sae big noo, the teacher could hardly win past. Fariver she gaed it wid lowp like a troot, Frae bus stop tae hame blottin as the warld oot! She'd staun in the street 'I've a Worry! ' she'd yell. Be quate' fowk roared back 'We've got Worries wirsel! ' Sae she gaed tae her granny, an grat on her lap. (The Worry cam tae, big 's an elephant's bap) . Granny tuik oot her glaisses, the Worry tae see, Bit noo Teenie'd shared it, the Worry grew wee. It shrank an it shrank till it dwinnlit awa A Worry, eence shared's nae a Worry ava!