Scots Poems From Meenstrukk

Meenstrukk: Pamphlet 173 Hosie's Tears Twa luvers trysted on the brae, lang years ago on Bennachie An swore they'd be forever true until the sea turned crammosie A warrin Heilan army cam tae kill an spuilzie aa aroon Hosie pit on a sodjer's claes, set aff tae fecht an ding them doon Bit on the sair field o Harlaw he yielded tae anither's dirk A prisoner, he wis merched awa tae Heilan lans o bog an mirk His lassie murned fur sivven years until anither dried her een An on their verra waddin day young Hosie he lowped in atween Ower late, she wis a wadded wife, bit at the sicht o ane thocht deed She turned her roon an gaed a sigh an as a corp laid doon her heid Young Hosie didnae wyte ower lang, his noble hairt it brakk in twa His tears still rummle throwe the girse tho in the mools he's lang awa Sae aa true luvers mind yer vows haud true tae them throw aa the years Takk tent o thon young lassie's wae, mind on the cause o Hosie's tears Meenstrukk The hill o Morven in Cromar is biggt o rock that's aa its lane Fremmit as ony far flung star an auncient mystery-shroudit stane Sib tae the rocks fand on the meen that owerluiks thon seely howe Like distant cousins hynie back born in the Eirde's birth cradle lowe Sae fin ye staun upon the tap o Morven cast yer een up heich An watch fur merks o glamourie shared bi thon Ben an the meenlicht I think the meen luiks kindly doon upon the lans aroon Cromar At nicht the corn glents an sheens like spirkies frae a drappit star Ett yer denner Ett yer denner Think o the warld's stervin Think o the waste gin ye dinna Think o the time spent makkin ye thon brae denner Yer nae leavin the table till it's etten Mither, dottled or nae dottled. Lowes Flames lowp heicher in trees and In the USA and Australia Hale wids gae wheech in a glisk Flames lick the shanks o witches Birssle their hurdies The doucest lowe is a caunle Wee, pouerfu, an kind. Hameless, Asleep As a bairn I paiddlit in the Dee Ae Simmer's day in Ballater's Wee Dooker, Teenage campers there, hid smashed a glaiss I stude on shards, ran skirlin frae river A gowfer flang his clubs, throwe buttercup An girse, he ran an gently scooped me up I wadnae lat the doctor near the cuts Time healed bit left the scaurs, like fleshy ruts Whyles, phantom stobs o pain stoun ben ma fit Tho surely nae shards bide embedded yet Somelike the veesion o a chiel I saw Frae a bus windae pane, his orra den O rubbish, cardboord sleepin aa his lane Aneth a stoory unnerpass. A scene frae Hell That like the ghaistly stob aneth the skin Whyles gars me grue, his rank hame infernal Neebors Nigeria, Poland, China, Syria Oor neebourhood's a cosmopolitan mell Wi multi-residencies stapped wi students An twa three Scots. Each hoose keeps tae itsel Auld faschence is the towe that ties us aa Fa's peintit, insulatit, harled their waa Fa's lichts flash on at passerbye bi night Tae gie the wid -be thief a nesty fricht Fa's CCTV wi its watchful ee Spies oot fa vandalises, far dugs pee I envy gairdens far hydrangeas brier An rhododendrons, aa I growe turns sere An aabody hates the chiel fa hogs the street Wi twa cars, vans an bikes, a motor freak Neist door, a wee tyke barks an cocks a lug Its pelt the texture o a yirdit rug An like deid teeth, jist wytin tae be pued The vacant hames o newly deid ance lued As wikk bi wikk their lawns growe rank an strang Intae a wilderness far weeds are thrang An their wee gairdens, aince sae prood wi flooers Sport pee the beds, an nettles, rubbish bouers Aa's unca dowie, gairden yett skweejee For Sale signs hing abune thir property An we fa kent them, noo retired as weel Fan will we tae, be vacancies tae fill? The Spikkin Glen I am the gean that briers abune the burn I'm five years auld, the burn's been aeons rinnin I am the glen that waukers, luvers sikk Far stalkers cull the stags, the deer herd thinnin I am the michty erne, the king of birds Ma cleuks an beak are aa I need fur wirds I am the linn that tummles tae the puil Far angler's line gaes ower the watter spinnin I am the win that gars the laricks showd The wattergaw that hides ahin the cloud I am the stanes that staun abune the heath The ferns that wyve on ilkie brae aneth I am the sun that faas on traivellers' heids The hole inbye the dyke far futterats breed I am the blueberries swete tae taste I am the mist that furls like a ghaist I am the caller air that cweels the peat I am the tod's derk den, the whaup's wing beat I am the ling, the rose, the slicht harebell I am the kernel o yer inner sel Tae those fa ken me, takk me tae their hairt I haud them closely, even fin apairt Deeside Hae ye seen the kelpie's needle far the waters o the Dee Splyter skinklin bi Inchmarnach far the waves are lowping free? Hae ye wauked the nemmeless corrie in the lea o Lochnagar? Nearhaun Crathie fur a wolf aince terrifeed the lans o Mar Hae ye stude in cauld Glen Girnock, wi its bagpipe chanter stanes Far the win gaes soughin eerie, throw the derk glen's singin banes Hae ye wannert alang Greystane, bi the Twa Boar Holes o Crathie? Or heard the laricks soughin ower the Burnie siller stappie By Craig Nordie, Cairn-na-Cuimhne, ilkie drappit warrior's stane Tells o chiels fa deid in battle, leavin waves tae murn alane An at Deirdre's puil they tell, tales o Fingal's deeds himself Far the braes rise braw an bonnie wi the purple heatherbell Aa alang the glens o Dee there are airts o glamourie Stag an adder, crag an scree, in its Celtic treasurie Tod in the Toun Fit are ye daein in a schule playgrun? Staunin there, luikin me squar on Cockin yer lugs fur souns o tyke or gun The playgrun's teem, ower early fur the bairns It's 7am, anely a fish hoose wirker steers Ahin hoose waas, some birze an ithers rug on claes The toun like a birrin bus, steps up its gears Yer weirin the colours o Autumn A livery o russet broons an creams Blaik tooshts on the tips o yer lugs Yer a breet o magic an dreams Ma presence skytes aff ye Like rain aff a holly Yer paws grip the grun Like a warrior, merkin his territory Yer braw tail sweeshes ahin ye There's nae a car tae be heard Anely the doon flichter o a leaf An in the teemness, nae ae human wird An here ye are, nae huntin bit reivin Thievin frae backies and bins Tasties left ower frae last nicht's chippie suppers Haddies, haggis, scampie an sausage skins Ye leave the calligraphy o yer paws Ower urban gairdens, like a signature Mair sleekit, an far bonnier, than a scurrie Eenoo, in this cauld mornin daybrakk oor I wid hae liked tae pett, tae straik ye Bit feared yer teeth, the bite that ye could gie Ye turn an treetle aff upon yer traivels Secret an winnerfu, scavengin an slee Bairn Rhymes Jack the Capercailzie Jack was a capercailzie. He bedd at the Burn o Vat He niver smiled fur he had nae friens, noo fit dae ye think o that? He wis terrible ill natured, he snapped wioot a rizzon All year roon he grumphed an gurred like a bear in the angry sizzon Ae day a stag gaed waukin intae the Burn o Vat An afore that Jack could open his beak, he tossed him up like a rat An fin Jack cam doon he kicked him, bye far the meen gaes furlin And noo he orbits Saturn, as a satellite aywis girnin Yaavins Yaavins, yaavins kittle ma skin doon ma sark far the win blaas in Better than nettles stingin yer cuits. Gin ye wauk ben nettles weir lang buits The Teenie Crocodile I had a tiny crocodile that cam frae Foggyloan It widnae share TV remotes. It always hogged the phone I selt it tae a pop star tae plunk intae his bath Tae fleg the paparazzi, an bite them fur a lauch Victor Vratch Victor Vratch is ma favourite craa, He keeps his beak trig an his feathers are bra I feed him on pizza, spaghetti, mince pies He sits in the kirk in the verra front staa He craas fin the meenister threeps oot Amen He coonts tae a hunner, he kens aboot Zen He gaes tae the loo fin he's wintin a jobby An pykin oot een is his favourite hobby The Hen frae Ecclefechan I met a hen frae Ecclefechan, awfu gutsy, aywis peckin As roon as a balloon she grew. Syne burst, we turned her intae stew Granny's Tablet Ma granny thinks tablet is toffee, I'm ettlin tae get her tae use Her iPod… she says that technology has eyndit in blawin a fuse She doesnae like spikkin on FaceTime. She doesnae like spikkin on Zoom The last time she skyped, in a snorrel, she crashed the Wi-Fi in the toon. Food Fin I wis wee ma mither said I hid tae clear ma plate Bit soup that hid spaghetti in't I cudnae help bit hate Fit food dae ye like? Is't ice cream? Or chocolate, chips or cheese? Bit ettin foods that taste sae fine we're telt gies us disease A teenie suppie here an there is aa we get tae takk There's even veggie muffins nooI canna stammache that They say that we are fit we ett I like a jaiket tattie An thon is foo, ahin ma back I hear fowk caa me fattie Pets Jimmy his a pet bull dug it wauks wi bandy legs Its braith stinks like a midden an fur teeth it his twa pegs Sophie his a cattie, a pet far beasties heeze She skooshes it wi potions tae clear its fur o flees Willie his a gowdfish ane o thon tropic breeds It piddles in its tank an rises up tae ett its seeds Mary hid a parrot. It liked tae clean its cleuks Bit Mary hid tae gie it back.It brocht her oot in plooks Transport I like tae flee up in a plane an watch the clouds sail by I look oot on a wattergaw an hear the scurries cry I like tae traivel in a train gaun wheechin doon the line I like the Harry Potter train I wish that it wis mine I'd shovel coal richt doon its throat an makk its furnace bleeze An gar the engine chooch an wheech an blaw rikk ben the trees I like tae hurl in a car tae wids, wi picnic hampers Tae places I could niver reach fin waukin on ma tramplers I like tae cycle doon the braes, an see the warld flee past An aa the rubbits rin awa. A bicycle's a blast! I like tae drive a tractor, across the dubby grun Aa sheeny reid an hotterin, a tractor's biggt fur fun Hey Jock's ma cuddy, Ma cuddy lives o'er the dyke, An' if ye kick ma cuddy, ma cuddy'll gie ye a bite. Bodies Ma sister Jeannie sweems like troot She should hae bin born wi scales I'm certain she's sib tae a kelpie She's a fish frae her lugs tae her nails Ma brither Tammy plays tennis He skelps the baa ower the net He could crack a nut unner his oxters He'll be a warld champion yet Ma granny Teenie dis naethin Bit read as she sits on her dock Fin she's beeriet her snoot in a story She losses the time on the clock The Tattie Bogle I am a tattie bogle I staun oot in the park Tae flegg the hoodie craas awa an stop their chorin wark I am a tattie bogle wi claes aa tashed an torn I flap ma tatterwallops tae guaird the fermer's corn I am a tattie bogle wi a neepie fur a heid I thole the win, the rain, the snaa, a hardy chiel indeed Doon in the Ocean Doon in the ocean far shark's teeth flash The parten's nippers gae snash snash snash The octopus wummles an the jeelyfish shakk An watter skails aff the great whale's back Up on the waves there are pirate ships Toorists paiddle far the dolphin dips Surfers skyte ben the tummlin tide Far the buckies an the barnacles an wee boats bide Doon by the ocean there are sanny puils Wi mermaid's purses far the green dulse sweels The tide gaes oot an the tide cams in An ice cream slidders aff a wee bairn's chin