Scots Poems From The Unsayable

Wincher's Stance: A Statue by John Clinchin Glasgow Bus Station He'd a broo like Andy Stewart He'd a Rab C. Nesbitt sark Wi his bovver buits an jeans on He wis vrocht fur navvie wark Wi her Tam o Shanter bunnet Wis she jist his Heilan fling? Wi her frock hauf up her bihoochie As he clinched her in a swing She wis aff her feet wi passion Glesga style: The Wincher's stance Close as a mat tae lino Glesga: city o Romance Skinnymalinkie Spider Skinnymalinkie spider tried tae catch a flee Fit a begeck the spider got She'd catched a bumble bee It tore her bonnie webbing It bizzed aroon her heid An skinnymalinkie spider Endit up on bumble breid The Tarland Burn The Tarland Burn frae auncient times Is a tributary o the Dee That rins frae the bonnie hills o Cromar Frae Abyne, tae the cauld north sea It defendit the Castle o Coull langsyne It keepit the parks gey trig On the Tarland Wey ye can cross it twice Heugheid an the Otter Brig Forestry, livestock, hoosin, game Blichtit thon burn wi waste Scientist, fermers wirkit hard Noo the watter rins clear faced In the winter o ‘15 storm Frank Gart the Tarland Burn tae swell An eichty trailer loads o grit It tuik tae the flood dispel In bonnier times, aroon the burn The breem an the bracken growe Morven an Mortlich, Laidlich Look doon on this seelie Howe Puddock an otter, bawd an yowe Aa live bi the Burnie side Nettle an pheasant, rowan reid Chose the burn fur a bield bide. The Tarlan Burn in the simmer months Hauds bandies an swippert troot An ower its heid wud goosers hing Reid rasps, an sweet muirlan fruit Feathers A hotterel o spurgies stoor dookin Feathered baas o broon Wenchin an chirpin, a clanjamfrey o clishmaclavers Like berries on the byle Hotchin fur houghmagandie They hae drapt frae the oxters o clouds Wee flee-ups, pynty nebbit, on birrin wings Newsin, sklaikin, fechtin Argybargyincarnapcious towe-rags Stappin their beaks wi wirms Hornygollachs an flechs An vauntie's ony lass wi a keekin glaiss Common as pee-the-beds, spurgies Bit couthie, couthie an braw The Citadel, Aberdeen The Citadel's fur the saved, the gweed, the godly The merket cross could turn tae a merrimatanzie Far life birls roon, a hotterin broth o sowels The herbour, the coort, the howfs Skail oot their fowk tae jyne the mirled melee Seagulls are reined tae a coach load Aimed at the lift, tae the cloudy mansions o Heiven Ablow, the damned, the tint The chauncers, the orrals, the coorse are birsslin in hell The scunnersome pit o sulphur Kent bi Hieronymous Bosch Hauds Auld Nick's forkie-tailed deevilocks On Setterdays, snod wee quinies Wi ballet buns an tutus Lowp like glegs in the Citadel An volunteers in the café raise siller fur causes The seagulls wyte fur the deid Fa've dane least ill Tae flee in their feathery easy-jet tae Kingdom com Up frae the crackit cassies The stank o sulphur whyles wauchts ben the wynds Lizzie's Dother The howdie hauds a sonsie quine Baloo baloo ma dearie The howdie's braid in airm an girth Oh ilkie new born's bonnie Sae mony bairns she's ruggit oot Baloo baloo ma dearie As tunes upon a piper's flute Oh ilkie new born's bonnie The howdie's humfy-backit kind Baloo baloo ma dearie Nae sensual tae a suitor's mind Oh ilkie new born's bonnie Bit mithers in their agony Baloo baloo ma dearie Are gled the howdie's skill tae pree Oh ilkie new born's bonnie An as she showds the newest quine Baloo baloo ma dearie Betimes her een drap tears o brine Oh ilkie new born's bonnie She's ne'er bin coortit neth the meen Baloo baloo ma dearie Ay suppit frae the spinster's speen Oh ilkie new born's bonnie Tho first tae hear each babby's greet Baloo baloo ma dearie Her briests wi milk wir niver weet Oh ilkie new born's bonnie She ay maun haun the babby back Baloo baloo ma dearie The mither's gains the howdie's lack Oh ilkie new born's bonnie La Rencontre Picturs in the peat rikk Castles in the flame Viaducts an factories A warlock's ghaistie hame Did trowies gaitherin kinnlin Tae pit the magic there? The rikk gaes furlin up the lum Like Rapunzel's hair Granny lat me see them The dauncers bricht an reid Bit the magic left the ingle Fin the auld wife deid Skeleton Faimly Rick-ma-tick clack the skeletons' banes A faimly ye can see throw at a glisk The bairn is wyvin up at the meen A vratch, a nickum, a scaffold o fite Nae intimmers tae wye them doon Nae wyme, nae puddens, nae hairt nae een Nae need tae keech, cowk, pee or pyocher The skeleton faimly's pure as Norseman's runes Makkin their ain percussion They daunce tae their ain tunes The Anachronism The cuddy maun hae lued oor street Auld Farrant, Victorian cassies Gas lichts an railins, a gentler wyes o leevin An anachronism, near the hinmaist o his kind He pued the veggie cart roon ilkie Friday As a littlin I gaed him a heel o breid tae chaw His muckle hairy lips, nichered ower yalla teeth I think he missed the days o equine traffic Tint in the steer o larries, cars an vans Fin he keeched oot baas on the road frae his bihoochie Neebors ran wi pails tae hairst the bounty I sookit in his hameower horsie guff Straikit his flank,keeked inno his midnicht een Sivinty year an risin I'm the anachronism noo Bumbazed in a warld that cheenges ilkie day The Snoot A snoot blew aff a sodjer's face He gaed tae see the doc The diagnosis that he got It wis an unca shock It's plain tae see, the medic said I'm sure we're aa agreed Puir snoot, yer tale's a symptom That ye've gaen aff yer heid Freedom o the Toun In oor toun, yer free tae beg Yer free tae turn yer face awa Yer free tae drink yersel tae daith Yer methadone is free anaa Yer free tae wauk awa frae life There's foodbanks fin yer pooch is teem Yer free tae full oot umpteen forms Tae scrape a livin on a scheme Yer free tae fecht depression's bite Alane up in a flechy flat Yer free tae watch a TV screen Scarce ony furniture bar that Yer free tae windae shop ootside Yer free tae wish, an nae tae get The air ye breathe is free as weel Fit's comin ower ye, pet? The Cheenge Yer ma's comin up tae the cheenge Granminnie telt me I wis echt year auld, dumfounert I luikit at ma fur signs Fin she hung oot the washin Wid her oxters sproot green fungi? Wid she transmogrifee inno a wirm? A taed? A draigon? Wid the skweel get a begeck on parent's nicht Fin a draigon turned up blawin rikk? Mebbe she'd cheenge tae a puddock in the kirk Lowp intae the wee collection pyoke Wid she ett hornygollachs fur brakkfaist Or flee aff intae the lift like a craggy heron? Fin her physog grew reid An swyte brukk oot on her chikks Like watery plooks, wid she melt aathegither An lie on the fleer, a puddle? A mystery aathegither, ayont a bairnie's kennin Impermanence (3) Ma uncle's ferm hoose wis aye weel set up A muckle lowe aye roastin on the hairth The windaes owerluikit kail yaird, flooers an parks Even the family tyke wis braid in girth His mairrage wis as ticht's a wattle fence Twa bodies wuvven close as knittit oo Ben ilkie sizzen, addin tae their nest Twis clean's a preen, nae pikk o dubs or styew The pine doors scrapit back tae nat'ral wid The cairpets saft eneuch tae droon yer feet The kitchie stapped wi plenishin an gear Wi pots an ashets, jams o berries sweet Until the roup, this hame o mony years Wis guttit like a fish, left lanely, teem Lowse sclates lat in the snaa, the frost, the rain An spylin aa the wirk the pair hid daen It bedd a wrack fur 20 years an mair Anither couple tuik the hoose in haun ‘A money pit.' The incomers declared ‘The best o it's the view ootower the lan.' On Yielding Ower auld tae fecht Ower auld tae flee Better tae yield An lat things be The sonsie aik that disnae bend Storm-strukk, is sindered at the end Bit soople birk boos easy ower Survives the coorsest storm's cloor The Rowan Ma forefowk war haley….langsyne, tae humankind I keepit awa the onchauncy, the oorie, the fey I brocht luck tae the new-born's cradle In backyaird, brae or burnside I'm a bield fur spurgies an merles A chaumer fur mavis an yeitie Widlan craiturs coorie intae ma sides Cushle-mushlin saftly thegither The deer, the bawd, the brock Wee bairns sclimm in ma branches I'm their playgrun Their laidder tae the lift In the glamourie ogloaming The humfybackit hurcheon pammers by me Mochs an hornygollachs leave their hidey-holes At daybrakk lippen tae the blethers o birdies The clishmaclavers o cheepers is pleisunt tae me Even the lang langamachie o the whaup Ma kinrikk is wee, bit blink-bonnie In ma bairnhood ma jynts wir soople, swack an lythe As I growe, I raxx ma airms tae the lift Tae touch the meen, the starnies an the mirk In spring I brier wi blossom, bridal fite Late simmer, ma crammosie berries are bricht rubies By autumn ane bi ane ma leaves doondrap Ma weird is a birlin wheel o birth an daith See me throw the haar: Am I nae oorie? I am the speerit tree o the Celts LangSyne speerit The Horseman's Wird Ma gransire ained a ferm, a byre, a stable He lued his Shires, his secunt faimily Saxteen hauns heich they stude, his equine bairns A shelt is guidit bi its sense o smell It kens its maister bi his human guff Ma gransire wi ae wird could gar them reist Could quaeten flichty breets, an kent their wyes Fin foalin, he lay doon aa nicht aside them Whyles, a foalin happened ooto sizzen Blin drift dingin doon, last snap o winter There in the derk, the grun skyty wi bluid He forkit strae tae bedd the newborn doon Helpit it sook colostrum frae the mither's pap, Wyted fur oors in the cauldrife back o midnicht Cauld chawed his banes, the jeeled win claucht his briest It wis the kistin o him, thon last foalin His secunt faimily brocht wae tae his first Young widdae murnin, three bairns left forehooied.