Scots Poems: The Gas Mask

Flimflammery 'Twis fooshty, an the emmerteens Kerfuffled ben the byre: Aa fearie wir the mowdiewarps, The mochs did flee like fire. The hornygollachs pyked their taes The forkie snipped her dowp A muckle bull gaed roarin roon A Buchan fermer's rowp An twa, three fower, an heelstergowdie Snailies aa gaed rummlin A peesieweep turned ootside in Her belly it wis rummlin A rowie skytit doon the street Ten scaffies ran ahin her A muckle skurry snappt her up An cried ‘Thanks fur ma denner! ' A Wheen Scots Wirdies Stottin is bouncing And stappit is full Shooglin is shaking Scots words are so cool! Yellae is yellow And wersh stands for bitter A cuddy's a horse He's a mettlesomecritter Emmocks are ants, Heelstergowdie's tipped over Drouthy is thirsty A reiver's a robber Sleekit is cunning A dyeuk is a duck If yer pookit and puir You are down on your luck A poke is a bag Haud yer wheesht is shut up Sapsy is something That's juicy to sup Gallus is cheeky A crack is a chat Cowrin is huddling Like moose from a cat Ettercap's spider And pudden's dessert Loofs are your paws Bairns please stay alert Raucle is bold And fozie is rotten Canty is kindly What others are written? Shilpit is puny A bridie's a pasty A bannock's a pancake So warm and so tasty! Skraik is to screech Sneyster's roast meat Traik is to bargain Scran's what you eat Pauchlin is shuffling Teuch's something tough Haufers are halves, bairnies Scots is good stuff! The Wallagoo Ma faither-in law wis the anely ane Tae spikk this unca wird He caad a gype a wallagoo A fey soun tae be heard O did it cam frae Ozzy lan Like a lowpin kangaroo? Tae my begeck the wird is Scots As Scots as Irn Bru The Reiver Rattie The Reiver Rattie wis nesty. The Reiver Rat wis a deil. He took fit he wintit an ett fit he'd taen. His life wis ae muckle meal. His teeth wir sherp an yalla His mainners wir coorse an crude An the Reiver Rattie gaed ridin -ridin - ridin - Ridin alang the highwey An pauchlin the traivellers' food. A mappie cam stottin alang the road, Syne devauled wi her loofs ower her heid, For blockin her wey wis the Rattie, "Haud still, " he skreiched oot, "or yer're deid! "Gie's yer bridies and bannocks, Yer puddens an teacakes tae! Fur I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie, The reivin Rattie - the thievin Rattie - Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie An fitiver I wint I'll hae." "I hae nae cakes, " the mappie reponed. "This clover is aa I can gie." The Reiver gied her a scunnered luik. "Haun it ower, "quo he. "Lat me see. "This clover is shair tae be sapsy, This clover's as wersh as can be, But I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie, This clover belangs tae me! " A squirrel cam lowpin alang the road, Syne devauled wi a shooglin chitter, Fur there on his cuddy the Reiver Rattie Wis thunnerin, "Staun and deliver! "Gie's yer black bun an shortbreid! Teem yer caramel coffers! Fur I'm the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie, The reivin Rat - the thievin Rattie - Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie, An this Rattie disnae gae haufers." "I hae nae shortbreid, " the squirrel reponed. "Jist a pucklie nuts in this sack." The Reiver wheeched it awa an gurred, "Yer sack fu o nuts I will takk! Thon nuts, I doot, are weel past it, Thon nuts are as hard as can be, But I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie An noo they belang tae me! " Some eemocks cam creepin alang the road, Syne devauled an cowped heelstergowdie, Fur yellin oot, "Halt! " wis the Rattie, Anhis mainners were raucle an rowdy. "Gie's yer toffee an tablet, Yer sookers, choaclits tae chaa! Fur I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie, The reivin Rattie - the thievin Rattie - Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie, An I'll nae tak a tellin at aa." "We hae nae sweeties, " the eemocks reponed. "We jist hae this braw green leaf." "Nae ony mair - it's mine, " quo Rattie. "An tae ony priggin I'm deef! "This leaf is aa shilpit and soor. It's as pookit an puir as can be. Bit I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie, An this leaf belangs tae me! " Wi niver a please or a thank ye, The Rattie gaed on ilkie day. Flees fae an ettercap! Milk fae a cat! He aince chored his ain cuddy's hey! The craiturs that traivelled the highwey Grew thinner an thinner an thinner, Whyle the Reiver Rattie turned creashie an fat Fae ettin up aabody's denner. A dyeuk cam plappin alang the road, Then devalued wi a "Foo's yer doos? " I see ye hae naethin tae eat, " Rattie girned. "Sae insteid I will hae tae ett you! I doot ye'll be dried oot an drouthy. I doot ye'll be teuch as a tree, "Bit I am the Rattie, the Reiver Rattie, The reivin Rattie - the thievin Rattie - Aye, I am the Reiver Rattie, An I fancy a dyeuk for ma tea! " "Haud yer wheesht, "dyeukie quackit, "for ma sister has sneysters ye'd savour. I ken that she's keen fur a crack wi yersel, An I'm shair that ye'd like tae meet her. Awa in her cave, her deep derk cave, At the tap o the knowe, richt noo, Are puddens an pieces a-plenty, And there ye can ett till ye're fu." "Lead on! " skirled the Rattie, they took tae the road, On the back o the cuddy thegither. Up gaed the road wi nae eyn in sicht - Jist ae neuk efter anither. At last they cam tae a lanely cave, An the dyeukie began tae quack. She quackit, "Guid day tae ye, sister - sister - sister - " An... "Sister, sister, sister..." A voyce fae the cave cam back. "D'ye hae ony cakes an choaclits? " The thievin Reiver cried. An, "Choaclits! Choaclits, choaclits..." The voyce fae the cave reponed. "I'm comin tae tak them! " the Reiver skraiked. His gutsy een grew roon. An "Tak them! Tak them, tak them..." Returned the walcam soon. The Rattie lowped aff his cuddy. Intae the cave he strode. The dyeuk took a haud o the cuddy's reins An galloped alang the road. Roon the neuks an doon the brae Past bonnie mountain scenes, The gallus wee dyeuk gaed ridin -ridin - ridin - Gallopin doon the highwey, Back tae her stervin freens. Syne they shared oot the scran fae the saddle pyokes An dined the lee-lang nicht. Lood wis the music an lood the sangs, An the bonfire's lowe bleezed bricht. Wud wis the meenlicht dauncin, Canty the crack and cheer, For noo that the Reiver Rattie wis gane They were free fae herm an fear. An as fur the Rattie in the cave, He skraiked an traiked until... He fand his wey ooto the derkness, On the tither side o the hill. A sleekit, coorin, Rattie, He reives on the road nae mair, Fur he's taen a job in a cake shop - A cake shop - a cake shop - An they say he aye wirks in the cake shop, Swypin the cake shop flair. The Hoast Snocherin, pyocherin hocher an hoast A bibbly snoot as weel A thrapple like sandpaper scrapit wi grit At night, ye squirn like an eel Ye cann a breathe an yer breast is sair Yer een are watterin tae Ochone fur an eyn tae Januar's blast An a gweed gaun Springtime day Ne'er cast a cloot till Mey be oot It's the sizzen o caulds an gobs Fur a winter hoast gaes on an on In slivvers, bibbles an blobs Scots Owersett o a Shipment tae Maidanek, by Ephim Fogel Cam frae hyne aff touns, a rowth o lans Intact frae sea lan, Ben lan, an leys Item: sax saw-banes, slichtly hurtit hauns Item: three bards, eeselessly wud Item: a Russian mither an her bairn The former wi five gowd teeth an eeseless sheen The latter wi sivven dresses, fermin styled Item: anither hunner thoosan Jews Item: a cripplit Czech wi a haun vrocht crutch Item: a Spaniard wi a subversive lauch Siventeen dizzen Danes, nine gross o Dutch Total: exack a million an a hauf They are redd up an merked- the wey is up tae yersel The buiks maun be balanced, the disposition statit Takk tent that aa accoonts are snod an true Makk siccar they are aathegither brunt Scots Owersett o Wee Sang o the Skaithed bi Benjamin Péret Len me yer airm Tae replace ma shank The rattens ett it fur me At Verdun At Verdun I ett a heeze o rattens Bit they didnae gie me back ma shank An thon's fu I wis gien the Croix de Guerre An a widden shank A widden shank Scots Owersett o Fit Wir they Like? Bi Denise Leverton Did the fowk o Vietnam Use lanterns o stane? Did they haud ceremonies Tae revere the brierin o buds? Did they lauch, quaet like? Did they makk eese o bane, ivory Jade an siller fur ornament? Hid they an epic poem? Did they differ atween spikk an sang? Maister, their licht hairts turned tae stane It's nae myndit gin in gairdens Stane lanterns lichtit their pleisunt weys Mebbe they gaithered aince tae delicht in blossom Bit eftir the bairns wir killt There wir nae mair buds Maister, lauchter is wersh tae a brunt mou A dream, syne, mebbe. Ornament is fur blitheness Aa the bairns wir birssled It isnae myndit. Forbye Maist wir fermers, their life Wis in rice an bamboo Fin peaceful clouds wir refleckit in the paddies An the watter buffalo steppit siccar alang terraces Mebbe faithers telt their loons auld tales Fin bombs brukk thin keekin glaisses There wis anely time tae skirl There's an echo yet O their spikk that wis like a sang It wis reportit their singin wis like The flicht o mochs in meenlicht Fa can say? It's seelent noo A Scots Owersett o At Vshchizh by Fyodor Tyutchev (1803-1873) Eftir the stooshie an the bluid Hid deed, hid dried Seelence unpickit its history A heeze o howpies, on them A boorich o aiks. They spreid Their braid, unmindfu glamourize Ower the unheard rumour o thon deid An reeshle thonner, reetit on wrack Aa natur's kennin Is tae bide unkennin- Oors tae confess bumbazement Dreamt-oot bi her Oor years are ghaists in their camin- gaen Her random seed Spreid tae their fruitless weird, she syne Regaithers them Intae thon peace aa history maun feed A Scots Owersett o The Sleeper in the Glen VII, by Arthur Rimbaud The swallt glen sang ben the green hole An wudly hyeuked tae tatterwallops on the girse Licht fulled the hett howes. The hale Glen bubbled wi sunbeams like a beer-glaiss The conscript wis gap-moued; his bare heid An thrapple swam in the blae watter cress He sleepit. The noon soothed his wechtiness Sunlicht wis rainin inno his green bed An bakit the hurts frae his corp, rowed As a skaithed bairrn micht bosie itsel asleep Och natur, rock him warm, he is cauld The flooers nae langer makk his het teen greet The river sooks his hair. His blae een rowes He slepps. In his richt side are twa reid holes Drumneachie Ferm (One of the Best Scottish Poems2019) The ferm wis a peat shed, a stack o hackit kinnlin The ferm wis reeshlin corn and a tattiebogle The ferm wis buits lined up bi the lowe fur blaikin The ferm wis washin skelpin in the win The ferm wis a bee skepp bizzin in the gairden The ferm wis twa reid kye, their udders stappt wi milk The ferm wis swippert collies, hair as sheeny as glaiss The ferm wis parritch bowls, an cream tae poor frae the joog The ferm wis simmer days an cousins lauchin The ferm wis dookin doon in the burn bi the dyke The ferm wis the stank o girse, o sharn, o violets The ferm wis the taste o hinney, o hotterin hotch potch The ferm wis a brooch, preened in the hairt o Birse A Puckle Scottish Proverbs A bird in the haun is wirth ten fleein. A fu purse niver lacks friens A gweed tale niver tires in the tellin Ay bide within yer means A leear should hae a gweed memory A licht purse makks a heavy hairt Aa's weel that eyns weel Dinna cowp the aipple cairt A rich chiel's wooin is nae aften lang Feels mak feasts an wyce fowk eat them He that lives on hope his a slim diet The wyce makk jokes and feels repeat them. Ye'll bide lang barfit wytin fur deid men's sheen Mony cooks ne'er made gweed kail Never show your teeth unless you can bite Keep yer thochts tae yersel A wyce lawyer niver gaes tae law himsel Be blythe fin yer leevin yer a lang time deid Gin wishes wir horses beggars wid rise He's licked the butter frae ma breid Better be alane than in bad company. Birds o a feather flock thegither. Ye can makk a kirk or a mill o it Teem tabards like tae blether Gin ye teach yersel ye've a gype fur a maister The cure micht be waur than the disease Time an tide wyte on nae man A rich wife's ill tae please Fin ae yett sticks, anither ane opens. Fin the wine sinks syne wirds sweem Nae silk purse cams frae a soo's lug It costs nae siller tae dream Ye should jist keep yer braith tae cweel yer parritch There's aye watter far a stirkie droons Oor Auld Scots proverbs'll keep ye richt A saft haun rears coorse loons 3 Scots owersetts o Poems bi Michaelangelo Buonarroti Love's flame doth feed on age._ Gin some mild warmth o luve in youth confessed Kinnles a fresh hairt wi faist birddlin fire, Fit will the dunt be o a flame mair dire Steeked up inby an auld chiel's cinnery breist? Gin the mere loss o raxxin years hae pressed Sae sair that smeddum, force, an virr aa maun tire, Foo shall he fare fa maun ere lang expire, Fin tae auld age is added luve's unrest? Dweeble's masel, he will be furled awa Like stoor bi wins kind in their cruelty, Reivin the ugsome wirm o its last prey. A teenie flame consumed an fed on me In ma green age: noo that the timmer's dry, Fit hope agin this fire mair fierce hae I? On Peintin the Sistine Chapel I've grown a goitre bidin in this den - As cats frae stanks o burns in Lombardy, Or in fit ither land they chaunce tae be - That drives the stammache close aneth the chin: Ma beard turns up tae heiven; ma nape faas in Drapt on ma spine: ma breist-bane veesibly Grows like a harp: a rich embroidery Skitters ma face frae brush-dreeps, thick and thin. My hochs intae ma kyte like levers grind: My dowp some like like a crupper bears ma wecht; Ma feet unguided wanner back an fore; In front ma skin grows lowse an lang; ahin, Bi booin it becams mair ticht an straicht; Crosswise I raxx me like a Syrian bow: Sae fause an fey, I ken, Maun be the fruit o squintin harns an ee; Fur ill can aim the gun that boos skweejee. Cam syne, Giovanni, try Tae succour ma deid picturs an ma fame; Since fool I fare an peintin is ma shame. Brawness an the artist A hairt o flamin sulphur, flesh o towe, Banes o dry timmer, sowel wioot a guide Tae stap the fiery will, the brierin pride O strang desires, fraepassions flown awa; An sichtless harns, sae dweeble, cripplit aa Mids snares an pitfaas skittered hyne an wide; - Fit winner gin the first chaunce brand applied Tae fuel massed like this should makk it braw? Add bonnie art, which, brocht wi us frae heiven, Will conquer natur; - sae divine a pouer Belangs tae him fa tcyauves wi ilkie nerve. Gin I wis vrocht fur art, frae bairnhood gien A prey fur burnin brawness tae devour, I blame the mistress I wis born tae serve.