Serjeant Buchan's Jacket (32 Scots Poems)

1.The Gweedman's Craft Shaman, seannachie, deevilock, Deil Clootie, Hornie, shameless cheil Gweedman's Craft is an eildritch airt A neuk in a path that's set apairt For ootlinned things frae the fermer's lan For aathin lued bi the Great God Pan 2.Auld Steadins Auld steadins hae the cherm o teem cathedrals The Breid, the Lamb, the Ram A bield ahin the lichtenin an the storm Anely the antrin moose or rotten's een Teetin ooto the mirk, wee chinks o licht 3.Kittlins A kittlin is a miew that wauks, it neither wirks nur wints Gin there's nae meat upon its mat, it rubs yer leg an hints Perfidious, pernickety, it's fyky tae a faut Bit it's a dowie kinna hoose that disnae ain a cat! 4.Daffs I like daffs, wee nyaffs that growe Like dandelions ben the howe They're chaip an cheerful. Wordsworth tee Admired the daffs tremendously An he could makk them seem real posh Mair haute cuisine than common nosh Stapt in a pot they bring the sun Inno yer chaumer. Daffs are fun. 5.Al Fresco lunch Dauchlin in the gowans, nebbin up a moch Five an twenty corbies at an al fresco troch Sun abeen their feathers, a buttery kind o sheen Five an twenty corbies on a tablecloot o green. 6.Sae Wild, Sae Weet Luely the saftsome win Shoogles the booin seggs On timmer legs The pier wauks inno the loch A warld o green an blue Sae weet, sae wild 7.Scoops A sunseekin banker caad Stan, Bocht the Daily Gazette in Milan He read aa the news withoot weirin his trews An feenished the page wi a tan 8.Three Sisters Three sisters traivelled tae the toon The yalla, green an reid The fair-haired quine drank deep o wine An slept gin she'd bin deid. The green ladye she pierced a vein Tae draa the dragon's flame The roses dwined upon her cheeks An wi them, her gweed name. The third tuik ony man tae bed An catched an orra smit That's caused sic grief ower Africa There's nane can cradle it. Three sisters traivelled tae the toon The yalla, reid an green Bit wersh the pleisurs they fand there An solace, they got nane. 9.The Dwaumin Street A kirk spire dwaums o pews Full tae the gunnels, aa roads leadin tae God. Waas guaird their territory, ettle tae be Chinese Raxx ben continents Hooses sikk tae be teem o stoor an stooshie Anely the antrin street licht teetin in 10.The Wynd The wynd curves like a heuk. Fit's wytin roon the neuk? The haar an the mochie rain, rin doon each windae pane The bluid lowps in the hairt as the wheels o a creakin cairt Are swallaed up bi the nicht in an airt far aa's nae richt Dinna step oot an luik in the wynd wi the nerra neuk Mony hae gaen afore bide in an snib the door! 11.Scotland fae a Flee's Richt Ee Bzzzzzz I'm fleein hyne ower Hampden's girse Thon's nae a meen, a fitbaa hings ower Glesga Wid traffic leavin Troon takk extra care? A zebra's bein air-liftit tae Crieff At Archeolink a Pict wi bowfin oxters Is howkin eels an dolphins on a steen A corbie's pykin at a nyakkit knight Liftin the skin like lid aff pizza boxie Police are takkin hoofprints frae a kelpie Accused o keechin ower George's Square. The witnesses, a puddock an a Druid Swore blin the culprit's really Desperate Dan 12.The Clootie Tree Ae tree maun thole a wecht o wae fur as the tears that's skailed Aroon the warld ilkie day tae its roch boughs are nailed. The win that wheechs alang its glen's the sab o misery An dowie, dowie is the wish hings on the Clootie Tree The antrin leaves are tipped wi gowd, wishes that hae been met Fur ane that's gien, there's ten unseen at Lamentation's yett. 13.Miracles in Fife A shoal o mackerel sweem in the clouds ower Fife Herrin are on the horizon, skytin doon wattergaws Waves hae appeared, fell like a seagull armada An ilkie secunt rock is growin fuskers. 14.Fvvie Wids Oh Fyvie's wids are sweet an braw Bit dinna bide ower lang There's twa that dauchle bi the burn Far witcherie is thrang They keep the tryst they pledged in life That Fate decreed they manna The mools sit licht on restless banes That fain wad sleep, bit canna. Oh Fyvie's wids are sweet an braw Bit Sorra's wintry blast Like a cauld dyew cams rushin throwe The deid haun o the past 15.Driftwood Inventory The gurly sea haives sleet an hail Far boats are sindered bi the gale For writ in watter's ilkie name The angeret waves intend tae claim The strand is far the tides gie back The smaa receipts frae ilkie wrack 16.On a Scottish Beach The Lido raises Euros, The Scots beach raises plooks Wi rinny snoots an noses An caul in aa yer nyeuks 17.The Boaties' Lullaby A bourach o boats are hunkered doon Chyned tae the herbour neth the meen A hugmahush o a hoor gyangs by Miniskirt an stiletto sheen Fair ferfochan, the tide rowes ower The deck is teem an the nets are bare Wi raggedy duds the hameless creep Aff tae the glaur o a nameless lair Hushie-ba sings the herbour waa Even the scurrie steeks its moo The haar that's happin the herbour bar Sleeps tae the watter's saft balloo 18.Somethin's Fishy Somethin fishy's on the stran Skeleton o shag an shark Fish heid orrals left ahin Herrin wymes without the sark Guddlin like a vicious watch Daith's bin paiddlin bi the tide Luikin fur a human catch Mithers, takk yer bairns an hide 19.Muckle Whale, Blue Kirk Ooto the moo o a whale Cam a blue kirk spewin oot a heeze o tracts Washed ashore nearhaun tae the Butt o Lewis. The Leviathan skelped its tail, cried 'Hallelujah' Precentors ran tae catch the soun in nets. 20.The Wolf an the Lamb: Tune, Mill o Tiftv's Annie Pluscarden Abbey's ringed wi sang Frae the green wids blithe an bonnie Its howe's a crucible o sang Sweet upon the lug as hinney The faither's gie their life's wark ower Tae the god they haud as maister For ilkie step on the road they takk There's anither fit gyangs faister Fite roses lowp far the breem flooers cowp In the sheuch a blue bell's dwinin Its doverin heid is a wizzenin weed Simmer growth, bit ae flooer's crinin The gorblie smaa an the craikin craa Ay the Wolf an Lamb thegither Auld Bane-Shanks wyles them ane an as For the black pyoke ower his shooder The Leevin wauk ben a story road Till the day they maun be cairriet In this mortal warld tae the licht be thirled Wi the mools ye'll lang be merriet 21.The Day I adopted a Balloon Bill Breenger wis a bosker o a balloon He wis a birthday loon if ye iver kent ane Al Catraz wis a bruiser, a wee Zeppelin Sure tae gyang oot wi a bang Sophie-Marie wis jist a puffed up midden Sae I adopted Dod, a green balloon On the peely-wally side. I kent that I cud twist him roon ma finger 22.Jock Thamsan's Bairns: A Scottish Cliché An alien's drappit fae Planet Z Wi twa green plooks fur een He slivves an snochers- a minky Ted An he cams frae ayont the meen Bit dinna be fleggit bi sic-like things He'll nae gie cause fur concerns Fur jumbos, Jehosephas, bugs wi lugs We're as Jock Thamsan's bairns. The moocher, the prigger, the druggie, the chore The cyard wi the clarty claes The malagaroozed an the three quarts boozed Wi the gweed maun share their days We shoogle alang, the hale jing-bang On the rickety cairt thegither A twa three turns on the craikin wheel Aa's stoor, baith sanct an sinner Tae the Glory-Hole o Eternity, Nirvana an Tir nan Og The yalla, the reid, the near-haun deid Maun wauk ben the trimmlin bog 0 flegs bumbazement an ootricht joy Frae Rome tae the Howe o Mearns There's nane can swick Valhalla's rick Fur we're as Jock Thamsan's bairns! 23.Six Things I Ken Tae be sung in the mainner o a kirk precentor on a weet Sabbath in damp breeks yoamin o mochbaas Herrin are best fried flat bi anxious mothers The Dalai Lama weirs ma faither's scarf Cras niver haud their parliaments in Embro The flees in Washington rin roon yer sark Crocodiles niver brakk win efter stovies A restin greenhouse is a bonnie sicht 24.The Muckle Bear This bear's a stoater. He's a literary breet. He dis his daunce tae oos an ahs o winner Fowk speir as he shauchles alang Humfin his literary eerins, His wikk's wecht o wirds: `Are ye the anely black bear in yer family? Can onybody larn tae be a bear? Hae ye a favourite bear? Jist wave yer paws again... Gie us a roar... Ae mair time....ye ken, the wye we like See yon muckle bear? I kent his faither.' 25.A Thoosan Steps: Balquidder There is a swack yett in a seely airt, Wi a knot-hole the wud bee fussles throw, Far foxglove plays her cairds close tae her chest, Her thummles steeked tae keep her hinney-dyew. Ootbye, the tar-faced lammies peengin bleet Mells wi the lintie's upsy-doonsy sang. A gash o watter breenges ben twa skelps, 0 girssy bank that merk the burns wae gaun. The lochan wummles like an efterstang. In a tin troch, roost watter fulls wi cloud. Treelips o strae waucht in the sonsie breeze. Ben the roch air three laricks showdy powd. Anither hiunner steps. The loch boos roon Like some young, glekit, dwaumin luv-seek quine Barin her showders tae her lover's haun, The stanes, her rig bane raxxin tae her wyme. Hauf-wye. Twa Druid aiks makk nae repon As I wauk fusslin tae their timmer lair. A ruined steadin's nyakkit tae the win, An open door tae aa that waunner there. Waves wash their bobbin coracles o licht Aroon a tree struck doon in a deid dreel, Its dry limbs skeletal, its skaith sae deep Nae aa the tears o Heiven cud wash it weel. A burnie treetles in aneth the road, A happit drooth its gluggeran is slee, Till breengin oot, a drukken ne'er dae weel It poors the loch a dram o peaty bree. A yowe keechs on the brae, aside a sign That says ye mauna picnic on the lan... Bit keech awa... there's nane tae care or myne, Nocht bit the shmoodrie smashrie o the san. A thoosdan steps. A conservation airt Here free-reenge ferns wi pee-the-beds aboon A doonpish in the affin. Natur soors Sae ae smaa cloud can marr the mapamoun 26.At the Hinmaist Trump The caterpillar on the leaf Repeats to thee thy mother's grief Kill not the moth nor butterfly For the last Judgement draweth nigh—William Blake Hell's Bells, it's the hinmaist trump Hieronymus Bosch's Haywain's stappt wi sowels Graves are teemin frae Leuchars tae Hindustan Lucifers lichtin their fags A hantle o seraphim, cherubim, Hudderie hawks, are hitchin a hurl tae Heiven Ahin Hell's angels revvin up Jacob's laidder Daein a ton. Me? I'll be pykin moosewabs ooto ma teeth I'll be caimbin the yird frae ma hair Sae stiff auld beens can turn A Millenium or ten in a sax fit kist Alang wi ma forebears, efterbears, Bugbears et cetera stappt inno the cosie kirn 0 a kirkyaird. Oh isn't it rare, thon sense o communal rot Fin yer richt jowl crummles inno yer grannie's crannie? We'll cowp the daffs frae their bowls Shakk hauns wi Freud an Plato, Hae an induction tour o the ooter galaxies Oh ma dysfunctional genes, we'll as hae a gran day oot Nae doot there'll be punch ups, blaw oots, makk ups, faa oots Afore we traivel alaft or doon ablow, Quasimodo ma lugs are ringin wi thon clattervengeance o soun Siccan a steer, the eyn o warld an the eyn o the warld's miner! 27.Bride I merriet a fermer's loon Lan wis sib tae ma clan Near far ma race began I merriet a fermer's loon Noo, I bide in a toon Steen streets on ilkie haun I merriet a fermer's loon Lan wis sib tae ma clan 28.Auld Scots Leid The Auld Scots Leid's a bonnie sailin ship Its cargo's cairriet at its kintra's hairt The spikk o Kings an Commons, joy an maen The Auld Scots Leid's a bonnie sailin ship Stinch vrocht tae veesit mony's the unca airt Sweire, thrawn an swippert, breistin the snell faem, The Auld Scots Leid's a bonnie sailin ship Its cargo's cairriet at its kintra's hairt 29.The Makker's Smit Daybrakk's like a straucht-backed gentle quine That rises in a wid o weel-faired suitors I am the carlin cooriet in the cave Steerin the spirkin hotterel o the leid It is my curse, my blissin an my weird An sae, the warld claims me. I claim it Frae fremmit fowk, gley-eed, I sidlins shift Foraye I wad amang wud craiturs sit Like a grey stag descreivit in auld lays An there's the verra knub, the peety o't He wauks alane fae takks the Makker's smit 30.Faither & Dother Veesit the Sale-room F) Thon's a gran kist. A kistie's aywis eesefu D) Is it tae keep things in, or haud things oot? F) An oor-gless wi't... An sic a bonnie time-piece! D) Ochone, foo fest the san rins throwe its face... F) There's a pine door. It's got a braisse name-plate An flesh o mine, luik cannie at the date.. D) Yer nae tae buy it. Ony kist bit thon. An fit'll cam o me gin yer awa? F) I'm haein it. I've made the final bid. Fegs quine, a da growes weariet at the eyn. I lue ye, Bit there's whyles ye've bin a tcyauve. I canna staun aa day an chaa the cwid. It fits me snug. A bosie lass, ta ta. Noo bugger aff an let me steek the lid. 31.Fower Glisks o a Glen I saw a heron this foreneen Cloud ower the trootie's lair He micht hae bin a Buddha-steen He didna meeve a hair. At noon, day brocht a thing unsocht A mavis bi the shingle Hairt warmin as the Shiva flame That lowps aroon the ingle Noo gloam gaes rikkin aff the Ben June's wa-gaun fae Balquidder The ghaistie-claes o Beltane's days Rise in a heeze thegither Aa spirks o rain drapt ower the glen Lulled in the lochan's briest Ferfochan traivellers frae the lift Gaen solace, an a reest. 32.Luv-Sang I am the fite steen by the loch I am the watter's bride He lues me weel my cauldrife lord Sae leal tae him I bide Tho we hae neither lum nor reef Nor lintel tae oor hame Throw smirr an weet, throw sun an sleet I offer him ma wame