The Pierrot's Narrative (16 Scots Poems)

1.The Daith o Merlin The wizard, Merlin, dreed his weird In Stobo, ower the altarstane For here, St Kentigern made Him Christian, baith in fact an name Neist day he met the three-fauld end Lang-propheseed that he wad dee Sae passed awa the greatest Lord In aa the haas o Druidry Staned by the shepherds o the Queen Hunted, and mired in bluid an dub He slippit doon the banks o Tweed Ontae the stakes the fish traps haud The river turned traitor. Syne, Gript bi the timmer spikes, he drooned. By Drumelzier, his corp wis laid Near whaur he got his mortal wound Alang the Tweed the yowes graze yet Cream roses cup the dyews o dawn Merlin's a name writ in the mist Whaur ay the murderous waves rin on. 2.The Wids o Snaa The wins come wi a whimper Intae the snaa's snare The hoolet's laidder o holly Leads tae a hunter's lair Berries like draps o bluid Hing in the frostit air. Silent's the hut an midden, Hoodie craa-wings flap, Far the meen floats on a lochan An the aik losses its sap, An the ruthless snaa faas saftly, Ower a booed snaadrap. Wids are the deers' chaumer Sic a wintry hoose! Their reef is cloud an blizzard They drink o winter's juice; The adder tichtens its coils Like a siller noose. Wids are wechtit wi cranreuch Like whale boats locked in a sea Steeked in the grip o winter They thole fit the storm can gie Hail, like a shooer o arras, The Sizzen's perfidy 3.A Paeon in Praise o Backies: tune Men o Harlech Morag's backie guffs o kippers Fooshty bedspreids, clorts o dung Rhubarb peelins tattie sweelins Posts wi dreepin hippens hung Mrs Peerie's got a barbi Q she canna licht ava Omar Agra stots his fitba Up agin her lavvie waa Dinna utter't there's a futterat Lockit in a hutch an pen Cannie! It will takk yer haun aff Spitfire in a glaury den Kyle O'Reilly birls his skateboord Roon an roon frae morn till late He has chippit as the peintwirk On his neebor's gairden gate Myra Mislov's backie it is Fu o sparkies, brickies, skips Her extensions an their skitters Stap a hunner cooncil skips Backies orra, backies bonnie Backies happit, backies seen Reeze them oot, oor kintra's backies They're fit keep oor cities green! 4, Rajah on a jumbo See thon chiel on the jumbo's back His heid wipped roon wi a turban blue Swyte, nae gowd, fills his cotton cloots Wi his dhoti reid roon his tooteroo Fine, tae hurl on a jumbo's heicht Jist the dab fur a rajah's pet Fine tae move like a waukin hoose Better nor bike, nor ship, nor jet 5.Auld Sea Dugs Their een weir farawaa luiks, like they war tint In some thick haar nae ship micht penetrate They guff o fish an satt, o salmons' semen Their pooches bulge wi mariners' lucky cherms At nicht they dream o herbour hoors langsyne, Labsters wi snappin cleuks, an scaley mermaids Auld sea dugs cock their lugs at tidal roars Their snoots are mirled-reid like vintage claret 6.Teem Bed The teem bed says it aa. It winted to be entered bi a couple Regular or itherwise. Eftir the luv act, It winted tae haud them close, twa pearls in an oyster. The bed wis lanely, it needed tae be a harbour. It needed tae be a berth tae banes an flesh It was a thochtie like snaw at nicht It wintit tae be a hearth fur the eftir-stang It wintit tae be a cup far love cud sip. 7.Twa Sisters If, fin the family hame is sounly sleepin an the bairn hoasts in its crib and the meen is a wersh, cracked plate preened tae the waa o heiven If ye could veesit the chaumer o twa young sisters binnorie, o binnorie, fit dae ye think ye'd fin? `We are alane, alane, ' they micht cry `born alane an like tae dee alane, bit in atween, fa'll come tae tryst us oot frae this chaumer that anely the meen an sorra veesits? Oh we are ladies in wytin. Fa will open the screens an luik on oor separate bodies an choose ane ower the tither? Twa sisters, ane perjink, ane hallyrackit baith wytin fur a fitstep at the door. 8.Leanin Twa covers o ae hynmbuik, luvers leanin Thegither. Love's fit gies thon couple meanin Sic-like the Touer o Pisa, it should faa Upheld wi anely sunlicht for a waa Sic-like the gorblies in a hoolet's reest That lean for warmth intae their mither's breist Sic-like the staff o life...a daud o breid Tae keep man upricht, on it man maun feed Sic-like Balgownie Brig, frae bank tae bank It leans sae traivellers aa may cross dry-shank Whyles, aa maun hae a crutch, tae stop thon list That cowps us sidiewyes inno the kist 9.Cat in a Tree There aince wis a cat in a tree Fa thocht, like a bird, she cud flee Bit her heid wis sae big She got jammed on a twig Noo she canna climm doon fur her tea 10.Hello again, Grampian Weel, Grampian, I hae bin aff on ma traivels Hob-nobbin wi a wheen nearhaun Strathyre Bit I aye come back tae ye, Grampian. 'Mmmphm', ye say. Ye niver say muckle `Yer affa quate' the fowk doon yonner telt me Bit I'd spukken fower hale sentences as wikk An this, as ye ken, Grampian, is a lang langamachie Fur ain o yer North East bairns. 11.Ferlies I Tint I tint ma beads in the burn Far the kittlin threids the seggs Wi thrums o purrs I tint ma name fin I wed Till the merriege ring Sank in the midden's glaur I tint ma mither's kirk Throw the harns' riddle, Tho its spire stuck in ma craw Like an auld cod's bane I tint ma maidenheid Like a coin doon quicksand Nae amount o scrattin Cud win it back I tint ma waes in the wid, Far the keekin sun Steeked blitheness ower ma skin A bonnie quilt I tint ma faither Bit fand him in ma showders A ramrod aywis haudin Me stinch an straicht I tint ma fear o Daith At the open kist The kent face cheenged tae steen The warmth, flittit 12.The Mither The mould cracked fin they poored her intae mither Bairnhood wis nae apprenticeship fur this She'd played wi swords an rifles, like her brither The efterstang brocht service tae anither Thon early months o milk an tears an piss Aa selfish thocht, aa freedom she maun smother Add nurse, cook, skivvy tae the role o luver Bit sooklin brocht a kind o bovine bliss The cord's prehensile steel she'd sune discover Duty an luve are pouerfu yoked thegither Twin chynes that rugged her back frae the abyss The tides o bluid rin deep, arnae fair-weather Aa bairns are blended whisky...hauf the faither Hauf mither, speerit, rowed in a fite dress Syne, fur tradition, blessed wi haly watter Somewye a sacrifice at a high altar Wis vrocht, the meenit that she booed tae kiss The newborn bairn. Her neck accepts the halter It's far ower late tae rewind fate, dae better Like baas thrown at a fair, some bowls ye miss There is nae re-sit course fur a begetter In ilkie Eden, happit serpents hiss 13.Rowantree Reid rowan rings the cradle O the littlin, gin the derk Widdershins, comes bringin in A changelin bairn, in borraed sark. Nicht-time warlocks at their wark Tie the rowan, ticht an guid Reet this seely, weirie-tree Eildritch, sae that luck an licht Evermair will follae ye 14.Puil at Dhanakosa Plap the paddock plyters ben Up an doon the sappy brae In his jaiket, emerant green Like a creashie-belly't fey At the foun o segg an weet Treetlin a splay fittit breet Doverin dunderheidit flooers Hing like bells the bummers ring Anthem o blinkbonnie oors Nestin swifties skyte an sing Aathin's growth. The Sizzen staps Kists o pollen in the sheugh Ower the hairstin wings o bees Saftly, simmer breezes sooch Autumn, syne, will cry 'Eneuch' 15.Sebastian in a Dwaum A Scots Owersett o a poem bi Georg Trakl (1887-1914) Mither cairriet the wee bairn in the fite meen, In the shadda o a walnut, o the auncient elder Fu wi the bree o poppies, the coronach o the mavis An seelent. A fuskeret physog fu o peety booed abeen her. Saft the windae's derkness; on the forebears' auld gear Lay dwinin, luv in an Autumn dwaum. Sic-like derk the day o the year, dowie bairnhood, Fan the loon saftly cam doon tae cweel watter. Siller fishes, quaet on countenance, Fin he haived hissel steenily afore breengin blaik shelts An his starnie cam ower him in grey nicht Or fan he crossed St Peter's Autumn mools In the gloamin, haudin his mither's ice-caul haun A delicate corp lay seelent in the chaumer's derk An liftit its cauld eelids ower him. Bit he wis a wee bird on nyaakit branches The bell lang in Novemmer gloam His faither's seelence fan in sleep he cam doon The gloamin's twinin stair The sowl's quaet. Lanely Yuletide nicht The derk makkk o shepherds bi the auld puil; A wee bairn in a strae hut; o foo saft Its physog dwined awa in blaik fevers Haly nicht. Or, fan haudin his faither's hard haun He wauked in seelence up Ben Calvary An in the gloamin neuks o rock The blae makk o Man stravaiged throw his legend An purple bluid ran frae a hurt aneth the hairt O foo saft the cross raise in the derk sowl Luv, fin in blaik crannies the snaa thawed A blae sooch o win played peaceful ben the auld elder In the shadda-vault o the walnut An the loon's crammosie Angel stude saft afore him Bytheness, fan in cweel chaumers a sonata soundit at gloam An in broon timmer beams A blae butterflee creepit frae its siler chrysallis O the near-haunness o daith. In the steen waa A yalla heid booed, the bairn seelent While thon Merch the meen crummlit Reid daffie in the kirkyaird vault o nicht An the siller voices o the starnies Sae that a derk wud-ness sank chitterin Frae the sleeper's broo. O foo quaet a wauk doon the blae burn Thinkin on tint ferlies while in green boughs The mavis cried unkent ferlies intae crocanation Or fan, haudin the auld chiel's beeny haun He wauked in the gloam ayont the crummlit city waa An the chiel cairriet a wee reid bairn in his blaik jaiket The speerit o coorseness appeared in the walnut's shadda Sclimmin ower the green steps o simmer, o foo saft The gairden dwined in the broon seelence o Autumn Guff an was o the auld elder, fan in Sebastian's shadda The siller soun o the Angel deid awa. 16.Owersetts inno Scots, o threads an thrummles taen frae the wark o Rene Char (1907-1988) The nicht, a heich clachan o birds Giein it laldy, flees by Fan the young chiel gaed on his wye Gloamin lay on yer face like a stane A sang feenishes exile The lammie-win brings back fresh growthe Apairt frae ye, may ma flesh Be the sail that cooers frae the win A birdsang gies the foreneen's branch a begeck I wis naethin mair thon day than twa shanks waukin Ma veesion dwined, a zero in the mids o ma face In the park at Nevons the girse-lowper sleeps Fite cranreuch an hail bring Autumn in An the win decides fit'll fa first, Leaves or nesties. Sic a sang is the cushie-doo's fin the shooer draws near The air is poodered wi smirr, wi ghaistly sunlicht I waken washed, I thaw as I rise I gaither the douce lift Foo this road rather nur thon? Cryin us on sae urgent, far dis it lead? Fit trees an friens are alive ahin The horizons o thon stanes?