The Rabbit Man: Scots Poems

A Deeside Loon: Wizard of the North: John Anderson(1814-1874) John Anderson wis born, a cottar loon Kincardine o'Neil it wis his place o birth An fin a lad, he wirkit wi a smith There, larnt mechanics faist, a lad o wirth He stertit his career in Scottie's Troupe Performer in a Penny Theatre show In Aiberdeen, an in the Penny Rattler Far drama, dauncin, sangs wir aa the go Syne in the Theatre Royal, Marischal Street Billed as a‘slecht-o-haun'performin act He'd traivel up Deeside fur leisur time An try his tricks, the locals tae distract At Potarch brig, he watched peat cutters stack Their peats. Hebrukk a cuttit peat in twa Oot drappt a sixpence, neist, a guinea fell Bumbazed, they reezed the wizard oot tae aa In Forres, tho, Professor Anderson, The Wizard, wis thocht linkit wi the deil He ludged there wi a cailleach, fa renaged An swore he guffed o brimsteen. Tae the jyle Puir John wis taen. The polis ordered him Tae cam oot throw the keyhole. Fit a styte! A nicht inbye the cells fair scunnered him Hid aa the fowk in Forres toun gaen gyte? His maisterpiece it wis the great gun trick He'd catch a fired bullet in his teeth A rabbit he cud pu oot frae his hat Sic winners tae the future he'd bequeath! Bit whyles in Aiberdeen, he still wid act He'd be Rob Roy, or betimes Wannerin Steenie Sax fit in heicht he wis a sonsie chiel At conjurin he wis as gleg's a genii He traivelled aa the warld, a stammygaster (At the Antipodes fin Gowd wis fand) His bills wir postit on the Pyramids Weel kent in mony's the hyne aff furreign lan His Inexhaustible Bottle, couldproduce Near ony drink the audience micht sikk His biggest rival wis the French Houdini Fa wis the best? Baith chiels the ee could swick! The Wizard sired a growin faimily Baith in an ooto wadlock, he supportit He made an tint twa fortunes in his time Baith caused bi fire it later wis reportit The Glega City Theatre,Glesga Green The Covent Gairden Theatre, Lunnon toun The Theatre Royal, aa fell tae the flame Aa brocht the Wizard's siller tummlin doon A weel kent Lunnon Magazine The Era, It testifeed he could unpyke aa locks, Tae fish oot unca ferlies frae their kisties Sic like as tickin gowden westcoat clocks He screived a braw Haun-buik o Natural Magic Stappt wi a rowth o fey experiments The Conjuror's Table, Gun Trick, cairds an ruses Self-Balancin Pail, an ither rudiments Saxty year auld, this gran maister o magic In Darlington, clean foonert, dwined awa An wi his hinmaist wirds, he speirt his family That Aiberdeen should be his hinmaist staa St Nicholas's kirkyaird's green an leafy The Wizard's wi his mither in the toun An thonner cam the winnerfu Houdini Tae pye respecks this braw Deeside loon. The Brukken Hairt A brukken hairt's a thing hauf-deid Ghaistie's are sair fin brocht tae myne Yet still it dunts an thrums wi bluid A mither's son is hard tae tyne The road ma laddie wauked wis teuch Ghaistie's are sairly brocht tae myne An dragons sleepit in the sheugh A mither's son is hard tae tyne His bouer wis shilpit, sma an dour Ghaistie's are sairly brocht tae myne There he kent mony's a lanely oor A mither's son is hard tae tyne If there be hope, far there is nane Ghaistie's are sairly brocht tae myne He'll ken the flooers in Heiven's domain A mither's son is hard tae tyne Blin Drift Whyles it strikks in the smaa oors A widdendreme frae ae nicht's coorse mishanter Yuletide, a veesit tae uplan kin Shmoodricks o snaa, furled doucely doon Saft an slaw an bonnie, on roads aa bare o ice Three month auld, oor babby loon Asleep in his cairry-cot, on the car's back seat We stertit oot, his da, me, an hissel Wee angel face, a skiffin o hair on his heid His moo like a swete, weet, gean, an innocent An aa gaed fine till the boddom o the Clash Thon steely climm up the brae o a stormy hill Blin drift happit the winscreen, a dauncin dervish Smored the lan, till dykes drapt ooto sicht Wheels sliddered ower the road, gaed wud an reckless Ma fingers on the steerin wheel grippt fite The antrin tree wis skeletal, bane fite Terrifeed, I won tae a lanely staunin shop The ainer, consarned that ony gype should drive On sic a night, wi sic a teenie bairn Brocht oot a blanket, a hett watter bottle Tae keep him warm until we reached the clachan An I myndt on a fermer chiel on a night like thon Wauked roon an roon his park, nae fifty yairds frae hame Roon an roon till he drappit, fair ferfochan, Deein o cauld, that seepit inno his skin The air ootbye the car, wis cauldrife's a morgue Sic a dweeble thing, the line atween life an daith Sae easy snuffed oot like a caunleflame Lang eftir we sat bi the lowe, warmed wi tea an a dram Safe an snod inbye oor destination Inbye I keepit chitterin, terror fleggit Arithmophobia Fin I wis wee, nummers were like: A gob in the ee As fearie as wabs in yer face As sherp as a teacher's nail rugged doon a blackboord As jeelin's a dentist's drill As unchauncy's a tickin bomb As painfu's a noose on a gibbet As coorse as stingin hornets As ugsome's a byle Addin it aa up Nummers hae aywis left me Withoot ae shank tae staun on In the Gairden Blackie stots ower girse, powks fur a wirm A bumbee gathers nectar frae a flooer Spurgiescause a steer, they cheep an girn Gallus craws skreich lood at ilkie oor Doos curmuran blether in the tree A craw cocks on a lamppost, blaik an dour Ower fower lawns a dug bowfs nestily Frae dockens ten blaik eemocks treetle aff An Ettercap wyves moosewabs bonnily A kittlin chases birdies, the wee nyaff A hairy oobit wummles frae a leaf Scurries skelloch heich, syne flichter aff An aa the while the washin on the line Wallop an skelp, aneth the hett sunshine Jenny lang legs wauchts on skinny shanks Gowans dwaun alang the simmer day A rubbit pammersoot on furry flanks An aa the while a mavis threips her lay A pyot cams stravaigin like a laird Hornygollachs creep roon rowan spray A forkietale rins sleekit ower the yird A heeze o pee the beds bleeze ooto like gowd A stirlin cercles like a fleein gird An aa the while, the wanderin willies showd The gairden craiturs dinna staun in queues The sun plays teetie-bo ahin a cloud Aa's blythe in June. The girse is thrang wi steer The hinneypot that's Mither Natur's sphere Ye're a Lang Time Deid Ye've niver swam the Barrier Reef? Takk a plane an breenge aheid! Dinna lat a meenit waste Remember, ye're a lang time deid Ye'd like tae bungee lowp in France? Grip the meenit ticht indeed! Takk the ferry ower the waves Remember, ye're a lang time deid Ye fancy somebody frae afar? Grab the thrissle bi the heid! Tell them straicht, ye've nocht tae loss Remember, ye're a lang time deid Ye'd like tae sclimm Mount Everest? Crack on, brither withoot dreid! Tho ye skyte doon on yer dowp Remember, ye're a lang time deid Larn Swahili, fencin, chess Live, afore ye rin tae seed! There's nae study in the mools Remember, ye're a lang time deid Wheesht…is thon the doctor spikkin? Cock yer lugs. Ye maun takk heed Aathin's best in moderation Remember, ye're a lang time deid Atheist? Agnostic? Theist? Explore ilkie different creed Fin the ane that suits yersel Remember, ye're a lang time deid Dinna claik ill aboot ithers Gossip spukken's quick tae spreid Seelence is the kindest wye Remember, ye're a lang time deid Gie yersel the gift o quaet Life is mair than cheese an breid Try a whylie still an calm Remember, ye're a lang time deid Spent a lifetime gaitherin gear? Luv is better far than greed There's nae pooches in a shroud Remember, ye're a lang time deid Fowk makk judgements on yer spikk? Be prood o the guid Scots leid! Sune yer tongue'll stop its claik Remember, ye're a lang time deid Like the girse oor time is shortsome Rose, an queen, dictator, weed Fame's a leaf that dwines an faas Remember, ye're a lang time deid Scots Owersetts o Poems bi Miroslav Holub Dwaums They sook man's sap as mune the dyew. A towe growes straicht frae the croon o the heid. A blaik swan hatches frae a stane An a heeze o angels in the lift is takkin an evenin class on the skid pan. I dwaum, sae I dwaum. I dwaum that three times three is nine, that the richt-haun rule hauds; an fin the circus leaves the trampit grun will aince mair owergrowe wi girse. Aye, girse. Ayont doot girse. Jist girse. Creative Screivin On the faist train tae Vienna she screives in her diary notes aboot Rome an Naples. Ink merks like parthenogenetic aphids, pages like bluid straiks o hamecamin doos. She is alane, gray, restored, a Leda lang efter the swan's awa, Odysseus retired at Lotophagitis. Back hame, in Maryland, the jotter will be beeriet in the typical drawer, amang the yallowed luv letters, amang the bairnies' hair curls, amang the dwined adult flooers, nearhaun the bowster far the libbit cat dwaums whylst Mahler's foraye foraye foraye smores in the green waapaper. It's her message tae pictured wee sons; It's her memmership in the club o Swifts, Goethes, Rimbauds, Horatiuses an deidwatch clockers. It's her monument ootlaistin bronze, five-dimensional fack, the hinmaist scrattin o auncient man on reindeer bane, the hinmaist drap o the dreepin sowel afore it turns tae rikk. The Hurtit They bring us brukken fingers, hain it, doctor. They bring brunt-oot een, houndit hoolets o hairts, they bring a hunner fite corpses, a hunner reid corpses, a hunner blaik corpses, hain it, doctor, on the ashets o ambulances they bring the wudness o bluid, the skirl o flesh, the seelence o birsslin, hain it, doctor. An fin we're shewin inch efter inch, nicht efter nicht, nerve tae nerve, muscle tae muscle, een tae sicht, they bring in even langer daggers, even mair fearie bombs, even mair braw victories, gypes. Scots Owersetts o Poems biUmberto Saba 1883-1957 Yule It's nicht, a wersh Yule. Ye heist the curtains a thochtie an teet oot. Yer hair blaws wudly; blitheness o a suddenty opens wide yer blaik een, an fit ye saw—it wis a pictur o the warld's eyn—comforts yer inmairst hairt, warms an calms it. A chiel wanners oot on a loch o ice, unner a cruikit streetlicht. Poetry It's as gin fur a chiel blootered bi the win, blinn't bi snaa—aa roon him an arctic mishanter lays intae the toun— a yett opens alang a waa. He gaes in. He fins again a leevin couthieness, the sweteness o a warm neuk. A tint nemme plunks a kiss on blythe faces that he hisnae seen bar obscure in fearie dwaams. He gaes back tae the street, an the street, as weel, isnae the same. Fine weather his cam back, eident hauns brakk up the ice, the blae reappears in the lift an in his hairt. An he thinks that ilkie extreme o coorseness foretells a gweed. Yule Noon At thon meenit fin I wis still blythe (God forgie thon muckle an awfu wird)fit near cheenged ma blytheness tae greets? Ye'll say: ‘Some bonnie craitur gaun by fa smiled at ye'. Na, a balloon, a blae balloon, wauchtin ben the blae lift, wi the natural air niver sae bricht in the cauld caller noon o a yule day. The lift wi a wee fite cloud, an the windaes alicht in the sun, an a smachrie o rikk frae a lum or twa, an abune thon ferlies, divine ferlies, the baa that escapit a bairn's clumsy haun (o a certainty he grat, in the mids o the crowd, ooto wae, his unca wae)atween the Stock Excheenge an the Coffee Hoose, far I sat, caller-eed, admirin his prize, ayont the glaiss, noo heistin, an noo faain. Fitethorn In Merch, in the street wi the fountain, the busse his waukent aa fite, bit it's nae sna thon, it's fite thorn chitterin at the first sough o daybrakk. Oor Meenit Dae ye ken a bonnier time o day than gloamin? Mair bonnie an less lued? Thon oor afore the sacred oors o idleness; the oor fin wirk is strang, an a heeze o fowk are seen on the streets; . ower the squar heeze o the hooses, a shadowymeen, ane ye can scarce makk oot in the quaet air. It's the time ye leave the kintraside tae takk blytheness in yer lued toun, frae the gulf tae the Bens puckles o aspecks in its bonnieness jyne; the oor fin ma life in flood rins like a river tae the sea; an ma thochts, the faist tramp o the fowk, the wirkman atap his heich laidder, the loon racin tae lowp on his rummlin cairt, aa seem tae jeel in the act, a this steer takks the luik o bein still. It's a gran hoor, the oor that best atteyns oor time o hairst ............................................. Oor Willy's Chipper Oor Willy's chipper o Aiberdeen Is a chippy o heich renoun Dis Willie wink fin fish frae the drink Becam suppers in Aiberdeen toun? It's anely the finest o quality Cod, Haddock, Plaice, fished frae the gale Willy's fish, chips an vinegar melts in yer mou It's sae testy ye'd swallae it hale Sushi Dae ye really ken fowk fa like sushi, Raw fish that is slimy an fooshty? It lies on the plate Like a jeely in state Till a seagull cams doon… it gaes whooshty! The Novice Husband, Mr Spurgie A spurgie attemptin tae breed Kept stottin atap his wife's heid Nae eggs big or smaa Jist a migraine or twa An his efforts aa rinnin tae seed The Doo Poo Sonata POOOOOOO- - - - -PPPP OOOOOOOO- - - - -PLOP PL PL PL PL PL- - - - -0000000 LLLLLLOP - - - - - - - LLLLLLLLOP PL…..OOOOOO……OP.OP.OP.OP.OP Figgy A skittish wee flooer caad Figgy Fa wis skinny in stature as Twiggy Fell in luve wi a slug Fa wis nesty an smug An he ett her aa up like a piggy The King o the Sea Slit the belly, cut aff the tail Strip the scales wi the back o a knife Rug ootthe guts, the roe the gills The haute cuisine o piscine life! A fisherman cast his net in the sea He drew frae the watter a michty Cod Weirin a croun atap his heid The best o the fishies, their King, their God The fisherman quo: ‘I'll sell ye sure! ' The King cried sair‘Let me gae free! ' Bit the fisherman said, ‘Some epicure Fur a slice o ye wid siller gie! ' The Kingwis selt at Aiberdeen An a hunner chippies aroon the coast Rowed in paper, they dished him up Wichips an pickles at a fair cost An still at nicht ye can hear his ghaist Priggin, ‘O fisherman set me free! ' An aa that's heard is a rummle an splash An sweesh o waves in the satty sea