Waking In Wolf Light (15 Scots Poems)

1.The Castlegate's Mary The 7th panel carved at the top of the Mercat Cross in Aberdeen's Castlegate, is that of Mary Queen of Scots. After the Battle of Corrichie, Lord John Gordon was executed before Mary in Aberdeen. Queen Mary views her subject in the toun A Catholic cross deep-cuttit in her goun A merble unicorn still stauns abune: An Honi soit qui mal y pense, forbye Gulls ootraxx their braid wings tae furl aroon Their screichin mellin wi the traffic soun Dis Mary ee thon courtin quine an loon? Ah, Honi soit qui mal y pense, the cry. Aince, aa fur luv o Mary, at the foun 0 this toun cross, her Scottish lords cast doon John Gordon, heidit wi a mortal woun Bit Honi soit qui mal y pense, the sigh. A lass, she thocht fair France the mapamoun 0 aa her joy. Flooers at her feet war strewn In Embro, Knox turned lauchter tae a froun Bit Honi soit qui mal y pense, sez I. 2.Heraclitus: A Scots Owersettin Heraclitus' poems were known as 'nightingales'. It gart me greet, wird o yer daith, auld frien, Myndin foo whyles at gloamin-tide we'd spikk Oor claik wad turn the sun intae the meen An noo I'm telt that yer bit stoor an rikk Tho Hades micht hae taen ye tae thon airt Far aa maun gyang, yer poems will sing yer praise Upon the branches o ma steidfaist hairt Fur poems are daithless in the Buik o Days. 3.Advice Tae Veesitin Scholars Tune: The Dundee Weaver Ye delegates frae as the airts convened in Aiberdeen It's planned tae takk ye towrin aroon the local scene The whisky at Glenlivet beats a tequila slam An kitties up yer speerits, sae be sure tae takk a dram Syne aff tae Cawdor Castle far Macbeth wis ance a thane Ye'll see it in the sunshine, bit aftener in the rain An weir an Afghan Burkah tae keep the midgies oot An pray the anely bites will be upon yer een an snoot Culloden Muir is dowie far the flooer o Scotian fell An ilkie man that stauns there, maun face its ghaists himsel There's nae a single kintra, that hisnae felt the stoun 0 war an confrontatioun, o skaith an battle woun An fin ye reach Kildrummy ye micht hear a skreich or twa The blacksmith traitor Osbarn, bit mair nur he could chaw The English gaed him gowd tae reward his treachery They meltit it an poored it doon his thrapple for a fee Ye canna come tae Scotian an nae jyne a Ceilidh daunce As weel drink Earl Grey in the Moulin Rouge in France They'll birl ye an kerfuffle ye, in eichtsome reels an knots They fairly like their jigs an jinks the contermaschious Scots Sae as ye furreign delegates come listen here tae me Ye canna come tae Scotlan an nae gyang on a spree Oor howfs'll gar ye hooch wi their firey usquebaugh Sae here's tae lear an fellowship, guid confiers, slainte mha! 4.The Auld Line, Ballater The bumble dauchles in the meadow-sweet The ragged robin brichts the river's bank The geans are swaalled, reid-chikkit on the stem A rabbit lowps, hett-fittit, swank o shank Hyne ower the birks, the kirk bell's clapper tongue Clangs. In the larick squirrels showd the boughs The sun spreids meltin gowd ower puils o Dee The ivy furls the aik in emerant towes Wee trootlins brakk the portal o their hame Breenge up, gowp air, takk fleg, syne splyter back A saftsome breeze sets ilkie jinkin leaf A-jiggin ower a hurcheon's jobby back Twa creashie grumphies in a ferm neuk Lie laired, twa tubs o lard wi sappy snoots At the glen tap, sun bathin in the yird Frae deep inbye the wid, a hoolet hoots July's the month fan man an breet may sup The hinney frae the Simmer's crucible The harebell hings abune her dweeble stem Blue as the Heivens afore Auld Clootie fell. 5.At Arbuthnott Kikyaird St Ternan's kirk stauns dour In the reid stoor o the Mearns Fifteen hunner years without a flittin Surviving reformation, lowes, the antrin extension Raxxin its dimensions, or teemin the stoup That held the haly watter The kist o Hugh Le Blond hauds the banes 0 a cuckoo corp..the perk's o being a son 0 a belted laird. A kist o fussles, like Pan's Pipes swalled Tae the heicht o a muckle waa Pynts tae the kirk reef, a heeze o moosewabs Ootbye a brock's howked oot his beeriet hoose Blaik an fite, as clean-cut's Guid an Ill Nae hauf wye meisurs fur yer Protestant. Ower the dyke, the corn growes fat fur hairstin Rattlin in the breeze like rosaries The merkers ower the mools are a dominie's register Naethin byordnar, barrin a muckle buik Dowped in a neuk, bearin the name o the Mearns's Famous screiver, weel laired fur his Sunset Sang Preenin him doon aneth the wecht o his fame Yet still, his wirds jink aff the typeset Firey's the nettle hidden in the sheugh Haudin a reid stang in its green leaves That's warm bit stings betimes. 6.Dugs on the Cat Wauk Press Report: Feb 25th 2008: German& Belgian Police dogs in Dusseldorf are getting blue plastic fibre shoes to protect their paws from broken bottles near pubs Hae ye heard the news o the Dusseldorf dugs? They're getting braw new plastic sheen They'll think that they're waukin on Persian rugs As they sniff roon each German shabeen The dugs at Auld Rayne'll be wintin the same Wellies mebbe, or strang hikin buits While Yorkies an Wasties'll bauchle in safties Fin they're oot stravaigin the streets In the Champs Elysee, poodles perfumed an gay Will be hyterin aboot on stilettos Frae ahin they will luik as they corner each neuk Like candyfloss on fower cornettos In ikie pooch parlour frae Cairo tae Cannes Fowk are busy designin new trainers Fur dugs great 'n' sma. Gin their prostate's awa There'll be holes in the soles for pee-strainers 7.Croc Shock Press Report: 26th June 2008- Drinkers in the Australian out-back invite crocodile into their watering hole A pub fu o lads feelin boozy In Australia's oot-back, nane ower choosy Took a croc in the bar, cryin `Gie her a jar She's got winnerfu teeth fur a floozy! ' 8.Penguin on Parade: Tune: Jock McGraw, the Stootest Man in the Forty Twa Press Report: 23/8/2008- Nils Olav, a three foot high penguin from Edinburgh Zoo, was knighted on behalf of King Harald V of Norway, and adopted as the official mascot of his Royal guard. A penguin bides in the Embro Zoo His heid is black bit his bluid is blue For the king o Norroway quo ae day makk him a knight an a mascot tae.' Nils Olav wis thon penguin's name Bit noo he's a Sir in the haas o fame He's the Colonel in Chief o King Harald's guard Touched on the shooders bi the Royal sword A fanfare played as he waddled oot Tae inspect the troops frae hat tae boot Bit at three fit high Nils anely saw The sodjers belts an their buckles braw Fin Norroway's sodjers tae Embro come Tae jyne the tattoo wi pipe an drum Nils Olav's hairt it'll swall wi pride The best-kent knight on Morningside 9.Tae a Bag o Floor Wee sonsie bag o hale-meal floor The sicht o ye makks me feel dour Tho I am telt ye are the cure Fur constipation Redemption's in yer gritty stoor Tae save the nation White floor, that millers eesed tae yield In hefty bannocks aince concealed The carbohydrates that congealed In rock hard faeces Till double chins an kytes revealed Ower muckle pieces Sic is the fate o modern man That aa maun hae a diet plan An bide awa frae scone an flan Pie tart an cake An stick tae hale-meal broon an blan For oor hairts' sake Sune, ilkie meal tae pass yer mou Wad be mair fittit fur a coo Wi roughage in't tae gar ye chew Strang teeth, nae savour White floor is a mirage that noo Is ooto favour 10.Boars Galore Press Report: June 1 g 2008. Berliners are being pestered by boars rooting up their gardens. One broke a man's leg when it entered his living room and he tried to shoo it out with a broom. In Berlin fowk are pestered by boars Finiver they step oot their doors Ane, attacked bi a broom, in a chiel's livin room Tuik nae tent as it chawed his hors d'oeuvres 11.A Dram At a kistin, a waddin, new face in a pram Ye'll hear aa the faither's cry 'Let's hae a dram! ' Is't ower caul? Is't ower hett? Is the gaffer a bam? The remeid niver alters...it's 'Let's hae a dram' Yon stunner ye beddit wis mutton, nae lamb Fa's wyte wis't yer speirin? Fit else, bit the dram! 12.Horny-Gollach The horny-gollach disna ken Fit side his breid is buttered Because it skites oot frae his claws Syne baith o them are gutted. 13.Ooto the Cauldron I gie ye Angus Calder Son o Lord Ritchie-Calder o Balmashannar 0 the Royal Burgh o Forfar (An honorary citizen o Jerusalem) Raise a dram tae this Angus, (Champion o heidbangers, keelies, Tinks, nutters, ootlinns, orrals) This kenspeckle Angus Fa waukit in Waikato Killed time bringin sodjers tae life (reid poppies in prose) Blitzed umpteen myths frae the watter Brocht Horace tae Tollcross (A terrible dearth o olives, the poet said Settlin fur pickelt ingins in a chippie) There's a wheen mair stumps tae his wicket: This faist bowler o poetry This explorer o Rooshun fiction (Pushkin tae Chekov) This Angus, fa re-acquantit Scotland wi the randy Deevilick-bardie Byron (Radical or Dandy) In the auncient bulks o the wab, This Angus is said tae cairry the bluid o Fortun Ortiz Calderon, still-born an dowped In a cauldron, till his greets let aabody ken He wisna fur bylin. Likewise, the Norman Knight, Hugo de Cadella, Rins in his femoral artery An wi'oot twa wirds o a lee This Angus cam doon frae the Cawdor Thanes o Nairn. There is likewise a queer auld bodach, a tinker-fiddler Ayont the wids o Birse...we'll let thon flee stick tae the waa Sae raise yer glaiss tae this Calder, This poet o roch clear water Wi the toast o the queen's ain Heilanders: Cabar Feidh Gu Math: The deer's horns forever! 14.Angus Calder, Embro's Bard: tune Maggie Lauder Born wi Scotland in his veins (his faither cam frae Forfar) Tae Cambridge, gaed, tae learn his trade, A scholar and a screiver He kept alive 'The Peoples' War' The Empire an its Culture He weirs the poet's laurel wreath His name is Angus Calder The wark o mony's an eident Scot He edited an gaithered On Scott, MacDiarmid, Byron, Burns He pondered ower an blethered Gin ye stroll doon auld Embro toon Ye cud dae war nor daunder Inby a bar tae tak a jar An news wi Angus Calder Some can screive o history In boredom's thoomb screws squeeze us Whilst ithers threip on endlessly Aboot some stoory thesis Bit gin ye seek a lichtsome claik On Barbie, theres nae baulder Or tales o Winkie, best o doos I gie ye Angus Calder Gin fowk war cups tae quench yer drooth Some wad be flat as watter An ithers be as wersh an soor As swyte frae Nero's oxter For wit an lear, baith douce an clear A malt o rarest order For hame an haa, a man for aa His name is Angus Calder 15.Traffic Jam Fit's adee? Fit's adee? This bus hisna moved since hauf past three! There's a taxi o quines in ballet frocks There's a steer o fishermen up fae the docks There's a pipe band marchin, twenty loons Wi a drummer in leopard skins duntin the tunes There's seagulls skreichin ower the melee Far is the haud up? Fit's adee?