Scottish Poetry

[Cù Dubh]

kidspoem / bairnsang
Liz Lochhead

it wis January
and a gey dreich day
the first day Ah went to the school
so my Mum happed me up in ma
good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood
birled a scarf aroon ma neck
pu?ed oan ma pixie an? my pawkies
it wis that bitter
said noo ye?ll no starve
gie?d me a wee kiss and a kid-oan skelp oan the bum
and sent me aff across the playground
tae the place Ah?d learn to say
it was January
and a really dismal day
the first day I went to school
so my mother wrapped me up in my
best navy-blue top coat with the red tartan hood,
twirled a scarf around my neck,
pulled on my bobble-hat and mittens
it was so bittterly cold
said now you won?t freeze to death
gave me a little kiss and a pretend slap on the bottom
and sent me off across the playground
to the place I?d learn to forget to say
it wis January
and a gey dreich day
the first day Ah went to the school
so my Mum happed me up in my
good navy-blue napp coat wi the rid tartan hood,
birled a scarf aroon ma neck,
pu?ed oan ma pixie an? my pawkies
it wis that bitter.

Oh saying it was one thing
but when it came to writing it
in black and white
the way it had to be said
was as if you were posh, grown-up, male, English and dead.

[Cù Dubh]

'The 6 O'Clock News'

Tom Leonard

this is thi
six a clock
news thi
man said n
thi reason
a talk wia
BBC accent
iz coz yi
widny wahnt
mi ti talk
aboot thi
trooth wia
voice lik
wanna yoo
scruff. if
a toktaboot
thi trooth
lik wanna yoo
scruff yi
widny thingk
it wuz troo.
jist wanna yoo
scruff tokn.
thirza right
way ti spell
ana right way
to tok it. this
is me tokn yir
right way a
spellin. this
is ma trooth.
yooz doant no
thi trooth
yirsellz cawz
yi canny talk
right. this is
the six a clock
nyooz. belt up.

[Cù Dubh]

in the beginning was the word

Tom Leonard

in the beginning was the word
in thi beginning was thi wurd
in thi beginnin was thi wurd
in thi biginnin wuz thi wurd
n thi biginnin wuz thi wurd
nthi biginnin wuzthi wurd
nthibiginnin wuzthiwurd
nthibiginninwuzthiwurd
in the beginning was the sound

[Cù Dubh]

A short History of the British Judiciary

Tom Leonard

And their judges spoke with one dialect
but the condemned spoke with many voices.
And the prisons were full of many voices,
but never the dialect of the judges.
And the judges said,
"No-one is above the Law."

[Cù Dubh]

THE GOOD THIEF

Tom Leonard

heh jimmy
yawright ih
stull wayiz urryi
ih

heh jimmy
ma right insane yirra pape
ma right insane yirwanny us jimmy
see it nyir eyes
wanny uz

heh

heh jimmy
lookslik wirgonny miss thi gemm
gonny miss thi GEMM jimmy
nearly three a cloke thinoo

dork init
good jobe theyve gote the lights

[Cù Dubh]

J. M. Caie

The Puddock

A Puddock sat by the lochan's brim,
An' he thocht there was never a puddock like him.
He sat on his hurdies, he waggled his legs,
An' cockit his heid as he glowered throu' the seggs
The bigsy wee cratur' was feelin' that prood,
He gapit his mou' an' he croakit oot lood
"Gin ye'd a' like tae see a richt puddock," quo' he,
" Ye'll never, I'll sweer, get a better nor me.
I've fem'lies an' wives an' a weel-plenished hame,
Wi' drink for my thrapple an' meat for my wame.
The lasses aye thocht me a fine strappin' chiel,
An' I ken I'm a rale bonny singer as weel.
I'm nae gaun tae blaw, but the truth I maun tell-
I believe I'm the verra MacPuddock himsel'."
A heron was hungry an' needin' tae sup,
Sae he nabbit th' puddock and gollup't him up;
Syne 'runkled his feathers: "A peer thing," quo' he,
"But-puddocks is nae as fat as they eesed tae be."

[Cù Dubh]

Urn Burial

George Bruce

It wis hardly worth peyin for
a casket
the body wis that peely-wally.

nae bluid in't
lukit like a
scrap o' broun paper
papyrus mebbe?
nae gran eneuch
for that.

but there wis some gran mourners, the
Editor o' the Scottish National Dictionary,
Heid o' the Depairment o' Scot. Lit.,
President o' the Burns Federation,
President o' the Lallans Society,
President o' the Saltaire Society,
a' present in strict alphabetical order
an'
ane/twa orra Scot. Nats.

Syne cam a fuff o' win'
an' liftit it oot o' the bowlie
ahn' hine awa,

a wee bird sang

Dew dreep'd
on the beld heids
o' the auld men
stude gloweran
at the tuim tomb.

"She's jinkit again,
the b*tch!"
said the man wi' the spade.

[CelticRoz]

Hey Cu Dubh! These are great! Thanks!

Keep em coming!

[Eiric]

Beautiful!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[Cù Dubh]

Anybody else feel free to post your favourite Scottish poem.

The Boy in the Train

by Mary Campbell Smith

Whit wey does the engine say 'Toot-toot'?
Is it feart to gang in the tunnel?
Whit wey is the furnace no pit oot
When the rain gangs doon the funnel?
What'll I hae for my tea the nicht?
A herrin', or maybe a haddie?
Has Gran'ma gotten electric licht?
Is the next stop Kirkcaddy?

There's a hoodie-craw on yon turnip-raw!
An' seagulls! - sax or seeven.
I'll no fa' oot o' the windae, Maw,
Its sneckit, as sure as I'm leevin'.
We're into the tunnel! we're a' in the dark!
But dinna be frichtit, Daddy,
We'll sune be comin' to Beveridge Park,
And the next stop's Kirkcaddy!

Is yon the mune I see in the sky?
It's awfu' wee an' curly,
See! there's a coo and a cauf ootbye,
An' a lassie pu'in' a hurly!
He's chackit the tickets and gien them back,
Sae gie me my ain yin, Daddy.
Lift doon the bag frae the luggage rack,
For the next stop's Kirkcaddy!

There's a gey wheen boats at the harbour mou',
And eh! dae ya see the cruisers?
The cinnamon drop I was sookin' the noo
Has tummelt an' stuck tae ma troosers. . .
I'll sune be ringin' ma Gran'ma's bell,
She'll cry, 'Come ben, my laddie',
For I ken mysel' by the queer-like smell
That the next stop's Kirkcaddy!

[Cù Dubh]

The Sair Finger

by Walter Wingate

You've hurt your finger? Puir wee man!
Your pinkie? Deary me!
Noo, juist you haud it that wey till
I get my specs and see!

My, so it is - and there's the skelf!
Noo, dinna greet nae mair.
See there - my needle's gotten't out!
I'm sure that wasna sair?

And noo, to make it hale the morn,
Put on a wee bit saw,
And tie a Bonnie hankie roun't
Noo, there na - rin awa'!

Your finger sair ana'? Ye rogue,
You're only lettin' on.
Weel, weel, then - see noo, there ye are,
Row'd up the same as John!

[CelticRoz]

Really great, Cu Dubh! My favorite still is the 6 o'clock news. I love it when it says about talking with the BBC accent.

[Cù Dubh]

Aye tht yin's a belter
I like kidspoem / bairnsang. They way it goes from Scots to Standard English which is the way the wee girl learns to speak at School

[Cù Dubh]

Aboot time wi hid yin fae Rabbie.

Of an Inn at Stirling, on seeing the Royal Palace in ruin.

Robert Burns

Here Stuarts once in glory reigned,
And laws for Scotland's weal ordained;
But now unroof'd their palace stands,
Their sceptre's sway'd by other hands;
Fallen indeed, and to the earth
Whence groveling reptiles take their birth.
The injured Stuart line is gone,
A race outlandish fills their throne;
An idiot race, to honour lost;
Who know them best despise them most.

[Cù Dubh]

Anither yin fae the Bard.

Robert Bruce's March To Bannockburn

Robert Burns

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to Victorie!

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour;
See approach proud Edward's power-
Chains and Slaverie!

Wha will be a traitor knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a Slave?
Let him turn and flee!

Wha, for Scotland's King and Law,
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Free-man stand, or Free-man fa',
Let him on wi' me!

By Oppression's woes and pains!
By your Sons in servile chains!
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud Usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in every foe!
Liberty's in every blow!-
Let us Do or Die!