Ken Whut Mum by Scott Martin
Ken whut, Mum, eh nearly died the day.
Anither twa inches, that's a', and the bullet
Would hae been for me.
Somebody else got it, though.
A new boy, eighteen years young,
Ha...Ken Whut Mum by Scott Martin
Ken whut, Mum, eh nearly died the day.
Anither twa inches, that's a', and the bullet
Would hae been for me.
Somebody else got it, though.
A new boy, eighteen years young,
Hardly auld enough tae stand in a pub,
But man enough tae cerry thir gun.
Ken whut, Mum, eh thoct o'you the day.
That time, when eh wis eight,
An'sick in yir bed. An'you came hame,
Fae yir work in the Overgate,
An'you washed an' fed is, and left again.
That wis yir break. Some break,eh?
Sae lang ago now, no' even a footnote
In history, jist a fragment o' a memory
O'a different day, different fae this ane.
Eh'm sorry that eh didna dae better
At the skail. Eh should hae stuck in, eh?
Punted oot at fifteen, the polis
Forever at the door, whut a bloody tearaway
Eh wis. Eh jist wanted tae say
Sorry, and if eh git oota this,
Eh'll really dae meh best, yes
Ye dinna hae tae worry
Aboot me anymair, Fur eh swear
Eh'll nivir be a pest again.
Well, it's no self pity, but
Whut chance did we hae?
Beaten before we hud even begun
Late starters on this road o' life,
Like the weedy wee laddie at the skail sports,
Wha nivir wis chosen tae run.
Ken whut, Mum, the day,
Mibbe eh ken how ye felt,
Cus eh held that soul in meh arms,
An eh didna ken whut tae say
Tae mak the pain go awa.
So eh said nothin, jist wept wi shame
For the stupidity o' it a'.
An' they took him, somebody's son,
Wha hud died in the company o' strangers,
Far awa fae hame, an' no even kennin
Whut it wus, that he'd done wrang.
Ken whut, Mum, fur a' that's said and done,
Eh'm peyin the price now fur meh wrangs,
Yir silly, delinquent son.
An' when it's a' forgotten, even if it's lost or won,
Or when the politicians find somethin new-
An' this is between me and you-
Ken whut, it's you eh'll love,
Forever and ever, amen,
Eh'll always be jist yer son,
For eh wish that eh wis hame now,
Hearin the rattle o' cutlery
Fae the scullery, an'yir scratchy records playin,
An seein the green hills o' Fife,
Far awa, ower the Tay.
from http://www.ploughmanpoemforscotland.co.uk/index.ht...
Modify message
Lament for a little Budgie-a true story by Marion....
I had a little budgie
I was teaching him to speak
Until one day I noticed
A small lump upon his beak.
The lump became quite scaly
and bigger still it g...Lament for a little Budgie-a true story by Marion....
I had a little budgie
I was teaching him to speak
Until one day I noticed
A small lump upon his beak.
The lump became quite scaly
and bigger still it grew
And so I took it to the Vet
To see what he could do.
''Hmmmm.''he said.And''Hmmmm'' again.
''this is a cancer scare
I'll have to take it off''he said
''That lump cannot stay there.''
''I can't use anaesthetic
On such a tiny bird,
I'll put him out with ether,
That works,or so I've heard.''
And so tenderly I stroked
my little budgie's brow
''Don't worry little fellow,
Just go to sleep for now.''
And soon the ether took effect
The little eyes then closed.
The vet then took his torch to burn
The lump from off his nose.
There was a great almighty ''BANG''
It was heard all over town.
My little budgie disappeared
And a wee feather floated down.
''O dear,that didn't work that time.''
The vet explained to me.
and then he handed me his bill.
Sixty-three dollars
plus G.S.T.
As promised (threatened?) the rest of the story!
Albert's Return
by Marriott Edgar
You've 'eard 'ow young Albert Ramsbottom
At the zoo up at Blackpool one year
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle
Gave...As promised (threatened?) the rest of the story!
Albert's Return
by Marriott Edgar
You've 'eard 'ow young Albert Ramsbottom
At the zoo up at Blackpool one year
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle
Gave a lion a poke in the ear?
The name of the lion was Wallace,
The poke in the ear made 'im wild
And before you could say, "Bob's yer uncle!"
E'd upped and 'e'd swallowed the child.
'E were sorry the moment 'e done it;
With children 'e'd always been chums,
And besides, 'e'd no teeth in his muzzle,
And 'e couldn't chew Albert on't gums.
'E could feel the lad movin' inside 'im
As 'e lay on 'is bed of dried ferns;
And it might 'ave been little lad's birthday-
'E wished 'im such 'appy returns.
But Albert kept kickin' and fightin'...
And Wallace got up, feelin' bad.
Decided 'twere time that 'e started
To stage a comeback for the lad.
Then puttin' 'ead down in one corner,
On 'is front paws 'e started to walk;
And 'e coughed, and 'e sneezed, and 'e gargled
'Till Albert shot out... like a cork!
Now Wallace felt better directly
And 'is figure once more became lean.
But the only difference with Albert
Was 'is face and 'is 'ands were quite clean.
Meanwhile Mr. and Mrs. Ramsbottom
'Ad gone back to their tea, feelin' blue.
Ma said, "I feel down in the mouth, like.
" Pa said, "Aye, I bet Albert does, too."
Said Mother, "It just goes to show yer
That the future is never revealed;
If I'd thowt we was goin' to lose 'im,
I'd 'ave not 'ad 'is boots soled and 'eeled."
"Let's look on the bright side," said Father,
"Wot can't be 'elped must be endured;
Each cloud 'as a silvery lining,
And we did 'ave young Albert insured."
A knock on the door came that moment
As Father these kind words did speak.
'Twas the man from Prudential - 'e'd come for
Their tuppence per person per week.
When Father saw 'oo 'ad been knockin',
'E laughed, and 'e kept laughin' so -
The man said, "'Ere, wot's there to laugh at?"
Pa said, "You'll laugh an' all when you know!"
"Excuse 'im for laughing," said Mother,
"But really, things 'appen so strange
Our Albert's been et by a lion;
You've got to pay us for a change!"
Said the young man from the Prudential,
"Now, come, come, let's understand this...
You don't mean to say that you've lost 'im?"
Pa said, "Oh, no, we know where 'e is!"
When the young man 'ad 'eard all the details,
A purse from 'is pocket he drew
And 'e paid them with interest and bonus
The sum of nine pounds, four and two.
Pa 'ad scarce got 'is 'and on the money
When a face at the window they see
And Mother cried, "Eee, look, it's Albert!"
And Father said, "Aye, it would be."
Albert came in all excited,
And started 'is story to give;
And Pa said, "I'll never trust lions
Again, not as long as I live."
The young man from the Prudential
To pick up the money began
But Father said, "'ere, wait a moment,
Don't be in a 'urry, young man."
Then giving young Albert a shilling,
'E said, "'Ere, pop off back to the zoo;
Get your stick with the 'orse's 'ead 'andle...
Go and see wot the tigers can do!"
The Highland Clearance
by Frank McNie
The rain that makes our Highlands green
tears from broken hearts
torn from life that's always been
forced to foreign parts
the highland soul from homeland wrenched
blind...The Highland Clearance
by Frank McNie
The rain that makes our Highlands green
tears from broken hearts
torn from life that's always been
forced to foreign parts
the highland soul from homeland wrenched
blind loyalty betrayed
the thirst for money must be quenched
decency forbade
of what importance a family's home
that stands in rich man's way
when he needs the fields for sheep to roam
and his tenants cannot pay
forsaken is the chieftains pledge
to hold his clansmen true
force them to the waters edge
to a life they never knew
no matter that they starve and die
improvements are a must
money, London fashions buy
and sheep can fill that lust
that rain that makes our Highlands green
cant wash away their sins
they'll pay the price when it is seen
murderous origins
damn them for their interference
the misery and pain
those architects of highland clearance
whose families still remain
their dynasties still rule the lands
with arrogant impunity
lets show the blood that's on their hands
and cancel all immunity.
Another by David Thomson, this about the results of the Clearances...
RURAL DEPOPULATIONS.
GREAT changes come wi' passing years,
As noo in many a place appears,
If Scotland roon we scan ;
For whaur ance dw...Another by David Thomson, this about the results of the Clearances...
RURAL DEPOPULATIONS.
GREAT changes come wi' passing years,
As noo in many a place appears,
If Scotland roon we scan ;
For whaur ance dwelt a hardy race,
Is noo a' wild, an' made a place,
For deer instead o' man.
Great tracks o' laun' can noo be seen,
Whaur crofters ance dwelt snug an' bien,
A' clad wi' bent an' heather ;
An' here an' there, a nowt or sheep,
A muircock, plover, or peesweep,
Whaur folk in bauns did gather.
The places whaur their hooses stood.
The crofts whaur com wav'd rank an' guid.
Can hardly noo be trac'd ;
An' whaur a' ance look'd blythe an' fair.
Is noo wild, barren, bleak, and bare,
A solitary waste.
What sin an' shame that laun' sae good,
That lots o' wark, an' walth o' food,
Tae man an' beast wad yield ;
Shou'd be allow'd tae lie a waiste,
Tae suit some selfish noble's taste,
O' bein' a huntin' field.
But nobles yet may sairly rue.
That crofters on their launs are few,
An' may yet come to ken
That grouse an' deer can ne'er oppose.
Nor staun' against invading foes,
Sae firm as hardy men. '
The rounded hills of the Scottish Borders are carved by numerous rivers and streams which meander through the area, contibuting to the character of the land - and its people. This poem by J B Selkirk,...The rounded hills of the Scottish Borders are carved by numerous rivers and streams which meander through the area, contibuting to the character of the land - and its people. This poem by J B Selkirk, sings the praises of these meandering burns (a burn is the Scots word for a stream). It is noticeable that, like the running water, the poem is not broken up in any way into verses but flows continuously from start to finish. Indeed, the middle section is somewhat breathless as it runs on without any full stops!
A Border Burn
Ah, Tam! gie me a Border burn
That canna rin without a turn,
And wi' its bonnie babble fills
The glens amang oor native hills.
How men that ance have kend aboot it
Can leeve their after lives withoot it,
I canna tell, for day and nicht
It comes unca'd-for to my sicht.
I see 't this moment, plain as day,
As it comes bickerin' owre the brae,
Atween the clumps o' purple heather,
Glistenin' in the summer weather,
Syne divin in below the grun,
Where, hidden frae the sicht and sun,
It gibbers like a deid man's ghost
That clamours for the licht it's lost,
Till oot again the loupin' limmer
Comes dancin doon through shine and shimmer
At headlang pace, till wi' a jaw
It jumps the rocky waterfa',
And cuts sic cantrips in the air,
The picture-pentin man's despair;
A rountree bus oot owre the tap o 't,
A glassy pule to kep the lap o 't,
While on the brink the blue harebell
Keeks owre to see its bonnie sel,
And sittin chirpin a its lane
A water-waggy on a stane.
Ay, penter lad, thraw to the wund
Your canvas, this is holy ground:
Wi' a its highest airt acheevin,
The picter's deed, and this is leevin.
Meaning of unusual words:
kend=knew
bickerin owre the brae=moving quickly and noisily over the hill
Syne=since
loupin' limmer=leaping rascal
cantrips=frolic, witch's spell
rountree bus oot=rowan tree (mountain ash) pushing out
harebell=Scottish bluebell
Keeks=peeps
water-waggy=wagtail (a variety of bird)
From Musings Among the Heather: Being Poems Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect (1881)
LOCH LOMOND. by David Thomson 1806 - 1870
In summer, when sweet nature smiles,
Around the waters blue,
Of Scotland's...From Musings Among the Heather: Being Poems Chiefly in the Scottish Dialect (1881)
LOCH LOMOND. by David Thomson 1806 - 1870
In summer, when sweet nature smiles,
Around the waters blue,
Of Scotland's lake of many isles,
How lovely is the view !
Upon her placid azure breast,
Her island gems are spread;
While deep their shadows calmly rest.
Within their wat'ry bed.
0, how magnificent the sight,
How wildly grand the scene !
Hills, glens, and rocks, in shade and Ught,
Still lake, and sky serene.
Here rugged grandeur is combined
With beauty soft and fair,
In one vast scene so nice defined,
That it could nothing spare.
Rich, waving woods, of varied green,
Around on every side,
And fields in flow'ry robes are seen
Reflected in the tide.
Stupendous mountains, capp'd with snow.
Their heads fling to the sky ;
While sparkling waters down below,
Steep'd in bright sunbeams lie.
And all around, streams, cool and clear,
Rush from their mountain home,
0*er shelving rocks, in wild career,
In one bright sheet of foam.
O, queen of lakes ! that mountains guard,
And high above you frown.
Your beauty brings you sweet regard,
Your grandeur great renown.
Modify message
It is easy to picture a Scots mother wagging the finger at her grown-up son and giving him a lecture when he comes back home, the worse for a wee drink (or two or three) in the days when mothers perha...It is easy to picture a Scots mother wagging the finger at her grown-up son and giving him a lecture when he comes back home, the worse for a wee drink (or two or three) in the days when mothers perhaps had more influence over the actions of their offspring than they do today! This poem is by Charles Nicol (1858-?) who often wrote light-hearted verses about every-day incidents.
A Mither's Lecture Tae Her Ne'er-dae-weel Son
Ye thochtless tyke, what time o" nicht
Is this for tae come hame?
Whan ither decent fouk's in bed -
Oh! div ye no think shame?
But shame's no in ye, that I ken,
Ye drucken ne'er-dae-weel!
You've mair thocht for the dram-shop there -
Aye, that ye hae, atweel!
Ye drucken loon, come tell me quick
Whaur hae ye been, ava?
I'm shair it's waefu' that frae drink
Ye canna keep awa.
An' bidin' tae sic 'oors as this,
When you should be in bed;
I doot there's something in this wark;
Come, tell the truth noo, Ted?
Can ye no speak? What's wrang wi' ye?
Ye good-for-naething loon,
Yer gettin' juist a fair disgrace,
An' that ye'll be gey soon.
Noo, dinna stan' there like a mute -
The truth I want tae ken,
Sae tell me noo the truth for aince,
It's nae too late tae men'.
You've been wi' twa-three bosom freens
At Bob Broon's birthday spree;
Aweel, aweel, if that's the case,
You this time I'll forgie.
But mind, sic wark as this, my man,
Will never, never dae;
Ye maun gie up that waefu' drink,
Aye, frae this very day!
Meaning of unusual words:
tyke=dog
div=do
ken=know
drucken=drunken
loon=boy
ava=at all
gey=very
maun=must
waefu'=woeful
Marriott Edgar
was born in Scotland in 1880 and died in London on May 5th, 1951.
He worked with Stanley Holloway as writer and performer and wrote
many of the monologues that made Holloway famous.
The Lio...Marriott Edgar
was born in Scotland in 1880 and died in London on May 5th, 1951.
He worked with Stanley Holloway as writer and performer and wrote
many of the monologues that made Holloway famous.
The Lion And Albert
by Marriott Edgar
There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.
A grand little lad was young Albert
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.
They didn't think much to the Ocean
The waves, they were fiddlin' and small
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded
Fact, nothing to laugh at, at all.
So, seeking for further amusement
They paid and went into the zoo
Where they'd lions and tigers and camels
And old ale and sandwiches too.
There were one great big lion called Wallace
His nose were all covered with scars
He lay in a somnolent posture
With the side of his face on the bars.
Now Albert had heard about lions
How they was ferocious and wild
To see Wallace lying so peaceful
Well, it didn't seem right to the child.
So straight 'way the brave little feller
Not showing a morsel of fear
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And shoved it in Wallace's ear.
You could see the lion didn't like it
For giving a kind of a roll
He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im
And swallowed the little lad 'ole
Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence
And didn't know what to do next
Said "Mother! Yon lions 'et Albert"
And Mother said "Well, I am vexed!"
Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Quite rightly, when all's said and done
Complained to the Animal Keeper
That the lion had eaten their son.
The keeper was quite nice about it
He said "What a nasty mishap
Are you sure it's your boy he's eaten?"
Pa said "Am I sure? There's his cap!"
The manager had to be sent for
He came and he said "What's to do?"
Pa said "Yon lion's 'et Albert
And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too."
Then Mother said, "Right's right, young feller
I think it's a shame and a sin
For a lion to go and eat Albert
And after we've paid to come in."
The manager wanted no trouble
He took out his purse right away
Saying "How much to settle the matter?"
And Pa said "What do you usually pay?"
But Mother had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone
She said "No! someone's got to be summonsed"
So that was decided upon.
Then off they went to the Police Station
In front of the Magistrate chap
They told 'im what happened to Albert
And proved it by showing his cap.
The Magistrate gave his opinion
That no one was really to blame
And he said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms
Would have further sons to their name.
At that Mother got proper blazing
"And thank you, sir, kindly," said she
"What waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy lions? Not me!"
Come back tommorrow for the rest of the story! Stu
"In the Highlands..."
From Songs of Travel
In the highlands, in the country places,
Where the old plain men have rosy faces,
And the young fair maidens
Quiet eyes;
Where essential silence cheers and blesse..."In the Highlands..."
From Songs of Travel
In the highlands, in the country places,
Where the old plain men have rosy faces,
And the young fair maidens
Quiet eyes;
Where essential silence cheers and blesses,
And for ever in the hill-recesses
Her more lovely music
Broods and dies.
O to mount again where erst I haunted;
Where the old red hills are bird-enchanted,
And the low green meadows
Bright with sward;
And when even dies, the million-tinted,
And the night has come, and planets glinted,
Lo, the valley hollow,
Lamp-bestarred!
O to dream, O to awake and wander
There, and with delight to take and render,
Through the trance of silence,
Quiet breath;
Lo! for there, among the flowers and grasses,
Only the mightier movement sounds and passes;
Only winds and rivers,
Life and death.
page=6&callback_module_id=pages&callback_item_id=421&year=&month=
View More
Marilyn Sloper likes this.
