Eggplant.place

263d

“The Sodgers”, by Alexander Scott (1920–1989)

Alexander Scott landed in Normandy with the Gordon Highlanders, & saw action in the Ardennes & crossing the Rhine. He later became Head of Scottish Literature at the University of Glasgow, & was president of ASL from 1976–79

Published in FROM THE LINE: Scottish War Poetry 1914–1945, ed. David Goldie & Roderick Watson

https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/from_the_line/

#Scottish #literature #Scots #ScotsLanguage #poem #poetry #DDay #WW2 #WarPoetry

The Sodgers
by Alexander Scott

Nae wi the gallus captains
That niver jinkit war
But socht for glory's wildfire lowe
As wise men aince for anither star—

And nae wi the ramstam colonels
That leuch at the din o the drum
And skirled for the bleeze o battle's Inferno
As saunts micht skirl for Kingdom Come—

But aye wi the sweirt sodgers
That niver wished tae dee
And anelie marched the forrart road
Sen onie back they cudna see—

Near blind wi the reek o wappins
And the reek o leean words,
But niver near sae blind wi bluid
As faa in luve wi guns and swords.

ALT

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263d

Ye think thon wes the end?
Yon meetin in the wuids
When Thracian Orpheus heard the drum, the cries,
The whud o the bacchantes’ thrangan feet…

—“Orpheus”, by Tom Scott (1918–1995), born #OTD, 6 June
Published in A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS

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https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #20thcentury #Mythology #GreekMythology

Tom Scott
Orpheus

Ye think thon wes the end?
Yon meetin in the wuids
When Thracian Orpheus heard the drum, the cries,
The whud o the bacchantes’ thrangan feet
And, seik in saul,
Mad to be jyned for aye to his Eurydikee,
Strung his harp
And gaed to meet them wi a sang.
Ye think thon wes the end?

Na. Eftir the thrang breeled on, red
Fingert, bluidie-mawed, the riven limbs
Quiveran aye amang the mairtyred gress,
There wes a lull
And throu it syne a roun
And syne as muckle’s a moan
And syne a voice,
Yon voice o his
That quietit the forest and its fowk,
That reconcilit lion and lamb,
Ordert the rain,
Spoke frae the grund
And threept in the greitan tree
‘Euridikee! Euridikee!’

And at the name
A ferlie thing wes duin.
Thir broken bits o bodie, bits o bane,
Brisket, gash, airm and droukit hair
Cam thegither as gin some will
Mair nor the merely real
Had wrocht on them.
And on yon slauchtert grund was formed
Orpheus anew,
Orpheus the singer, Orpheus the makar,
Orpheus cleansed o the auld despair.
And by the halie tree
In the leaman licht o the wuid,
Squired by a houlet, a hawk and a doo,
Wes his Euridikee.

They say he made a new sang,
A nobler nor the auld,
And sings it aye in the great haa o the warld.

They say it will nevir end.

ALT

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200d

Twa Cats anes on a Cheese did light,
To which baith had an equal Right,
But Disputes, sic as aft arise,
Fell out at sharing of the Prize…

—Allan Ramsay (1686–1758), “The twa Cats & the Cheese”
via the National Library of Scotland
😾😾🧀🐵

An 18th-century Scots poem for International Cat Day

https://digital.nls.uk/special-collections-of-printed-music/archive/105690319

#Scottish #literature #Scots #Scotslanguage #poem #18thcentury #law #legal #humor #humour #InternationalCatDay

The twa Cats and the Cheese
Fable IX
by Allan Ramsay

Twa Cats anes on a Cheese did light,
To which baith had an equal Right,
But Disputes, sic as aft arise,
Fell out at sharing of the Prize;
Fair Play said ane, Ye bite o’er thick
Thae Teeth of yours gang wonder quick:
Let’s part it, else lang or the Moon
Be chang’d, the Kebuck will be done.

ALT

But wha’s to do’t,—They’re Parties baith,
And ane may do the other Skaith,
Sae with Consent away they trudge,
And laid the Cheese before a Judge,
A Monkey with a campsho Face,
Clerk to a Justice of the Peace,
A Judge he seem’d in Justice skill’d,
When he his Master’s Chair fill’d;
Now Umpire chosen for Division,
Baith sware to stand by his Decision.
Demure he looks.—The Cheese he pales,—
He prives it good,—Ca’s for the Scales,
His Knife whops throw’t,—In twa it fell,
He puts ilk Haff in either Shell;
Said he, We’ll truly weigh the Case,
And strickest Justice shall have Place,
Then lifting up the Scales, he fand
The tane bang up, the ither stand;
Syne out he took the heaviest Haff,
And ate a Knoost o’t quickly aff,
And try’d it syne,—It now prov’d light,
Friend Cats, said he, We’ll do ye right.
Then to the ither Haff he fell,
And laid till’t teughly Tooth and Nail,
Till weigh’d again it lightest prov’d:
The Judge wha this sweet Process lov’d,
Still weigh’d the Case, and still ate on,
Till Clients baith were weary grown,

ALT

And tenting how the Matter went,
Cry’d, Come, come Sir, We’re baith content.
Ye Fools, quoth he, and Justice too
Maun be content as well as you.
Thus grumbled they, thus he went on,
Till baith the Haves were near hand done;
Poor Pousies now the Daffine saw
Of gawn for Nignyes to the Law:
And bill’d the Judge that he wad please
To give them the remaining Cheese:
To which his Worship grave reply’d,
The Dues of Court maun first be paid.
Now Justice pleas’d,—What’s to the Fore
Will but right scrimply clear your Score;
That’s our Decreet,—Gae Hame and Sleep,
And thank us ye’re win aff sae cheap.

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256d

Goonie: Poetry Extravaganza with Michael Mullen & Friends
20 June, Lighthouse Books, Edinburgh. £0–£10.99

Exploring queerness through fierce lyrical poetry & celebrating Scotland through vernacular vignettes, GOONIE is Michael Mullen’s debut collection

https://lighthousebookshop.com/events/goonie-poetry-extravaganza-with-michael-mullen-and-friends

#Scottish #literature #poetry #queer #queerness #Scotland #Scots #Scotslanguage

A bumfled rug, dark blue, with a red, yellow, pink, white and green floral pattern. Text:

poetry launch
michael mullen
+ fellow Edwin Morgan Award Winners
friday 20th june
indie bookshop week
poetry extravaganza

Next to the text is a cover image for GOONIE, by Michael Mullen. Looking down at a carpet of the same design, we can see a pair of feet wearing black men's shoes and dark trousers, and a single foot wearing a silver slipper-style woman's shoe and a bright red stocking.

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249d

Frae the broo o’ a brae I saw them gang,
I saw them hirple to a lanesome shore.
I saw them pass abune the ferly seals
Withouten keel and sail and oar…

—William Jeffrey, “The Refugees”
Published in A KIST O SKINKLAN THINGS (ASL, 2017)

20 June is World Refugee Day

https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #WorldRefugeeDay #refugees #humanrights

William Jeffrey
The Refugees

‘Arise and flee into Egypt’

‘There’s a carline walkin’ the road ootby,
A body wi’ hair o’ the streekit snaw,
And an auld man daunders at her side,
A chiel that’s laggie and bent in twa.’

‘They maun be folk frae a fremit toun.
Bid them come in and bide a wee.’
Sae the carline and the auld man came
And supp’d guid brose anent the swee.

I speer’d the taen, and I speer’d the tither,
And scant the answer did I get—
But O, the licht in their eldren e’en
Shone frae some gouden unkenned yett.

Quo’ the carline frail, ‘There’s hame nae mair
In kintras raxt on the crookit sword’;
But the bodach murmured, ‘Nay, there’s hame
Where folks are free wi’ the kindly word.

‘Natheless,’ quo’ she, ‘gang west, my son,
Westlins to isles o’ Bride and the sea.’
Syne they rose and quaitlike went frae the door
And steppit west by the flowery lea.

Frae the broo o’ a brae I saw them gang,
I saw them hirple to a lanesome shore.
I saw them pass abune the ferly seals
Withouten keel and sail and oar.

I saw them gang in a siller glore,
Walkin’ the sea in’ a calm sae still—
The braid eard faulded like a rose
And Bethlehem gloss’d an island hill.

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224d

I can see da rüfs aa taekit, an da hens aroond da door;
Fok kerryin twartree paets hame, an rigs delled every voar.
Aa da lums ir reekin, an I hear da happy soonds
O peerie bairns skirlin, as dey play dem ower da toons…

—“Da Clearance”, by Rhoda Bulter (1929–94), born #OTD, 15 July

A 🎂🧵 – 1/3

Listen to Rhoda Bulter reading “Da Clearance” here

https://www.shetlanddialect.org.uk/da-clearance

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #Shetland #Shetlandic

Da Clearance
Rhoda Bulter

I can see da rüfs aa taekit, an da hens aroond da door;
Fok kerryin twartree paets hame, an rigs delled every voar.
Aa da lums ir reekin, an I hear da happy soonds
O peerie bairns skirlin, as dey play dem ower da toons.

I see eens sittin roond da fire, an twartree mair oot by;
Sookin infants at da breest, an weemen gjaan ta cry.
Da tochtfil, tried faces o dem at’s lived ower lang;
Fractious bairns feytin sleep, an sensin somethin wrang.

I hear a lood, lood knockin, an da crump o monny feet;
Men's voices raised in anger, an da bairns start to greet.
I see da fok aa girded oot afore da laandloard’s men;
An aa da bits a things dey hed, fired ower da briggy-stane.

I see da bare waas staandin, an aa da laand lie green;
Lang syne da fire wis slokkit, an monny a year is geen.
Noo dey aa hae equal portions o aert ta tak dir sleep.
Tell me, wis it wirt it aa for twartree extry sheep?

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246d

Schyr Hanry myssit the noble king…

Robert I, King of Scots, killed Sir Henry de Bohun in single combat on the first day of the Battle of Bannockburn #OTD, 23 June 1314. The epic vernacular poem “The Brus” by John Barbour (c.1320–1395) describes the event

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https://www.gla.ac.uk/schools/critical/aboutus/resources/stella/projects/starn/poetry/the-brus/book-12/

#Scottish #literature #poetry #medieval #14thcentury #history #MiddleAges #Bannockburn #epic #vernacular #poem #Scots #Scotslanguage

Text is too long for ALT-text – however full text can be found via the link, lines 25 to 85.

Image description: “Bruce and de Bohun”, by John Duncan (1866–1945), Stirling Smith Art Gallery and Museum. King Robert I, wearing chain mail, with a gold circlet around his helmet, and a flowing red-gold cloak and a surcoat bearing the Scottish lion rampant (red, on a yellow background) , stands up in the stirrups of the grey horse he is riding. He holds the reins tightly in his left hand and wields a battle-axe in his right. Sir Henry de Bohun, with golden plate armour and a flowing red cloth tied to his helm, rides past, his long lance missing the king. He is crouched low, almost seeming to bow, his head lined up for the blow from the king's axe.

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220d

She’s goat her legs oot –
her foldin plastic chair
oan the gress at Glesga Green –
an her airms an enough
creamy dimpled bosom
tae please Renoir…

—Sheila Templeton, “Glesga Fair”
published in Songs of Other Places: New Writing Scotland 32 (ASL, 2014)

Happy Fair Weekend to all the Glasgow Fairies!

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #Glasgow #GlasgowFair

Glesga Fair
Sheila Templeton

She’s goat her legs oot –
her foldin plastic chair
oan the gress at Glesga Green –
an her airms an enough
creamy dimpled bosom
tae please Renoir;
bra straps oan show,
frock lirkit richt up
ower her knees
sittin lik a mannie
legs weel splayed as if
tae accommodate
magnificent baws –
but it’s no that.
It’s tae mak room
mak a space
for her belly,
lovely big roon
wumman’s belly
growthie in the sun.

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223d

Literary translation as a linguistic survival strategy | John Corbett

Technology can threaten minority languages such as Scots & Nuosu. Prof Corbett argues that literary translation can, among other things, support minority languages & sustain traditional cultures.

This talk was given at a TEDx event using the TED conference format but independently organized by a local community.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jF7nS6_C_KE

#Scottish #literature #translation #Scots #Scotslanguage #minoritylanguages

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244d

Der a ön o haet ida gairden here,
Whaar da sun-flooer proodly staands,
An dark-red roses trowe da green
Laek da lowe fae fiery braands…

—T.A. Robertson (“Vagaland”), “Haem Tochts”
published in The Collected Poems of Vagaland (Shetland Times, 1975)

https://www.scottishpoetrylibrary.org.uk/poem/haem-tochts/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #Shetland #Shetlandic

Poem is too long for ALT-text: full text available via link in the post.

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218d

Happy Glasgow Fair Monday!

“…on one occasion the Highland Queen was berthed by the master and a boy, the rest of the crew being quite incapable…”

Steamships, “steaming”, drunkenness & “smùid” – Donald Meek on going doon the watter, & early Scottish booze-cruising

https://meekwrite.blogspot.com/2013/04/maritime-and-linguistic-studies.html

#Scottish #Scotland #Scots #Scotslanguage #Gaelic #Gaidhlig #steaming #GlasgowFair #FairMonday #culturalstudies #19thcentury #20thcentury #alcohol #steamboat

A late 19th-century postcard. The printed text reads:

Mottoes for those going
“Doon the Watter”

If it's losing the boat,
or losing your drink—
lose the boat.

The image shows a colour illustration of a moustachio'd young man, standing at a bar, wearing a boater hat at a rakish angle, a dark green jacket, a yellow-and-white striped waistcoat and a red bow tie. He has one hand in his pocket as he looks over his shoulder, out of the door of the bar to see, in the distance, a steamship leaving the harbour. He raises a full pint mug to toast its departure.

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240d

Oh ye, wha in your oors o ease, ‍‍
‍‍Are fashed wi golochs, mauks, an flees,
Fell stingin wasps an bumble bees,
Tak tent o this:
There’s ae sma pest that’s waur nor these
To mar your bliss…

—W.R. Darling, “The Pest”
published in Oor Mither Tongue: An Anthology of Scots Vernacular Verse (Alexander Gardner, 1937)

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #midge #midges

The Pest
W. R. Darling

Oh ye, wha in your oors o ease, ‍‍
‍‍Are fashed wi golochs, mauks, an flees,
Fell stingin wasps an bumble bees,
Tak tent o this:
There’s ae sma pest that’s waur nor these
To mar your bliss.

They hing ower hedges, burns, an wuds, ‍‍
‍‍An dance at een in dusky cluds;
Wi aw your random skelps an scuds,
They’re naeweys worrit:
Gin there’s a hole in aw your duds,
They’ll mak straucht for it.

I’ve traivled wast, I’ve traivled east; ‍‍
‍‍‍I’m weel aquaint wi mony a beast;
Wi lions, teegers, bears – at least
I’ve kent their claw:
I’ve been the fell mosquito’s feast –
But this cowes aw.

Auld Scotland, on thy bonnie face, ‍‍
‍‍Whan Mither Nature gied ye grace,
Lown, birken glens an floery braes,
Wild windy ridges,
To save ye frae deleerit praise,
She gied ye midges.

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207d

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonie,
Beneath the moon’s unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie…

—Robert Burns, “Corn Rigs”
pages from Robert Burns: Selected Poems & Songs (OUP, 2013)

Today, 1 August, is Lammas Day

https://global.oup.com/academic/product/selected-poems-and-songs-9780199682324?cc=gb&lang=en&

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #song #18thcentury #folksong #RobertBurns #Lammas #LammasDay #romanticism #Scots #Scotslanguage

SONG
Tune-Corn Rigs are bonie

It was upon a Lammas night,
When corn rigs are bonie,
Beneath the moon's unclouded light,
I held awa to Annie:®
The time flew by, wi' tentless heed,
Till 'tween the late and early;
Wi' sma' persuasion she agreed,
To see me thro' the barley.

The sky was blue, the wind was still,
The moon was shining clearly;
I set her down, wi' right good will,
Amang the rigs o' barley:
I ken't her heart was a' my ain;
I lov'd her most sincerely;
I kiss'd her ore and owre again,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

I lock'd her in my fond embrace;
Her heart was beating rarely:
My blessings on that happy place,
Amang the rigs o' barley!
But by the moon and stars so bright,
That shone that hour so clearly!
She ay shall bless that happy night,
Amang the rigs o' barley.

ALT

I hae been blythe wi' Comrades dear;
I hae been merry drinking;
I hae been joyfu gath'rin gear;
I hae been happy thinking:
But a' the pleasures e'er I saw,
Tho' three times doubl'd fairly,
That happy night was worth them a',
Amang the rigs o' barley.

CHORUS
Corn rigs, an' barley rigs,
An' corn rigs are bonie:
I'll ne'er forget that happy night,
Amang the rigs wi' Annie.

ALT

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207d

WRITERS!

Submissions are invited to NEW WRITING SCOTLAND 44! We want poetry & prose in English, Gaelic, & Scots from writers who are Scottish by residence, birth, or inclination. All successful contributors are paid – deadline 31 Oct!

@writingcommunity

Submit free via Submittable 👇

https://nws.submittable.com/submit

#Scottish #literature #writing #WritingCommunity #IAmWriting #poetry #shortfiction #shortstories #Scots #Scotslanguage #Gaelic #Gaidhlig

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5d

A Celebration of Scottish Football, Scots Poetry & Heritage
5 March, Bridge of Allan Library. Free, booking essential.

With author & poet Hamish MacDonald, & Aoife McKenna, curator at The Smith Art Gallery & Museum

https://www.stirling.gov.uk/community-life-and-leisure/libraries-and-archives/libraries/what-on-in-the-libraries/#a-celebration-of-scottish-football-scots-poet-2

#Scottish #literature #history #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #football #ScottishFootball #SportsHistory

A Celebration of Scottish Football, Scots Poetry, and Heritage

An evening exploring the rich history of football in Scotland. With Scots author and poet Hamish MacDonald and The Smith Museum and Art Gallery curator Aoife McKenna

Images: Book cover, SQUARE BAW, by Hamish MacDonald
“Poignant, funny, on target and true, this is a cracking collection of poems” — James Robertson

An image of the world’s oldest surviving football – a leather ball from the 16th century, held in the Smith Museum and Art Gallery, Stirling.

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215d

Miscarriage

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211d

“Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye’re sleeping.”

—The Laird of Dumbiedikes, on his death-bed, to his son (in THE HEART OF MIDLOTHIAN, by Walter Scott)

28 July is World Conservation Day. Here’s “Dumbiedikes”, by James Robertson – you can listen to him read the poem online here:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0z2ZrMu__OY

#Scottish #literature #poetry #poem #Scots #Scotslanguage #WalterScott #WorldConservationDay #environment

Dumbiedikes
James Robertson

“Jock, when ye hae naething else to do, ye may be aye sticking in a tree; it will be growing, Jock, when ye’re sleeping."
—The Laird of Dumbiedikes, on his death-bed, to his son
(The Heart of Midlothian, by Sir Walter Scott)

Hoo mony trees tae prent a thoosan buiks?
Hoo mony buiks tae pulp a thoosan trees?
Hoo mony trees tae launch a thoosan boats?
Hoo mony boats tae sink a thoosan trees?
Hoo mony trees tae licht a thoosan fires?
Hoo mony fires tae smoor a thoosan trees?
Hoo mony trees tae mak a thoosan kists?
Hoo mony kists tae yird a thoosan trees?
Jock, when I’m awa, dae this for me –
howk oot a hole and in it stick a tree.
I carena gin it’s birk, beech, aik or rowan,
Sae be’t when ye’re sleepin, Jock, it’s growin.
Its canopy will spreid, its seeds will faw;
it micht be hame tae mavis, merle or craw;
speeders will hing their brigs on it, I doot,
and peerie-weerie beasties venture oot
upon the mappa mundi o its bark,
while kail-worms mak a denner o its sark.
Amang its ruits the glunchin taid will rest,
the frettin, fykie yird-moose bigg her nest,
and dentylions and puddock-stools upheeze…
In sair times, Jock, we’re sair in need o trees.
Stick in a tree, stick in a thoosan mair,
and mind o me when I’m nae langer there.
Hoo mony daiths afore the planet dees?
Tae gie the planet braith, hoo mony trees?

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208d

Robert Burns’s POEMS, CHIEFLY IN THE SCOTTISH DIALECT was published #OTD, 31 July 1786.

Copies are 3 times rarer than the Shakespeare First Folio: Patrick Scott & Allan Young are tracking the histories of surviving Kilmarnock Editions

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https://www.thebottleimp.org.uk/2017/11/kilmarnock-burns-book-history/

#Scottish #literature #poetry #RobertBurns #Scots #Scotslanguage #18thcentury #BookHistory #RareBooks

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210d

The latest issue of NORTHWORDS NOW (#46, Summer–Autumn 2025) is available free online – featuring poems, short stories, articles & book reviews, in English, Gaelic & Scots

New writing, fresh from Scotland and the wider North
Sgrìobhadh ùr à Alba agus an Àird a Tuath

https://www.northwordsnow.co.uk/Issue46

#Scottish #literature #poetry #shortstories #shortfiction #Scots #Scotslanguage #Gaelic #Gaidhlig

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204d

Whaur’s yer Willie Shakespeare noo?
11 Sept, Royal Society of Edinburgh – free, ticketed

How does Scots language come alive on stage – and what does it say about us?

Playwright Ian Brown & linguist Jeremy Smith explore the Scots & English language varieties woven into THE SCOTCH PLAY (1990) – Brown’s reimagining of Shakespeare’s Macbeth

https://www.eventbrite.co.uk/e/whaurs-yer-willie-shakespeare-noo-tickets-1489136991829

#Scottish #literature #drama #theatre #Scots #Scotslanguage #Shakespeare #Macbeth

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197d

I’ll ha’e nae hauf-way hoose, but aye be whaur
Extremes meet – it’s the only way I ken
To dodge the curst conceit o’ bein’ richt
That damns the vast majority o’ men.

—from “A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle”

A 🎂🧵 for Hugh MacDiarmid—born #OTD, 11 Aug 1892

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https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poets/hugh-macdiarmid

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #modernism #20thcentury #MacDiarmid

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2d

Escape to the tailored suit,
the pan-loaf speech,
the benefits of higher education…

—“Kailyard & After” by William Neill (1922–2010), b. #OTD, 22 Feb. He wrote poetry in all three of Scotland’s languages & was an active campaigner for Scots & Gaelic

A 🎂 🧵

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https://asls.org.uk/publications/books/volumes/a-kist-o-skinlan-things/

#Scottish #literature #poem #poetry #Scots #Scotslanguage #minoritylanguage

William Neill
Kailyard and After

When I wes wee I hud tae dae ma share
mulkan the kye wi the weemin in the byre;
I mind hou I wad scoosh lang streeman jaups
that loupit in the luggie makkin froth
rise oot frae yon rich deeps.

The douce kye skelpit roon thaim wi their tails
tae dicht the flees aff; whiles they’d cotch yir lug
a fair bit ding: ye’d sweir ablo yir braith.
An whiles the wilder yins wad try tae pit
their fit intil the luggie an caa ye oot
on tae the settles, luggie, stuil an aa …
an gin ye didna sett in ticht eneuch
there ye wad be, rubbin a sair hainch
a loch o mulk aboot ye in the grup,
the auld dug barkan an the weemin lauchan
tae see yir breeks aa smoort wi mulk an sharn.
Man, whit a contrast tae ma life-style nou …
nae dungarees, nae luggie and nae kye.

Escape to the tailored suit,
the pan-loaf speech,
the benefits of higher education,
the dull rewards of strict conformity.

O what a fall was there, my countrymen.

ALT

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