Best Deil Poems
We met in yonder tavern
hay up top o' meikle hill
bousing nappy til a' fou
the nite drave on wi' rairing voices
an the nappy growing better
a souter gars a bet wi' lades o' siller
the deil laughs as they skelpit
slippin' in the dub. Ro'nd birch
an meikle stane they slipped and slid
sic boldness as at deil th'y laughed
full wi' tippeny fearing nae evil.
auld Nick ken weel his turn was nigh
turning into a meikle towzie tyke
hay pounced an thy muck'd thir breeks
an skelpit lik pussie's for shelter
thou'll get thy fairin laughed the deil
as they reach'd safty o' key-stane
ae was shaking kenning thy luck that nite.
translation
A Drunk Bet
We met in yonder tavern
high up on top of huge hill
boozing strong ale until drunk
the night drove on with roaring voices
A cobbler makes a bet with loads of money
the devil laughs as they raced
slipping in the mud . Round birch
and huge stone they slipped and slid.
Such boldness as at devil they laughed
full with whisky not fearing evil.
Auld Nick knew well his turn was near
turning into a huge shaggy dog
he pounced and they messed their trousers
and raced like hares for shelter.
You will get what's coming
at them laughed the devil
as they reached the safety of the key stone
each was shaking knowing they were lucky that night.
Categories:
deil, drink, giggle,
Form:
Verse
Sound of a song softly sung rose in the air and through windows
Barred to let air and light in and little else.
A lament sung in Gaelic tongue foreign to ears used to French,
But its meaning understood bringing tears .
Longingly she peered through the bars over the countryside and trees,
Fine they looked in their fresh green coats.
White cloud scarse in the azure blue of afternoon sunlight,
Her heart broken in myriad pieces.
In this old castle surrounded by water was this to be her fate,
To die in a stony room of shadows.
Her resolve it grew and plans were formed to escape this place,
Meeting a friend of old named Douglas.
One dark night a boy crept close holding a key for the wooden door,
Disguised as a woman of servitude she escapes.
In a small boat on the dark waters of the loch oars slashing ,
Taking her away inch by inch .
Fearful of pursuit by her captors hearing the oars dipping,
Hoping the dark night would cloak .
Was it a failed marriage that brought her here trickery abound,
Perhaps because I am a woman bold.
A queen she was of royal descent staunch in her beliefs
Castigated by a bitter old man .
Tricked and used by men of power abuses beyond her ken,
Unable in accepting a Queen especially o a different faith
Gaiety an sobriety wurnae fur them.
Allus dressed in black lukin like giant craws
Strutting aboot as if they themsells were yon creaturs o the Earth,
Using their Holy Buik tae tell ithers whit tae dae,
Nae room fur forgiveness frae them big craws.
They plotted oan weys tae rid themsells o this decadent Queen,
Ne,er mind that she wus Queen o their laund
Rather be under Eglish Liz she wis a protestant efter aa.
How foolish ur the plans o men who hae a conceit o themsells.
Who wid use ithers tae dae the durty work
Aa tae keep therr ain hauns clean an free o blud,
But a budy kens who they wur especially therr Goad abune
Lookin doon oan those who plot tae kill,
Tae further therr oan station an fortune.
Gawin agin whit the Guid buk seys deceived intae
Daein the work o the deil.
Shame o these guid men o Scotlands past,
Shame oan therr deceitful weys
An tae thie dey their descendents dae the same,
Selling an betraying therr kintrey for profit an gain.
Andy McIntyre 16/05/2021.
Categories:
deil, abuse, anger, conflict, fear,
Form:
Ballad