Best Doon Poems
Aye and ’tis a bonnie glen
And for us the Laird’s enclave
Dinna fush the soldiers’ menace
‘Tis this moment that He gave.
And we gaither ‘neath the stars
And we tak the wine and bread
And we cleave with benediction
To each Word arr Saviour said.
This is Church
Mind not the dampness
And the laing hike to and fro’
For the Pastor of our choosin’
Meets us here, and helps us grow.
Though he lives just like an ootcast
With a price upon his head
He can still preach Heaven doon t’us
And we treasure all he said.
Sure ’tis hard times we endure
For the One King of our Kirk
Jesus, here, atop this hillside
And His glorious finished work.
And a lark flits kindly by us
And a sheep bleats out content
And we learn through sterling sufferin’
What the hunted Psalmist meant.
Hebrews 11: 38
(well spoken of the Scottish Covenanters of the mid 1600's)
Categories:
doon, christian, history,
Form:
Pastoral
Man samarpit, tan samarpit
Aur yah jeevan samarpit
Chaahtaa hoon desh ki dharti tujhey kuchh aur bhi doon
Ma tumhara rin bahut hai, mai akinchan
Kintu itna kar raha phir bhi nivedan
Thaal mein laoo saja kar bhaal jab bhi
Kar daya sweekar lena wah samarpan
Gaan arpit, Praan arpit
Raqt ka kan kan samarpit
Chaahtaa hoon desh ki dharti tujhey kuchh aur bhi doon
Maanj do talwaar, lao na deri
Bandh do kas kar kamar par dhaal meri
Bhaal par mal do charan ki dhool thodi
Sheesh par asheesh ki chhaya ghaneri
Swapn arpit, prashn arpit
Aayu ka kshan kshan samarpit
Chaahtaa hoon desh ki dharti tujhey kuchh aur bhi doon
Todta hoon moh ka bandhan, kshama do
Gaon mere, dwar, ghar, aangan kshama do
Aaj seedhe haath mein talwaar de do
Aur bayeen haath mein dhwaj ko thama do
Yah suman lo, yah chaman lo
Need ka tran tran samarpit
Chaahtaa hoon desh ki dharti tujhey kuchh aur bhi doon
Poet of this Poem is Shri Ramavtar Tyagi
Categories:
doon, poetry,
Form:
Written in Scottish dialect.
Jack, Bernard and John, the Bandit Kings,
Hae handicaps wae too high.
Each o’ them score four points a hole,
Ah canna tell ye a lie!
Me, ah’m Rabbie, the bard o’ the course;
Ah’m lucky tae score yin point.
Ah feenish the game an’ come in fur a jar,
ma boadies awa’ oot o’ joint.
Jack, Bernard and John, coont up the scores,
Tae see which yin o’ them’s won.
Me ah look doon at ma pitifu’ caird.
"Nae guid wi’ a hunner an’ one."
Bernard says, "Jack what have you scored?"
In his posh Yorkshire dialect tone;
Jack’s lingo is great at a rugby club bash
But no’ sae guid oan the phone.
The Caverley Poond is played doon the last,
The lowest net score scoops the lot:
They’ve aw hit great drives right doon the middle;
Noo they wait for a shoat frae the Scot!
Ah dinna let them doon, ah’ve duffed ma ba’,
It’s flown fifty yairds, nae mair;
Ah tak’ oot ma five wid an’ gie it a heave
An’ they aw begin tae stare!
The ba’ flies superbly, as tho’ it had wings
An’ sails richt intae the hole!
Ah’m happy ah’ve taken these bandits doon,
At last ah’ve achieved ma first goal!
The moral o’ this tale is keep yer sporran zipped up
Dinna let them see a wee groat:
They’ll hatch oot a plan tae help themselves
Tae aw the shillin’s ye’ve goat!
Categories:
doon, friendship, funny, sports
Form:
Verse
Dozakh aur Sharab.........
Tere laboan ka rang mile ga gulaab mein
Teri nigah e naaz ka nasha sharaab mein
Mil jaye gar woh aik baar mujh ko khwaab mein
Rakh doon ga dil ko cheer ke unki janaab mein
Dozakh mein mil rahi he mujhe peene ki saza
aatish bharak rahi he suboo-e-sharaab mein
Behre tashaffi aaen ge Muhammad e Mustafa
Bakshe gunah jayen ge roz e hisaab mein
Dil ki kitaab band na krna kabhi ay dost,
parhna likha hua he jo roshan kitab mein
Moosa ko gadriye ki samajh aaee na jo dua,,.
makhmoor tha woh nikhwat e baar e sawab mein
Du pal ka he suroor jo rakhe Khuda se dooor
shaitan ka he shor o shar sharb o sharab mein
Peeri mein sab ko aati he yaad e khuda hee kion?
he lutf jab ho yaad e khuda bhi shabab mein
by mazHur
Categories:
doon, allah, angst, god, imagery,
Form:
Ghazal
TRIMDON GRANGE EXPLOSION *
( 16 FEB 1882, DURHAM, ENGLAND )
Noo March is heor and the wind she’s cowld *
But the sixty nine sowls divvent feel it - strange
Theor noo wheor they feel nee cowld and nivver get owld
Since they gave theor sowls at Trimdon Grange.
Last month on that bad sixteenth day
Owld Widow Burnett went to church to pray
For the three fine sons she once cherished
Noo, aal too soon, they hev aal perished
In thet dusty pit the rolleyways worn’t proper wattored *
And in the Harvey Seam - a thoosand foot doon
And three miles lang - that’s aal thet mattored.
The goaves * wor filled wi’ gas and the dust wes aal around.
They winnet be gannin yem nee maor *
Nor scrannin theor supper o’ pan hagglety *
Nor hengin theor coats yon under the staor
Nor scoffin theor bait and sugary tea
Wor footbaal tyem’s gannin tiv miss the lads
Joseph, Geordie, and James and the fower Broons
We’ll nivver forgit what gyems we had
And when we skelped Hartlepool Toon *
At Durham Big Meetin as the bands made a start
And the teams showed theor best to the crood
We were cowpin wor creels in the clart *
and shootin the odds o’ Hartlepool oot lood.
Oh weel, they left hame that morning to eorn theor daily bread;
Noo theor scrannin in a place where danger is nee maor.
Sixty nine men and boys wor numbered wi the dead.
Aye, death will pay us aal a visit : they hev ownly gone befaor.
…………………………………………………………………………
* One of the worst coal mining disasters in England
* The dialect is known as “Geordie” and is still widely known today in the UK. It
is the dialect of my own childhood, sadly now heavily overlain with standard English.
* Watering kept the explosive dust under control
* A goaf was a working gallery in the mine
* Pan hagglety - a fried mutton dish
* The Trimdon Grange soccer team beat Hartlepool’s team the previous year.
* They won’t be going home any more
* Doing somersaults on the muddy ground
Categories:
doon, death, history,
Form:
Verse
Wur in RE an the nuns are gien
oot sweeties, fur getting the kweschins right.
Three oota three, then she’s askin mae who Jesus’ mither is.
‘Ah doan’t know sista,’ ah tell hur.
She isnae happy an tells mae tae hink aboot it. So ah dae
an ah wurk oot Jesus wis god. It wis a trick kweschin,
‘he didnae hiv ah mither.’ Ma
sweet stoats aff the side ae ma heid.
She’s spittin in ma coupon fur a name, an
diggin hur digits in ma neck.
‘Ah doan’t know who Jesus’ friggin mither wis!’
Miraculously ah float tae the front ae the cless. Ma haun’s oot,
bit ah doan’t hink shill hit mae wae that big stick. Thwack!
Ah look doon it the bloody gash through ma puddlin
eyes, ‘yoo’ve broke ma haun’ ah croak,
then turn roon an boak.
Categories:
doon, abuse, education, religious, school,
Form:
Bio
scotland poem
bonnie scotlands the place to be,
whar awe yae ever may want tae be,
fae glens n lochs and water to
lookin arood scotland whor thars a bonnie view,
whar the lads may wear thar kilts
whar the wumin get thir little thrils
its nae a place fur sun n sand
still wae awe the rain
scotlands a bonnie land,
wee rabbie burns came fae ayr
an his cottage is still stanin there
just alang the road me fae me
just doon by the bonnie sea,
whar aw the sand and water to,
ayr is a place wae a bonnie view,
in scotland we hae loads o fun
even if we dinae hae nae sun,
whar ya go tae cleer ya heed
wae the fresh air that helps ya indeed,
glesga is a fair big old toon
whar all the fun sterts when the sun goes doon
ya hae twa teams left n right
that get tae europe wae a return flight,
we dae hae oil anaw
wish we could buy it and prices dae faw,
so when ya want tae come n see
vist ayr toon an you may see me,
a wull wear ma kilt n coat n hat
n show ya scotland bonnie land,,
Categories:
doon, upliftingwater, may, sun, water,
Form:
Sa muling pagpikit ng mga mata,
Dagling magbubukas ang panaginip,
Saglit akong mawawala,
Tungo sa kalawakan ng aking isip.
Tayo'y muling magtatagpo,
Sa gitna ng pagkakaidlip,
Sana'y di na magkalayo,
Pinipilit ko, pero isa ka lang kathang-isip.
Doon kung saan ikaw ay parang tunay,
Doon kung saan hawak ang iyong kamay,
Sana naman sa totoong buhay,
Makatagpo nang isang tulad mo.
Hilumin mo na ang sakit ng pag-iisa,
Buhay ko, bigyan mo na ng saya,
Marahil ngayon, isang ilusyon,
Balang araw mayroong tutugon.
Hanggang sa muling paglalakbay,
Makaharap ka na nang tunay...
Categories:
doon, dream, love, teen,
Form:
Light Verse
When ah sairly look doon frae up oan high
Frae ma cloud warmed dookit in the azure sky
At aw the drunken bloated bletherums
Wha meet fur ma birthday's kilted getherums
Tae feast sae dearly oan neeps an' tatties
Wi' yon sonsie puddin' we aye cry haggis
Tae toast wi' wee haufs o'usquebaugh ma name
Ah huvtae admit tae a real sense o' shame
Ah widnae want tae be seen deid wi' ony o'thum.
No e'en fur the whale o' a guid king's ransom.
Sic beanos fur ithers might be fine 'n' dandy
Just gie me time fur a wee bit o' hoochmagandy.
'Twas wi' the lassies ah dearly lo'ed tae gambol
Fur they queens aw did mak ma knees tae tramble.
Categories:
doon, humor,
Form:
Rhyme
A luv ma life sae full o' joy,
I keep ma interests at full employ.
Each day fur me is sic' delight,
every day, aw' day an' ivery night.
I go tae bed an' lay doon ma heid,
aye richt efter ma supper feed.
Ma thochts are o' beautiful things,
an' tae ma wee brain sic' pleasure brings.
Ah even dream afore ah sleep,
aye, ah do, afore a count those sheep.
Aw' the happy things that has been ma day,
ma wife,ma daughter, sons an' all things ofay.
I'm lucky growing plants is my joy,
auld as I am noo, an' since a boy.
Saft , verdant, vibrant, aw' kinds o' colour,
that grow in winter, spring, autumn an' summer.
I luv sculpture as weel as ma bonny plants,
an' aboot them ah very oaften rant.
An' a luv ma Gairden that's foo o' life,
sno' though, as luvly as ma Bonny wife.
An' ma bairns gei me luvly dreams,
aw life's great, thats what is deemed.
So when ma heid has passed tae sleep,
aw thay luvly thoughts ma soul dis keep.
When I awake frae ma gentle dreams,
wae that first gentle saft sunbeam.
Am oot o' bed like lightnin' jack,
an' oaf tae work wae ma luncheon pack.
Workin' among aw ma bonny fluers,
ah tend no' tae notice ma wurkin 'oors.
Of back noo ,tae ma ain luvly hame,
luvly , 'cos nae ither hoose wid feel the same.
Ma ither joy is cookin' fur aw ma folks,
an' I'll no' mention ma luv fur jokes.
Then there is ma luv in writin' poems each day,
am sure oan FanStory yea arrr' aw' ofay.
A guid night wae aw' ma kin beside,
ma happy face yea canny hide.
Hae ma supper then tae bed I go,
thinking beautiful things, Aye, that is so.
The Auld Yin.
Categories:
doon, life, happy, beautiful, autumn,
Form:
Quatrain
Come in, come in and sit ye doon
a warm spot by the fire's for ye
the kettle's on and 'bout to sing
a cuppa's brewing soon for two
Come in, come in and sit ye doon
there's so much that you need te hear
I kenna keep it to me self
such sorrow needs a friendly ear
Come in, come and sit ye doon
I've such a sorry tale to share,
the world's a hard and nasty place
me fate's unkind and life's unfair
Come in, come in and sit ye doon
ye ken, I'd love your company
there's nay so treasured as a friend
for poor, wee me, Miss Misery
Categories:
doon, dark, humor, metaphor,
Form:
Ballad
This is based on a story about David 'Deacon' Brown The Open Golf Champion of 1886 at
Musselburgh, Scotland.
Davy wis a genius
at climbin' up an' doon.
A chimney sweep o' sure repute
frae Musselburgh Toon.
He won The British Open
in 1886;
Ah'm share awbody whae wis there
thocht it wis a fix!
The Championship Officials
had a player oot o' sync.,
So they thocht o' 'Deacon' Broon,
A player whae'd played the Links.
They fund him up a chimney,
Cleanin' oot the Lum.
They washed him an' they claithed him
An' filled his achin' tum.
The course wis fu' o' champions
linin' up that day.
'Deacon' mumbled tae hissel',
"Weel ah'm jist here tae play!"
He played his gowf wi' panache
an' beat them at their game:
"Ah'm the world's best chimney sweep
an' that is NOO, ma claim tae fame!"
Copyright Robert Cartwright-Davidson February 2009
Categories:
doon, funny, sports
Form:
Verse
Note
(Try to put your best Scottish accent on when reading this one)
Disguarded fae the workplace, rusted red distorted frame.
Mangled handles reachin' oot like a wee disguarded bairn.
Were ye pushed aroon' a factory,heavin' loads or liftin' grain.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Wer' ye wheeled aroon' all day in the snaw an' wind an' rain.
Yer tyre treed is bare noo an' has seen far better days.
You've been a mate tae many wi' the heevy loads you've raised.
Yer bolts an' axles aches an' pains are a burden o' yer past.
Manufactured in the 60s an' for sure wir built tae last.
After all yer toil an' efforts,the flickers gone noo fae yer flame.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Old wheelbarrow,a ponder fae whit walk o' life ye came.
Did you carry sand or rubble, did ye muck oot on the fairm?
Yer buckets lying twisted like a face that's had a batterin'.
As the rain hits aff your rusty hinge, i hear a pitter-patterin'.
Ye look like you've been there a while,as yon weeds make ye their home.
Wi' yer pal lyin' there down at yer side ,old flattened traffic cone.
Old wheelbarrow, a ponder fae whit walk o' life you came.
Your future's no' too bright but we all can say the same.
'Cause oor country's in a rut right noo and it's all hands to the pumps.
The pension age has risen and we're all doon in the dumps.
Old wheelbarrow i ponder,will i fix up yer old frame?
And work ye till you drop (again!) It's oor Governments main aim.
(Well done,good ascent! Pour yourself a wee whisky,now)
Categories:
doon, lifelife, life,
Form:
Rhyme
A Top A Highland Hill
A top a windswept highland hill above Locheil land
Clansmen gathered roun and shook the princes haun
They raised the standard high cheered till they were hoarse
Followed the flying heron across the highland gorse.
A,wa tae London toon wi hopes held dear in heart
O pitting Cherlie oan a throne whaur he richtly belonged
Dreams o highland jacobites tae rule oor blessed laun
An nation free aw europes stifling haun.
As so aften happens dreams die oan a wrang move
And at Derby juist nor o London toon
It wiz decided that we would go forrat nae mair
So wi turned an heided hame wi hairts ower sair.
Goerdie boy sent his airmie chasin us
A the wey back to scotias verdant green
Up an doon , doon an up aw ower the place
Till at Drummossie moor we met them face to face.
Oor clans were weary and tired oot
But charged intae them none the less
Their guns ripped through oor ranks ripping us to shreds
We scattered , whit was left, to oor wee bit hill an glen
Cumberland , the butcher boy chased us yince again
Tae oor ancestral hames reducing them to ash
Murdered those who fought and lost and innocents alike
Even the auld yins infirm an ill still biding in their beds.
The craws they feasted well oan highland blood an guts
Plaids an kilts an a, were hidden in the straw
Oor prince he hid awa n,er tae return tae us
But were er we be wi toast him wi oor cups.
Andrew P McIntyre November 2011.
Categories:
doon, allegory, cry,
Form:
Ballad
Ah had a aulder bruther whin ah wis wee,
ah wis five then an' he -wis nine yea see.
A tendid tae follow him aboot,
bit bein' aulder he widnae care a hoot.
Aw jings a remember wan day at school,
oot o' ma pocket ma hankie a bullyboy did pull.
Whit arrrr' yea cryin' fur? Ma brother Jack did say,
that big bullyboy pinched ma hankie whin ah wis at play.
Noo bein' aulder an' bigger he set aboot his bloke,
at furst the bloke thocht it wis a joke.
Bit no fur lang whin Jack grabbed this blokes wee wee parts,
the bully bloke screamed an' had an involuntary fart:)
Weel a gote ma hankie back an' it stoaped me fidgin',
as that bullyboy bloke walked away haudin' his Nether region"
Naw ma bruther wis no fond o' playin' wae me,
bit he wid a'ways protect me tae the Nth degree.
Whin a wis Nine an' ma bruther wis thirteen.
Jack wis a'ways oot an' never tae be seen,
Wan day ma faither came hame frae his workin' day.
"Alex" he shouted oot the windae , cum in this minit frae play.
Jings, crivens he wis in a blidy angry mood,
a wid hiv ran a mile if a possibly could.
Did you burn aw those window curtains doon?
a looked up at the windae an' blidy swooned.
The curtains wir hingin' wae a wee bit charcoaly thread,
oh crivens a wished as wis blidy dead,
No me faither, naw it wisnae me,
jist then, at that moment, ah hid an' involuntary pee.
The door opened an' Jack came in,
his face white as if he had done a terrible sin.
Sorry faither it wisnae Alex that done this horrible deed,
oh so sorry faither I wis stupid, Jack did 'onestly plead.
It wis me as ah flicked a lighted match,
oan blidy fire those curtains did catch.
Aw a kid dae wis tae pull them doon oan the flair,
an' smuther the flames wae the back o' that there chair.
Noo , faither dinae explode,--- at aw,
even efter aw whit he had saw.
Faither said. Twa things saved yea Jack ma lad,
an' fur those twa things you should be glad.
First wan, yea admitted yer firey crime,
saved yer wee bruther frae a hell o' a time.
Second wan wis yer presence o' mind,
actin' sae quickly whin yea were in a terrible bind.
So ma lad, thank you for being so quick an' true,
no punishment but a reward for you is due.
Sadly for me noo baith have gone,
but niver have lights so brightly shone:)
The Auld Yin.
Categories:
doon, dedication, me, day, me,
Form:
Quatrain