Best Nae Poems
Am I wrong to ponder
Just how inconsiderate we are
From where we used to be
Today we think we're stars
Trust me we're no twinkle
In anybodies eyes,
frankly
Internally we should despise
Simply look how we treat the innocent
When they'll never produce our whatever
Meaning means that
Inhumane, as humans sever
Lets just close our eyes
Whilst role reversal plays
When a Gorilla tells you what to do
Do you have the balls to say nae
Will this ever happen
What humans dreams becomes
I truly hope their dreams come true
Evolutions succumb
The old King took to the battle
and leapt into the fencers fray.
“Noblesse oblige” his cronies cry.
“Our King will save the day!”
He was a bull to their gazelle
nae a fair fight, nae by half;
he'd fight just to see the thralls fall
he ‘d pierce those peacocks for a laugh!
His continence was so fearsome.
His two burly arms a rare threat.
Some would nae fight His Majesty
nor fight of his knightly get.
“How is this fair?” the Lord’s lament.
How well met can these odd match be?
“Unless, of course, ‘twas nae ‘bout fair
this was nae called noblesse oblige!
In heavy plate with blade and pole
with broadsword, He’d bested the field;
so, as the fencers broached this game
the wiser lads all chose to yield.
They would nae raise a blade to him
nor would they save for him a dance;
many a brave man whispered there
and the bolder looked on askance.
“Let Him have the day! We’ll nae play
Noblesse oblige, my fine backsides!”
And, so the fancy fencers fell
like pretty harp seals on the tide.
There are many a way to win
and sure, many a way to loose.
Yet ‘tis the metal of the man
shows in the way that he chooses.
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.
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!
Am a lass fae Govan
There a wiz born n breid
When a wiz wee a wiz playing tig on the dykes
N a split ma poor wee heid
Fae Glesga to Fife
Wiz where we went
To a flat in Methil
That ma maw goat fur rent
To skool a went like
A scaredey cat, didny know wit ti expect
2nd year it the high skool
Wiz a bit eh a pain in the neck
Home eckie wiz the class
A wanted it to be fun
Skool went well n a started wurk
Tull a wiz cooking a bun
Am a mammy eh 3 noo
Bit wit kin a say?
A replaced the telly
Nae mare tumbles in the hay
Ma weans are getting big fast
Aw gawn ti skool their self
But if a dont shake ma **** now
A might get left oan the shelf
~~~ {There's a crowd, there's a crowd, there's a crowd of
loneliness} ~~~
Here I sit surrounded by party people bizz, buzzing gleefully.
But I'm in the pits down in my zone, So I can only see me.
Thus, death to the chit chatty tones and slurred speech.
For their voices become catty echoes far from ears reach.
Got up to walk down beaming streets stepping hip to side
unable to speak.
Gulping squawk sounds, of steaming weeps ebbing, drip and slide
down unstable cheeks.
Can't hold back forsaking eye contact my prides' destroyed
as I try to avoid the grandstand of gaudy faces, gaudy
clothes; of hand to body collision. For lonely teardrops
cloud my vision.
~~{I wish it would rain, I wish it would rain,.....
I would sing it if I could sang}~~~
Head butting and unsorted collides. Zombie strutting in
morbid strides. In search of a safe haven. A wide
divide's what I'm craven, of needed segregation to hide
in heeded dissociation.
Joyful laughter, gleeful merriment and happiness all
about. While my lungs fill with hot winds pressed
against my chest in demand to be let out.
The voice of silence, the quiet stillness of the night.
The pains of yearning for thee with all my might.
Curse the agony of my plight.
~~~{Can I please, can I please put my mind at ease}~~~
Where art thou, Oh shelter... Ye place of refuge? Do
not leave my spirit to wilt and welter. Grant my soul
your peace and grace. Nae of down pouring tears deluge.
In my sorrowful demotion to bear the toil of these
boisterous turmoil secures the coiled and shrouded
aloofness of my crowded loneliness.
~~~ {There's a crowd, there's a crowd, there's a crowd of
loneliness} ~~~
Supreme balance is a hand toss.
Today it is I who bear the cross.
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,,
My Mother
Mary Ann Dow Gardiner
Mary Ann Dow Stuart wis her maiden name,
Noo, she wisnae a Scoatish Lass o' fame.
Born in nineteen hunner an' five on the fifth o' May.
gorgeous she wis' at oany time o' the day.
Like aw Mums, she wis a'ways there,
nae ither Mum a ken kin 'onestly compare.
Noo am no telling yea ivery instance o' her life,
An' let's say, tae ma faither Jack she wis the perfict wife.
Wan instance in time with you I wid like tae share,
aye durin' WWII ma an' me hid quite a scare.
It wis a chapter in ma life as a wee wee boy,
stull in ma nappies an' playin' wae toys.
We lived in a twa roomed tenement flat,
six folks an' Bonny wee Tibby the cat.
Noo the oanly way tae hiv a bath,
wis in a tin wan ,which wis three foot wan inch, an' a half.
Noo this bath wis oanly fur this wee lad yea see,
an' it wis dragged oot in front o' the windae jist afore tea.
Noo tea in oor hoose wis aboot six o'clock at night,
an' a luved ma bath an' niver pit up a fight.
It wis oan a very dark an' a very quiet winter's night,
aye the night Ma an' me hid a terrible blidy fright.
Suddenly we were in the middle o' a German air-raid,
the smile oan ma ma's face quickly began tae fade.
She climbed up oan the bunkers sink tae hiv a look,
twa seconds she's up there that's aw it took.
Pulled back the blackoot tae see the night sky,
oh my god ma ma let oot this fearsum' cry.
She heard the whistle o' a German Bomb startin' tae fall,
an' she thocht it might jist pay us twa a call.
The whistle o' that fearsum bomb got louder then stopped,
ma mum fell backwards an' oan tap o' this wee boy did flop.
Aye, right oan tap o' this wee naked Body in the said tin bath,
wan minit her scream an' that enormous crash.
That's why noo I hiv a flat head an' am eternally daft,
naw folks a dinny blame yea fur hivin' a laff.
It's funny noo but no fur mum at that time,
jings droapin' bombs oan wummin an' wee bairns is surely a terrible crime,
As fur that Gerry bomb it did land wae a lot of malice,
jist up the road in Edinburgh's Holyrood palace.
The Auld Yin.
Hello yea bonny wee pawky thing,
sittin' there tuggin' at ma hert strings.
Aye yer wee ,an' oan yer oan yer hard tae see,
niver mind wee thing jist let it be.
Withoot you, we wid hae a scunnered land,
aye wee thing yea think yer oanly a wan man band,
Help tho' is niver sae far away,
life's dramas are nae a'ways dark an' grey.
Yer mair important than yea think,
mair important than oanything that's gone extinct.
Withoot you an' aw yer like kind.
this wurld wid be in a massive bind.
So wee thing get rid o' that pawky look,
yer really a giant in oany history book.
Since the beginning, you have been there to provide,
so yer wee sel,' behind a bushel please dinny hide.
Yer no' stonnin' there oan yer oan yea ken,
yea hiv hunners an' hunners o' ither frien's.
Oan iv'ry country an' continent yea hav' many kin.
fur eons an eons that's a'ways bin.
Dayin' yer very very important job,
so ma wee courin' thing dinny sob.
Be a happy pert o' this wurld sae great,
yer up there in lights, aye wee thing, that's yer fate.
Yer fate tae provide fur aw this world's life,
withoot yer life givin' skills, we wid be in strife.
Naw !!no' in strife, cos wee widnae be here,
so ma bonny wee pawky thing, ston' up an' cheer.
Ston' up ston' up, fur heaven's sake,
Ston' up ston' up, a great bow, please take.
Nae langer be a wee quiet gentle pawky thing,
cos great nourishing life you duly bring.
Oh ah ken it's no oan yer oan yea achieve sae much,
miracles oan yer oan there is really nonesuch.
But wae aw yer mullins an' mullians oh kin yea have,
yea kin feed them aw, like the proverbial fatted calf.
Yea see noo, yer nae langer a wee pawky thing,
wae aw yer greenie pals tae the world , greatness yea bring.
Taegither yea will clan, an' nae langer be a wan man band,
wae aw yer kin an' their amazin' skills at hand.
Aw yea amazin' wee verdant clever thing,
yea ken noo join wae yer pals tae bring.
Feed the masses aw aroon the world,
let yer flag of knowledge be unfurled.
Yea thocht yea wir jist a wee singular thing,
but now yea ken yer pals arrr 'around, tae bring.
Aye, aw yer pals, arr' a touch o' class,
nae langer ma wee thing are yea jist wan wee blade o' grass.
The Auld Yin.
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.
It’s braw y’are its braw a’reet
Wi’ brilly natchers at yer feet
Tis one fer they an’ one fer me
T’ set tha brilly natchers free
So dinna mumble dinna fret
Tha has nae seen yon natchers yet
But when they come as come they will
Be sure t’stand rock solid still
Nae griping an’ nae felly clure
Wie brilly natchers at yer door
By my light,
One dark night
Phosphorence you will see-
Come closer,look at me
Nae, a fly,but a beetle,I be
On the ocean waves in a stormy sea
goblinskin sails fly o'er me.
To a far off lands wid bloody hands;
upon Savage’s shore did 'e land.
“Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!”
Threw a mad mans skull, 'e spot me prey;
and call me black 'earts into the fray.
Knee deep in mud and covered wid gore
I gouge out der gold teeth ta add to me store.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
At least its nae a part of me!
We loads de treasure, raise anchors of bone;
hoist high de midsail and fly fast home.
Wid a new gold tooth and diamonds rare;
an' Booberie feathers dance’n me hair.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
From de Slaugh bones jaw 'pon m' knee;
I carve a comb wid a tee hee hee.
Wid a skillful 'and an a bone white knife;
I finish a fob ta bring ta me wife.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
To Cursing's foul harbor threw sewage galore;
bundles of pelts stacked ta da fore,
down da plank, 'e walk wid swaggering stride;
viper oil coats the sword at me side.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
Threw thieves’ foul dens 'e carry me horde
unload at de tanner, strut ‘board.
“Cook ‘ere!” I holler “Bring me dat stew!”
Snowbeast meat pie and hearty brew.
Sing Hey, Ho, ’m wild and free;
at least its nae a part of me!
Ghoulskin sails unfurled, storm crestin' high
'e sail out ta plunder and land 'e spy.
“Ahoy! Me buckos! What’s ’pon dat shore?”
monsters dressed in bones, naught more.
“Sing Hey, Ho, I be wild and free…..
“By gum,” der dressed in de likes a me.”
Place your head upon my chest and listen for what used
to be
Echoing silence floods your ear for you are no longer
part of me
thine rechid love I have cast away hinder me will
not
No longer will I amerce my self in thee,nae not even
a thought
Countless times you would swear your love seeming to
be sincerer
Only to chuckle when I turned my head knowing your lover was
near
Oh how clueless I was to think that I was your only
love
Blinded by beauty I walked in the dark not noticing the light
above
Never again will you darken my door this to you I
swear
Rejoicing I was the day of our end whilst cursing the day of
our pair
Forgive me lord for cursing her so but a fool I wont be
made
Chilled is my heart to embrace the heat of hell for this anger will never
fade
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.