Recollections were a little hazy,
His leaving party last night,
Undying friendships sworn,
That last friendly little fight.
Goodbye, Scotland the Brave,
Home of the warrior Clan,
The Batter Fried Mars Bar,
The Rangers footie fan,
Cool pints of Heavy
Plates of ‘taties and neaps,
Lining for the stomach
After boozy long sleeps.
He wore a Black Watch Kilt
Hung modestly to his knees
With a hem of fishing weights
To stop it lifting in the breeze.
A sheathed Skean Dhu projected
From the top of one long sock
As he stood there, a solitary figure,
On the banks of his local loch.
A supply of Haggis sandwiches
Were wrapped in a large pack
Carefully stored for his rations
In the Bergen on his back.
Goodbye porridge mines of Pentland,
Casual beating for the Haggis hunt,
Time to think of his own future,
Best foot forward, Eyes to the Front.
One last wistful look around him
Then, carefully adjusting his load
He took that first step from Scotland
Along that long High Road,
To the Land of the Sassenach.
He was a Scot through and through
But in such troubled times as these
A man’s got to do what he has to do.
Categories:
dhu, farewell, goodbye, humor, journey,
Form: Rhyme
THRUST AND SLASH
A sword in a scabbard, hung from the belt
For the Teutonic Knights, it costs much geld
Heated and tempered but it does not melt
Most blades are l straight and double sided
Easy to draw as the long blade is guided
To the old Eastern mind, such is derided
The Moorish influence is in Toledo still
With a special steel that is designed to kill
For fancier guardsmen it would fit the bill
A cutlass is curved with cupped brass guard
Designed for slashing when stabbing is hard
But need sharpening if the edge is marred
Knives however, like most daggers, are hid
An arm for a lady to grip, and quietly slid
Ready for determined action, as many did
Some thin to a point, as a poignard will do
But there are other places to find them too
As for a Scot in a sock, that’s a Skean Dhu
'2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 19' entry, 03 Nov 2022. Sponsor=Mark Toney
Categories:
dhu, war,
Form: Rhyme
Nessie's Freedom
If you’re ever at Loch Ness
even in full highland dress,
put away your skean dhu,
order up a round or two.
Nessie really likes her bevvy
but drinks only Scottish heavy,
so don’t proffer Irish stout
or you may be carried out.
With a toast to the Black Watch
she might sip a little scotch,
though proportions of her gullet
spell a need for a deep wallet.
But if none of this concerns you
she may smile as she discerns you,
and there’ll ever be a welcome
as you drink to Nessie’s freedom.
PS: There is a third poem in this series about Nessie, called At The Tartan Bonnet. I don't think I have shared it here.
Categories:
dhu, fun, humor, myth,
Form: Rhyme