Roadkill: Scots Poems Poem by Sheena Blackhall

The Kirkin o the Cooncil & the Trades
A procession o toun Cooncillors
An Trades heid bummers makk their wye
Frae toun hoose tae the Mither Kirk
Aabodie's gleg an spry

The Members o the Cooncil
Dedicate thirsels tae wirk fur the common weal
O the toun an its fowk
Tae wirk wi smeddum an zeal

The Sivven Incorporated Trades
Process tae the kirk as weel.
The pews are stappit, it cud be a Christmas day
The kirk his a festive feel

Furs aroon their shouders
Fowk wi medals, poppies, reid gouns,
Are set hymns unkent, fey
The congregation warssles wi the tunes

Syne aff fur luncheon, tae the Sivven Trades
Swickit o Sankey sangs, tae tap it aa
A feast o stovies aneth chandeliers
The flag o Reid Harlaw hung prood on the waa

Spurgies
Millions o spurgies, noo are missin, deid
Pesticides bring their nummers tummlin doon.
Thon birds hae tint the habitats tae breed

Oor wildlife's shrinkin that aince thrived an spreid,
An floods can quickly rise an quickly droon:
Fin watter doondraps forcie, it brings dreid

Wud fires brakk oot, they burn breet, byre an seed
Terrifee aathing live, fur miles aroon
Eagles an spurgies, braw or common broon


The Yule Lads: by Sheena Blackhall

Grýla, The Mother of the Yule Lads
The Mither o the Yule lads
Is unca coorse tae view
She searches oot ill tricket bairns
An turns them intae stew

An nesty little nickums,
Are biled up wi tatties
Or spiced wi special hackit herbs
Tae cook them as chappaties

Sae dae fit big fowk tell ye
Or creepin throw the dark
The mither o the Yule Lads
Will ett ye, heid, sheen, sark

Leppalúði, the Lazy Husband
The faither o the Yule Lads
Has a snoot as big's a pudden
He sits aside the ingle
A boozie creashie glutton

The anely exercise he gets
Is openin his moo
Ettin chips peas an tomatae sauce
Wi fried bairns mixed wi coo

The buttons on his jaiket
Are raxxed tae brakkin pynt
An lirks o fat like rubber rings
Are rowed roon ilkie jynt

The Christmas Cat (Jólakötturinn,)
The Christmas cattie is blaik an hairy
If yer wee, pit on new claes
Fur raggity duds will fire her bluid
She' ll hunt ye an eyn yer days

The Christmas cattie niver purrs
She sherpens her cleuks an spits
Sae bide inside, an try tae hide
Or she'll crunch yer banes tae bits


Here are the 13 Yule Lads

December 12. Stekkjastaur (Sheep-Cote-Clod)
Yowe-fauld-dub is a tricky vratch
A chorin sleekit limmer
He sooks milk frae the fermer's flock
He wauks on feet o timmer

Wi a beard that's green an hudderie
A snoot that's weet an snottery
His lugs are stappt wi tattie shaws
His gobs are thick an pyochery

December 13. Giljagaur (Gully Gawk)
Gutter Glowerer hides in barns
He chores the froth frae milk pail taps
His oxters bowf like midden bree
His chikks are fat as flooery baps

He's pirn taed, he's cross eed
He slivers fin he spikks
An fin he sleeps doon in the strae
His smelly taes they rikk

December 14. Stúfur (Stubby)
The Yule Lad kent as Stubby
Chores pans an etts the crusts
A bowdy leggit aiblich,
Hauf smored in pastry dust

His mowser's fu o crummles
There's gravy doon his chin
He's a belly like a barrel
An an unca plooky skin

December 15th Þvörusleikir (Spoon-Licker)
The fourth Yule Lad, Speen Licker
Is unca heich an thin
A skinny-malinkie lang legs
He's double steeped in sin

He rypes speens frae their ainers
Afore they sup fit's there
Thirty speenfus rich in hinney
Wad satisfee a bear
A speen o mince an tatties
A speen o pottit heid
A speen o pickelt beetroot
Tae makk yer mou turn reid.

December 16. Pottaskefill (Pot-Licker)
The fifth Yule Lad, pot licker
Chores soup like Cullen skink
Or fine thick cock-a-leekie
That Scots fowk like tae drink

He likes ham shank wi lentils
Or codfish soup in fat
His tongue can furl roon nippit neuks
Like ony acrobat

His lugs cock oot like haunles
His hair stauns up like spikes
Wi hairy hauns an hairy hochs
He guffs like twinty tykes

December 17. Askasleikir (Bowl-Licker)
The saxth Yule Lad chores ashets
An sups fit's bin unettten
His beard is fu o beasties
His teeth are rank an rotten

He even cleans the dug's dish
Auld banes an dauds o grissle
He dichts his bibbles on his sleeve
His farts pipe lood's a fussle

December 18. Hurðaskellir (Door-Slammer)
Door Slammer is the Yule Lad |
Fa waukens fowk at nicht
Bi slammin doors, a noisy vratch
He keeps weel ooto sicht

He deefens little bairnies
Auld wifies lose their teeth
Fin drinkin ovaltinees
The racket gars them greet

December 19. Skyrgámur (Skyr-Gobbler)
The echth Yule Lad's Skyr gobbler
He hunts doon skyr yogurt
He winna sup up trifles
It's yogurt gies him comfort

He bides awa frae ice cream
Clootie dumplin gars him cowk
It's yogurt, mornin noon an nicht
He's nae like ordnar fowk

December 20. Bjúgnakrækir (Sausage-Swiper)
The ninth Yule Lad, lues sausages
His nemme is Sausage-swiper
He chores them, smoked, frae rafters
That's fu he gets his fibre

He aywis hides in attics
Wi forgotten claes an gear
Amangst wyvers wabs an widwirm
In a sotter an a steer

December 21. Gluggagægir (Window-Peeper)
The tenth Yule Lad, Windae Peeper
Glowers in tae see inbye
Luikin oot fur jewls or deinties
Tae be rypit on the sly

He's the shadda at the windae
He's the stalker at the yett
He is seenister an fearie
He's the kind ye'd nae forget

December 22. Gáttaþefur (Doorway-Sniffer)
The eleventh o the Yule Lads
Has a neb as lang's a caber
Fur sniffin oot Icelandic breid
Leaf patterned, fu o savour

Doorwye sniffer dislikes sheep's heid
Fermented shark, lambs' brains
Wi haunvrocht lava satt, on tap
Sic diet gies him pains
December 23. Ketkrókur (Meat-Hook)
The twalth Yule Lad, caad meat hook
Wi his weapon, chores the meat
He eats it raw an bluidy
Tae him, seal meat is swete

His nails are lang an cruikit
Fur teirin up reid steaks
He niver suffers skitters
He niver etts hame bakes

December 24. Kertasníkir (Candle-Stealer)
The thirteenth o the Yule Lads
Follaes bairns tae chore their caunles
Tae gie them nichtmares in the derk
Say they'll be hurt bi tummles

Bit yet, they aa leave gifties
In bairns' sheen left ootbye
Tho fey Icelandic Yule Lads
That veesit on the sly


New Calfie
He wis born in full evenin weir
Blaik jaiket, troosers, fit sark
Riggit oot fur this special event
Warsslin frae weet strae tae staun
His mither lickin the slivers frae his side
His roch moo sookin her teet
He's the latest in his line

He his niver seen girsse
Or birds, or the lemon sun in Merch
Fur noo, hame is strae, the byre
Moosewabs an teenie wyvers
An the warm heavin barrel o milk on shanks

Naebody brings flooers or cairds tae the mither
Nae broody aunties coo an veesit her

The fermer's wife brings her warm mash
Ae female bringin comfort tae anither


Doric Owersett o Carols

Seelent Nicht
Seelent nicht, haly nicht!
Aa is calm, aa is bricht.
Roon thon Vergin, Mither an Bairn.
Haly littlin free o aa hairm
Sleep in heivenly peace,
Sleep in heivenly peace.

Seelent nicht, haly nicht!
Shepherds shakk at the sicht.
Glammories faa frae heiven afar
Heivenly hosts sing Alleluia,
Christ the Saviour is born!
Christ the Saviour is born

Seelent nicht, haly nicht!
Bairn o God luve's pure licht.
Sheenin rays frae Yer haly face
Wi daybrakk o sic sainin grace,
Jesus Lord, at Yer birth
Jesus Lord, at Yer birth

Away in a manger
Awaa in a coo's troch
Nae crib fur a bed
The littlin Lord Jesus
Laid doon His swete heid
The starnies in the bricht sky
Luikit doon farHe lay
The littlin Lord Jesus
Asleep on the hey

The kye they are lowin
The Bairnie he waaks
Bit the littlin Lord Jesus
Nae greetin He makks
I lue Ye, Lord Jesus
Luik doon frae the sky
An bide bi ma side
Until mornin's nearbye

Be near me, Lord Jesus
I prig Ye tae bide
Close by me foriver
Bring luve tae ma side
Bless aa the dear bairnies
In Yer tender care
An rig us fur heiven
Tae bide wi Ye there

Jingle Bells
Hashin ben the snaa
In a ae-shelt reefless sleigh
Ower the parks we gae
Lauchin aa the wey
Bells on bobtails ring
Makkin speerits bricht
Fit fun it is tae ride an sing
A sleighin sang this nicht,

Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle aa the wey
Oh, fit fun it is tae ride
In an ae shelt reefless sleigh,
Jingle bells, jingle bells
Jingle aa the wey
Oh fit fun it is tae ride
In an ae-shelt reefless sleigh

Noo the grun is fite
Gae it fin yer young
Takk the quines the nicht
Sing this sleighing sang
Takk a bobtailed bay
Twa forty fur his speed
An hitch him tae a reefless sleigh
An ye will take the lead


Doric Owersett o The Crow by John Clare
Fu peacefu-like it seems fur lanely chiels
Tae see a craa flee in the thin blae lift
Ootower the wids an parks, ower level muir
It spikks o clachans, or o sheilin near
Ahin the neebourin wids — fin Merch wins heich
Teir aff the branches o the muckle aik
I luve tae see these lum sweepers flee by
An hear them ower the wrunkled widlans craik
Then wheech askew frae the hid widman's straik
That in the wids their daily darg is dane
I luve the seety craa nur wid I spyle
Its Merch day exercise o skreichin joy
I luve tae see it sailin back an fore
Far parks, an wids an watters spreid aneth


Doric Owersett of The Corn Craik's Rispy Song by John Clare
The corncrak cried her simmer caa jist as the sun gaed doon
Copper reid a burnin baa in wids ahin the toon
I danneret furth a quine tae meet sae bonnie an sae fair
Nae ither flooer wis hauf sae swete an coal blaik wis her hair

Upon the girses stude the dyew bead draps o clearest pearl
Her hair wis blaik her een wir blue o fit a bonnie quine
Her thrapple it wis lily fite her breist wis like the swan
She wis aa hairt an lued delicht an idol fur a Man

The corncrak's simmer sang wis ower, the sun hid left alane
I lue dusk kisses on the muir tae lewder life unkent
Hid in the briestie o a flooer its lifetime there be spent
Eternity wid seem an hour an I'd be reistin weel


Doric Owersett of the Fern Hoolet's Nest by John Clare
The weariet widsman shauchlin hame aneth
His tichtly wippit kinnlers winners aft
Fin crossin ower the whin-encrustit heath
Tae hear the hoolet's cry that hoots alaft
In cerclin furls an aften bi his heid
Birls as quick as thocht an ill an rest
As throwe the reeshlin ling wi wechty tread
He gaes nur heeds he wanners near its nest
That in aneth the whin or spreidin thorn
Lies happit on the grun an teasin roon
Thon lanely airt she sterts her jarring soun
Tae the unheedin heath till mottled morn
Fulls the reid East wi daylicht's comin doon
The muir's echoes mocks the herdin loons