(To William and Flora Johnstone)
Wheesht, wheesht, Joyce, and let me hear
Nae Anna Livvy’s lilt,
But Wauchope, Esk, and Ewes again,
Each wi’ its ain rhythms till’t.
I
Archin’ here and arrachin there,
Allevolie or allemand,
Whiles appliable, whiles areird,
The polysemous poem’s planned.
Lively, louch, atweesh, atween,
Auchimuty or aspate,
Threidin’ through the averins
Or bightsom in the aftergait.
Or barmybrained or barritchfu’,
Or rinnin’ like an attercap,
Or shinin’ like an Atchison,
Wi’ a blare or wi’ a blawp.
They ken a’ that opens and steeks,
Frae Fiddleton Bar to Callister Ha’,
And roon aboot for twenty miles,
They bead and bell and swaw.
Brent on or boutgate or beshacht,
Bellwaverin’ or borne-heid,
They mimp and primp, or bick and birr,
Dilly-dally or show speed.
Brade-up or sclafferin’, rouchled, sleek,
Abstraklous or austerne,
In belths below the brae-hags
And bebbles in the fern.
Bracken, blaeberries, and heather
Ken their amplefeysts and toves,
Here gangs ane wi’ aiglets jinglin’,
Through a gowl anither goves.
Lint in the bell whiles hardly vies
Wi’ ane the wind amows,
While blithely doon abradit linns
Wi’ gowd begane anither jows.
Cougher, blocher, boich and croichie,
Fraise in ane anther’s witters,
Wi’ backthraws, births, by-rinnin’s,
Beggar’s broon or blae—the critters!
Or burnet, holine, watchet, chauve,
Or wi’ a’ the colours dyed
O’ the lift abune and plants and trees
That grow on either side.
Or coinyelled wi’ the midges,
Or swallows a’ aboot,
The shadow o’ an eagle,
The aiker o’ a troot.
Toukin’ ootrageous face
The turn-gree o’ your mood,
I’ve slimmed until I’m lost
Like the sun ahint a clood.
But a tow-gun frae the boon-tree,
A whistle frae the elm,
A spout-gun frae the hemlock,
And, back in this auld realm,
Dry leafs o’ dishielogie
To smoke in a ’partan’s tae’!
And you’ve me in your creel again,
Brim or shallow, bauch or bricht,
Singin’ in the mornin’,
Corrieneuchin’ a’ the nicht.
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