Fan paddock an taid canna loup
For fear o thunnerin clatterFan pairtrick and pheasie hae mair t dread
Than August guns and cateran dugs.
Tod an brock bide still,
Happit in the green o the bank.
Humans, lik eemocks, gang hurlin throw.
The hale warld’s a mineer.
Nae mony o's venture ayont
The places far the roads rin oot
Wild places far the win blas
An the trees draw roon.
For the road's aye ahin us
Wi its birrin, tin-tack motors
Spaddin on, a boorach o reek;
An we maun dern oorsels or thole it.
Aa craturs pit doon the heid
Scowk awa fae rummlin fowk
Better the gled's rushin dive
Should carry them t heaven
Than t be deen awa by a tin box 'at rolls;
Nane ony the wiser o the passin.
Fairmer an hunter,
Tak t the hill for sport:
Mett is nae mair the prize.
An the sma beasts o lea an wid,
Cleekit atween sportin death,
Or faain prey t wilkie an futret,
Scramle awa, ower the fail dyke
At the forest's lip
Tae hazard unchance an flee
Or dee upon the roarin road.
Spen time wi a Scots dictionar an this fit ye get. I wis mindin the comments o the Wee Ginger Dug (Paul Kavanagh) on the Scots langage, for langage it is. It wis nivver jist some cant. As Paul says, it's got cultural reets and forms for law-makin an screivin.
This here is my ain shot at the last o they twa. An, as a screiver, I reserve i richt t cog a puckle less weel-kent words t gie mair gurr t the soon o't.
Nae mony o's venture ayont
The places far the roads rin oot
Wild places far the win blas
An the trees draw roon.
For the road's aye ahin us
Wi its birrin, tin-tack motors
Spaddin on, a boorach o reek;
An we maun dern oorsels or thole it.
Aa craturs pit doon the heid
Scowk awa fae rummlin fowk
Better the gled's rushin dive
Should carry them t heaven
Than t be deen awa by a tin box 'at rolls;
Nane ony the wiser o the passin.
Fairmer an hunter,
Tak t the hill for sport:
Mett is nae mair the prize.
An the sma beasts o lea an wid,
Cleekit atween sportin death,
Or faain prey t wilkie an futret,
Scramle awa, ower the fail dyke
At the forest's lip
Tae hazard unchance an flee
Or dee upon the roarin road.
© BH 2015
Spen time wi a Scots dictionar an this fit ye get. I wis mindin the comments o the Wee Ginger Dug (Paul Kavanagh) on the Scots langage, for langage it is. It wis nivver jist some cant. As Paul says, it's got cultural reets and forms for law-makin an screivin.
This here is my ain shot at the last o they twa. An, as a screiver, I reserve i richt t cog a puckle less weel-kent words t gie mair gurr t the soon o't.
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