Excerpt from:
The Wund an’ the Wetter
(Iron Press 1999)
But t’ heor ’em gollerin’ ower a boat
Wi’ the soonds a the Norsemen still thick i’ theer throat —
For’ carlin t’ fishroom, inwaver t’ crook,
Ye’ll nivvor finnd these i’ the page on a beuk —
Ah, but they’re bonny, the pairts on a cowble —
Dip a’ the forefoot, lang i’ the scorbel,
For’ tack heuk an’ gripe t’ the horns a’ hor scut,
For hor thofts t’ hor thowelds — th’ had nyems for the lot
That unlocked a hyel world...-- Which is no t’ forgit
The fagarrashin foond in a fisherman’s hut —
(Ye’d say it could dae wi’ a reight reed up!) —
Wi’ pellets an’ dookas an’ pickets an’ poys,
Swulls an’ sweels an’ bows for buoys,
Rowells an’ bowelts an’ barky sneyds,
The tyeble aa’ claed wi’ perrins a’ threed,
Wi’ hoppin’s an’ hingin’s tha’s toozled like tows,
An’ pokes for the whullicks, an’ bundles a skowbs,
An’ cloots for’ a dopper the caaldies ha’ chowed.But hey — look oot! — divvin’t gan in theer:
Ye’ll nivvor git lowsed, ’cos she’s wizenbank fair!It aa’ tummels oot in a roosty shoower;
The nets unraffle wi’ cloods a stoor.
Ye’re varnigh scumfished afore ye can caal
For the becket, the brailor, the ripper an’ aa’
The whuppin’s an’ leashin’s aback a the waa’ —
By, lad, she’s a reight Taggarine-man’s haal!An’ it’s nae bother -- it’s naen
T’ shut the door on yon.
Put oot the light. Forgit the nyems,
We’ll nivvor be wantin’ them things ageyn —
It’s come wi’ the wund an’ gan wi’ the wetter —
We’ll noe be needin’ ’em noo.
Katrina Porteous