#scotland
I actually wrote 2 versions of this poem, if you care to read the original draft, here it is:
This small black rock jutting out of the ocean. Step back in time and slow down the clock. Forget about life for a while and watch the fisherman on boats flowing over an ocean of turquoise. Watch the tide pull seaweed and birds battle the wind, high up on the cliffs there’s a cave full of secrets. From mountain peaks flirting with clouds, to the trill little song of the warbling skylark - soot coloured ravens the spirits of old, what a breathtaking place this is to behold.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 6:15 PM UTC
This small black rock,
jutting out of the ocean.
Step back in time
and slow down the clock.
Spy fisherman on boats
leaving the dock,
on turquoise waters,
tranquil and bright,
reflecting skies of endless light.
Watch the tide pull seaweed and birds battle wind.
High in the cliffs,
A cave time forgot,
Echoes still linger,
In that weather worn spot.
From mountain peaks flirting with clouds, to the trill little song of the warbling skylark - soot coloured ravens the spirits of old, what a breathtaking place this is to behold.
Apr 7
Apr 7, 2026 at 6:14 PM UTC
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Mar 30
Mar 30, 2026 at 5:38 AM UTC
In Scotland where
Green hills rise so high
Touching the big blue sky
Lochan waters deep and still
Hear the wind sing on the hill
And Scotland once from the
Appalachian mountains of North America
And Scottish castles stand
And proud strong and old
Stories in their walls unfold
Bagpipes play a lively tune
Underneath the silver moon and
Scotland land of pure beauty and
A bonnie place a lovely sight.
Nov 18, 2025
Nov 18, 2025 at 3:46 PM UTC
May peace and truth beguide my wounded soul
That tends and treats the sick with caring hands.
Compassioned heart for mothers new, and ole,
And infants brought to bear within these lands.
With bone and herb, and balm and flame, my trade
Is healing, birthing, mending. Berwick North
At Nether Keith I dwelt. No accolade
I sought, but honed my skills and blossomed forth.
Though widowed, I, with help of kith and kin,
Provided care and nourishment to those
Whom surgeons spurned or medics cast chagrin.
This tough but noble calling here, I chose.
These humble skills in time became revered,
Until the cold distrust of church appeared.
Until the cold distrust of church appeared,
Content was I, to toil through my days.
My truthful testimony volunteered,
When called upon to answer for my ways.
At Haddington I stood and spoke my truth,
That ne’er was dev’lish force about my dwell,
Nor thoughts nor will of evil. Nay, forsooth!
Tis virtue that beguides this mortal shell.
“A godly, humble, simple maid am I,
That tends the sick and lame with loving touch.
The wanton work of evil I decry,
And guard myself from Satan’s icy clutch”.
But far from calming fears of devil’s coup,
The Presbet’ry’s suspicion only grew.
The Presbet’ry’s suspicion only grew
As I continued practicing my craft.
My prayerful, solemn words they’d misconstrue,
And scribe them as an evil, carnal draft.
“All kinds of ills that ever be, be gone!
Both more and less and all the mass - and stone!
And right the blood that reeked o’er truthful rood
Of forth and flesh and of the Earth and bone!”
By name of God and Christ, I conjure thee!
That binds and heals the sinew and the vein
That sin shall have no vex of malady
And cast away the putrid and profane.
As sabbats turn, and seasons changing tide,
Contrary winds would surely soon collide.
Contrary winds would surely soon collide
As James the Sixth’s ambition sought to claim
Dominion over witch or devil’s bride
Who’d threaten order o’er his vast domain.
On Hallows Eve the coven met, they say,
At Auld Kirk Green with witches dancing free.
Consorting with the devil fore the day
And sacrificed a cat to sink at sea.
By this I was arrested for the crime
Of witchcraft and a plot to sink the king
While sailing home with bride on seas sublime
Where ghastly winds and danger forth did bring.
Imprisoned now, in chains, awaiting fate
With torture’s looming fear yond prison gate.
With torture’s looming fear yond prison’s gate,
I steel myself for what may lie ahead.
With nerves alight, in silence here, I wait,
Consumed with ever growing sense of dread.
To dungeon cast where instruments of pain
Would tear my flesh and stab unto the bone.
Deprived of sleep, my thoughts became insane.
My will began to fade, my spirit flown.
Despite the searing pain and agony,
My innocence of evil, I maintained.
The torture did not break my sanity,
Until their searching left me unconstrained.
When privy mark of devil came to view,
Confessed, I did, declaring charges true.
Confessed, I did, declaring charges true,
And brought to trial swiftly on the morn.
I never would be spared from death, I knew,
When guilty I did plead, confession sworn.
At Holyrood the trial did commence
With charges read and evidence amassed.
No counsel did I keep, nor recompense
In predetermined manner, judgement passed.
Convicting witches demonstrates the might
Of King, despite perpetuating lies,
Regardless of the sin of claiming “right”
While wrongfully convicted person dies.
But such is true of Christian powerlust
That soon I’ll be returning to the dust.
That soon I’ll be returning to the dust
Is fear and anguish, tormenting my soul.
To die by execution as I must,
I pray that God will soon receive me whole.
The rope ‘round neck was drawn for bringing death,
Constricted, strangled, held to agonize
And suffocated wind and air and breath.
Asphyxiating into my demise.
With final, fading vision seeing flames,
My body, limp and hanging from the stake,
As fire consumes my flesh and fin’lly claims,
My life, my name, my truth, let none forsake.
A casualty of Christian wrathful toll,
May peace and truth beguide my wounded soul.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 11:41 AM UTC
A light
is struck
in highland heights,
and the vista
***** in
whispy smoke.
Tire-track clouds
distort, tickled
by the fleet
embrace of
such a
fickle vapour.
I pollute
clean air,
and lungs,
with my crime.
But
at the cusp
of mountain
and mist
I contemplate
home,
and how
I do not
miss it.
Not a bit.
My tongue
and senses sear,
and I,
at least,
am unclouded.
Jul 15, 2025
Jul 15, 2025 at 6:22 PM UTC
He sings wistfully
about a sheep, cow or goat --
sunk into the peat.
Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 3:57 AM UTC
Old and new, side by side,
always riding changing tides.
Ebb and flow, rise and fall,
topsy turvy times for all.
Old church clock strikes at noon,
a smartwatch plays a tune,
then and now we measure time —
see how our times seem to rhyme
Oct 21, 2024
Oct 21, 2024 at 9:40 AM UTC
Cross upon cross upon cross
were stacked to make the Union Jack
but with one saltire feeling salty
will Andy make Jack fade to black?
Oct 14, 2024
Oct 14, 2024 at 7:04 AM UTC
A-walking through stone Old Town streets
of Edinburgh lashed by wind and sleet,
I saw Tron Kirk tower ***** the sky —
she loosed great raindrops on passersby:
A handsome former city church,
by fickle faithful left in the lurch,
still called down tears of Scottish rain
and wept, but dreams she’ll rise again
Oct 10, 2024
Oct 10, 2024 at 4:49 PM UTC
Peering through a old stone gate,
its face well carved, in prayers attired,
I saw a golden wall of late
before which stood cracked streetlamps retired,
their warming light now long gone
yet they still glow stubbornly on
Oct 8, 2024
Oct 8, 2024 at 1:34 PM UTC
In an aisle of a great stone church
by flickering light of candles perched
under finials and arches tinged with gold,
flags fly for blood shed on fields of old:
They wave with wistful dreams of war
and tell of great esprit de corps
in a house made holy for a prince of peace
whose dreams of love they speak of least
Oct 8, 2024
Oct 8, 2024 at 1:29 PM UTC
In Scotland painters favor plaid
Though tartans are likely just a fad.
When dabbing on the wall
The hand can’t slant at all.
Glaswegians think diagonals bad.
May 16, 2024
May 16, 2024 at 5:45 PM UTC
TRANSLATIONS OF SCOTTISH POETS
These are my modern English translations of poems by the Scottish poets William Dunbar, Robert Burns, William Soutar and Hugh MacDiarmid.
Ballad
by William Soutar
translation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
O, surely you have seen my love
Down where the waters wind:
He walks like one who fears no man
And yet his eyes are kind!
O, surely you have seen my love
At the turning of the tide:
For then he gathers in his nets
Down by the waterside!
Yes, lassie we have seen your love
At the turning of the tide:
For he was with the fisher folk
Down by the waterside.
The fisher folk worked at their trade
No far from Walnut Grove:
They gathered in their dripping nets
And found your one true love!
The Watergaw
by Hugh MacDiarmid
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
One wet forenight in the sheep-shearing season
I saw the uncanniest thing—
a watergaw with its wavering light
shining beyond the wild downpour of rain
and I thought of the last wild look that you gave
when you knew you were destined for the grave.
There was no light in the skylark's nest
that night—no—nor any in mine;
but now often I've thought of that foolish light
and of these irrational hearts of men
and I think that, perhaps, at last I ken
what your look meant then.
Sweet Rose of Virtue
by William Dunbar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Sweet rose of virtue and of gentleness,
delightful lily of youthful wantonness,
richest in bounty and in beauty clear
and in every virtue men hold most dear―
except only that you are merciless.
Into your garden, today, I followed you;
there I saw flowers of freshest hue,
both white and red, delightful to see,
and wholesome herbs, waving resplendently―
yet nowhere one leaf nor petal of rue.
I fear that March with his last arctic blast
has slain my fair rose and left her downcast,
whose piteous death does my heart such pain
that I long to plant love's root again―
so comforting her bowering leaves have been.
If the tenth line seems confusing, it helps to know that rue symbolizes pity and also has medicinal uses; thus I believe the unrequiting lover is being accused of a lack of compassion and perhaps of withholding her healing attentions. The penultimate line can be taken as a rather naughty double entendre, but I will leave that interpretation up to the reader! 'Sweet Rose of Virtue' has been described as a 'lovely, elegant poem in the amour courtois tradition' or courtly love tradition. According to Tom Scott, author of 'Dunbar: A Critical Exposition of the Poems, ' this poem is 'Dunbar's most perfect lyric, and one of the supreme lyrics in Scots and English.' William Dunbar [c.1460-1530] has been called the Poet Laureate of the court of King James IV of Scotland.
Lament for the Makaris [Makers, or Poets]
by William Dunbar
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
i who enjoyed good health and gladness
am overwhelmed now by life's terrible sickness
and enfeebled with infirmity...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
our presence here is mere vainglory;
the false world is but transitory;
the flesh is frail; the Fiend runs free...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
the state of man is changeable:
now sound, now sick, now blithe, now dull,
now manic, now devoid of glee...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
no state on earth stands here securely;
as the wild wind shakes the willow tree,
so wavers this world's vanity...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
Death leads the knights into the field
(unarmored under helm and shield)
sole Victor of each red mêlée...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
that strange, despotic Beast
tears from its mother's breast
the babe, full of benignity...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
He takes the champion of the hour,
the captain of the highest tower,
the beautiful damsel in her tower...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
He spares no lord for his elegance,
nor clerk for his intelligence;
His dreadful stroke no man can flee...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
artist, magician, scientist,
orator, debater, theologist,
must all conclude, so too, as we:
'how the fear of Death dismays me! '
in medicine the most astute
sawbones and surgeons all fall mute;
they cannot save themselves, or flee...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
i see the Makers among the unsaved;
the greatest of Poets all go to the grave;
He does not spare them their faculty...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
i have seen Him pitilessly devour
our noble Chaucer, poetry's flower,
and Lydgate and Gower (great Trinity!) ...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
since He has taken my brothers all,
i know He will not let me live past the fall;
His next prey will be — poor unfortunate me! ...
how the fear of Death dismays me!
there is no remedy for Death;
we all must prepare to relinquish breath
so that after we die, we may be set free
from 'the fear of Death dismays me! '
Comin Thro the Rye
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Oh, Jenny's all wet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry;
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.
Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.
Should a body meet a body
Comin' through the rye,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need anybody cry?
Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.
Should a body meet a body
Comin' through the glen,
Should a body kiss a body,
Need all the world know, then?
Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin' through the rye.
She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin' through the rye.
To a Mouse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Sleek, tiny, timorous, cowering beast,
why's such panic in your breast?
Why dash away, so quick, so rash,
in a frenzied flash
when I would be loath to pursue you
with a murderous plowstaff!
I'm truly sorry Man's dominion
has broken Nature's social union,
and justifies that bad opinion
which makes you startle,
when I'm your poor, earth-born companion
and fellow mortal!
I have no doubt you sometimes thieve;
What of it, friend? You too must live!
A random corn-ear in a shock's
a small behest; it-
'll give me a blessing to know such a loss;
I'll never miss it!
Your tiny house lies in a ruin,
its fragile walls wind-rent and strewn!
Now nothing's left to construct you a new one
of mosses green
since bleak December's winds, ensuing,
blow fast and keen!
You saw your fields laid bare and waste
with weary winter closing fast,
and cozy here, beneath the blast,
you thought to dwell,
till crash! the cruel iron ploughshare passed
straight through your cell!
That flimsy heap of leaves and stubble
had cost you many a weary nibble!
Now you're turned out, for all your trouble,
less house and hold,
to endure cold winter's icy dribble
and hoarfrosts cold!
But mouse-friend, you are not alone
in proving foresight may be vain:
the best-laid schemes of Mice and Men
go oft awry,
and leave us only grief and pain,
for promised joy!
Still, friend, you're blessed compared with me!
Only present dangers make you flee:
But, ouch! , behind me I can see
grim prospects drear!
While forward-looking seers, we
humans guess and fear!
To a Louse
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Hey! Where're you going, you crawling hair-fly?
Your impudence protects you, barely;
I can only say that you swagger rarely
Over gauze and lace.
Though faith! I fear you dine but sparely
In such a place.
You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunned by both saint and sinner,
How dare you set your feet upon her—
So fine a lady!
Go somewhere else to seek your dinner
On some poor body.
Off! around some beggar's temple shamble:
There you may creep, and sprawl, and scramble,
With other kindred, jumping cattle,
In shoals and nations;
Where horn nor bone never dare unsettle
Your thick plantations.
Now hold you there! You're out of sight,
Below the folderols, snug and tight;
No, faith just yet! You'll not be right,
Till you've got on it:
The very topmost, towering height
Of miss's bonnet.
My word! right bold you root, contrary,
As plump and gray as any gooseberry.
Oh, for some rank, mercurial resin,
Or dread red poison;
I'd give you such a hearty dose, flea,
It'd dress your noggin!
I wouldn't be surprised to spy
You on some housewife's flannel tie:
Or maybe on some ragged boy's
Pale undervest;
But Miss's finest bonnet! Fie!
How dare you jest?
Oh Jenny, do not toss your head,
And lash your lovely braids abroad!
You hardly know what cursed speed
The creature's making!
Those winks and finger-ends, I dread,
Are notice-taking!
O would some Power with vision teach us
To see ourselves as others see us!
It would from many a blunder free us,
And foolish notions:
What airs in dress and carriage would leave us,
And even devotion!
Auld Lang Syne
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to mind?
Should old acquaintance be forgot,
And days for which we pine?
For times we shared, my darling,
Days passed, once yours and mine,
We'll raise a cup of kindness yet,
To those fond-remembered times!
Have you ever wondered just exactly what you're singing? 'Auld lang syne' means something like 'times gone by' or 'times long since passed' and in the context of the song means something like 'times long since passed that we shared together and now remember fondly.' In my translation, which is not word-for-word, I try to communicate what I believe Burns was trying to communicate: raising a toast to fond recollections of times shared in the past.
Banks of Doon
by Robert Burns
translation/interpretation/modernization by Michael R. Burch
Oh, banks and hills of lovely Doon,
How can you bloom so fresh and fair;
How can you chant, diminutive birds,
When I'm so weary, full of care!
You'll break my heart, small warblers,
Flittering through the flowering thorn:
Reminding me of long-lost joys,
Departed—never to return!
I've often wandered lovely Doon,
To see the rose and woodbine twine;
And as the lark sang of its love,
Just as fondly, I sang of mine.
Then gaily-hearted I plucked a rose,
So fragrant upon its thorny tree;
And my false lover stole my rose,
But, ah! , he left the thorn in me.
The poem 'Comin Thro the Rye' by Robert Burns may be best-known today because of Holden Caulfield's misinterpretation of it in The Catcher in the Rye. In the book, Caulfield relates his fantasy to his sister, Phoebe: he's the 'catcher in the rye, ' rescuing children from falling from a cliff. Phoebe corrects him, pointing out that poem is not about a 'catcher' in the rye, but about a girl who has met someone in the rye for a kiss (or more) , got her underclothes wet (not for the first time) , and is dragging her way back to a polite (i.e., Puritanical) society that despises girls who are 'easy.' Robert Burns, an honest man, was exhibiting empathy for girls who were castigated for doing what all the boys and men longed to do themselves.
Comin Thro the Rye
by Robert Burns
modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
O, Jenny's a' weet, poor body, // Oh, Jenny's all wet, poor body,
Jenny's seldom dry; // Jenny's seldom dry;
She draigl't a' her petticoattie // She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin thro' the rye. // Comin' through the rye.
Comin thro the rye, poor body, // Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin thro the rye, // Comin' through the rye.
She draigl't a'her petticoatie, // She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin thro the rye! // Comin' through the rye.
Gin a body meet a body // Should a body meet a body
Comin thro the rye, // Comin' through the rye,
Gin a body kiss a body, // Should a body kiss a body,
Need a body cry? // Need anybody cry?
Comin thro the rye, poor body, // Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin thro the rye, // Comin' through the rye.
She draigl't a'her petticoatie, // She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin thro the rye! // Comin' through the rye.
Gin a body meet a body // Should a body meet a body
Comin thro the glen, // Comin' through the glen,
Gin a body kiss a body, // Should a body kiss a body,
Need the warld ken? // Need all the world know, then?
Comin thro the rye, poor body, // Comin' through the rye, poor body,
Comin thro the rye, // Comin' through the rye.
She draigl't a'her petticoatie, // She's draggin' all her petticoats
Comin thro the rye! // Comin' through the rye.
A Red, Red Rose
by Robert Burns
modern English translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Oh my luve is like a red, red rose // Oh, my love is like a red, red rose
That's newly sprung in June: // that's newly sprung in June
Oh my luve is like the melodie // and my love is like the melody
That's sweetly play'd in tune. // that's sweetly played in tune.
As fair art thou, my bonie lass, // And you're so fair, my lovely lass,
So deep in luve am I; // and so deep in love am I,
And I will luve thee still, my dear, // that I will love you still, my dear,
Till a' the seas gang dry. // till all the seas run dry.
Till a' the seas gang dry, my dear, // Till all the seas run dry, my dear,
And the rocks melt wi' the sun; // and the rocks melt with the sun!
And I will luve thee still, my dear, // And I will love you still, my dear,
While the sands o' life shall run. // while the sands of life shall run.
And fare thee weel, my only luve! // And fare you well, my only love!
And fare thee weel a while! // And fare you well, awhile!
And I will come again, my luve, // And I will come again, my love,
Tho' it were ten thousand mile! // though it were ten thousand miles!
Keywords/Tags: Scot, Scotland, Scottish poem, modern English translation, translations, Robert Burns, William Dunbar, William Soutar, Hugh MacDiarmid
Apr 1, 2023
Apr 1, 2023 at 4:25 AM UTC
It’s before nine. I have another chilled hour
before the Swallow cafe opens for cooked breakfast
and a day before the family funeral.
The sky is clear to the east, but further north
there’s pre-spun wool resting lightly on the hills,
heavy with possibility and miles from home.
Dec 14, 2022
Dec 14, 2022 at 5:00 PM UTC
The rain drizzles slowly down
And all is calm and still
Even the wind holding its breath
For the Piper on the hill.
As the clans have done for age
Tall and proud they stand
As the pipes begin to skirl
And music fills the land.
The world marches ever on
Beyond loch and beinn and sea
But here high above the glen
The Piper remains free.
All through the rain
The world around them still
For there can be no joy greater
For the Piper on the hill.
Sep 18, 2022
Sep 18, 2022 at 12:14 PM UTC
Hwenne, och! slawlie IT, an’ unco Licht!
Afoyr th' wounded frae Lyife Ghaist-Ancestors,
At Calanais Stane Sirkill Auld, an’ Verra IT, Micht!
Wae th' Lost ay! o'er Deep Tyme Unforgivin’,
Hidden Bleezan ay, Sacrificial Rite at Myrk Nicht!
Th' Stowed Oot Moon Conquerin’ rayses IT, tae mee!
Amydde Thae Verra Bluish, cannae nowe ye a' see?
Cauld Cluds ay flashin', an' Verra Thay A' Hye!
Ainlie, ainlie Raw Rid Bridie sloch Ah!
NVNC RVBRA CLARO FVLMINE REFVLGENS LVNA
QVIA REDACTA EST AD FVLGOREM RES RVBRA
TOTALITER INTRA SACRVM CIRCVLVS VICTRIX MIHI
VBI REX INVICTVS AC MAXIME VLTOR OVERMAN
RVBRO LAPIDI CVM MAGNO NECNON PHANTASMATE
ALTA HIC FLAMMA POTENTER ADVENIT RVBRA.
Feb 11, 2022
Feb 11, 2022 at 5:11 AM UTC
ÆFRE SWĀ DÆGES, ĪSERNUM-BORDHREÓÐUM
GRYRELÉOÐ OND HLÉOÞCWIDE SWĀ!
FÉÐEWÍGUM SĒ EFTCYME! SWĀ SĒ WIELM BLŌD!
Thae Verra Wordis o' Battle Auld! an' Verra Prelude War-Hye o' mine!
Tae ye a' ageyne tell Ah! afor yondir Forgotten Myrk Whunstane!
Fore cannae ye a' see? frae ma Verra Vision, Thais Immortal Battle-Landis,
Fore let mee Thais War-Sange, ne'er tae e'er, wi'in Anie Quiet Loch, wane!
Nowe ageyne, weall! thro' Hye-Boilin' Steel-Bluid Eternal Ȝell:
Cauld an' Feudal Battle-Yeir, Sacral o' mine A.D. MXVII hynne!
Let mee weall, weall! stick-an-stowe intae Thais Deep Past Bluid-Fyre,
O'er Thais Hoat Airn, ma Guid Auld Swaird Feathfull!
Ays a Distinct War-Vision Ah nowe stylle see! unco radiatin',
Dogydder wae Thad Bygane Shower o' Arrows nowe ay War-Invisible:
MĪN HEAÐUWÆD!
An' afore Thae Hye Lowes! ma Stane-Hearth, nowe hynne remember,
Fore ageyne! ay maun nowe Thais Bluid-Vision o' mine tallid unco Ah!
Ays Supreme Fyre-Wylle! o'er an' 'yont th' Cauld Lang Hame,
Meanie Feudal Towmonts ago, hynne, wae ma Airn-Wame,
An' th' War-Mask o'er ma Swaird-Cut Cheek Bane
Unco haiwin', a Feudal Rebel an' Wulde Brooch-Wearer, Ah!
DOLHWUND OND BORDRANDE,
EFT WLWULF SWIÞE WÆS IC!
Intae CARHAM'S BATTLE MAYHEM AULD! an' th' Scyld-Horror
Ne'er, IT! thro' th' Murky Moorlan Nicht tae unco wane!
Wae ITS Open Jaws, an' Het Braith, an' Whyte Teeth Dazzlin',
Thro' Thoosan Cries Norland an' Clashes Micht hynne!
Frae Thoosan Battle-Scheldes unco Wooden-Colorful Thay A'!
BORDWUDA MĪN HRÍÐ,
Across yondir Scyld-Wauch found masell hynne Ah!
Verra, Verra Guid Vision! Verra, Verra Guid Wunner!
NORÐÞUNRES SCIELDWEALL,
An' th' Steel-Spirit, verra Gleamin' IT unco haiwin'
Thad deep thro' ma Battle-Veins in Deep Moorlan Gore,
Yondir! o'er Thae Blacklyn Hylles, wae ma Guid Claymore-Lore:
LĪEĠÞRACUM NÆGLING!
Ays a Storne Micht! Þenne an' nowe stylle unco flowed,
Hwenne, IT! Great Þunor's an' Bauds' Warlike Orrah!
Th' Daye-Luminarie at ITS Zenith-Trune Sacral,
Verra, Verra Hye IT! waes, wae Rid Lowes Invincible
In nae, nae hynne! Hye Skye-Agony dwellin':
ĒACEN DÆGSCIELD,
Invisible, IT! intae Thae Deep Cauld Norland Skyes
Whare Thais Sunne! allwayes unco owre Wee,
O'er Thais Horizon Harsh an' Warlike an' Dreary
Wae Fiery Skye-Dignity Primordial unco rules,
Hwenne, IT! weall, weall Ah nowe stylle in Fyre Thad see!
STĪELENE GLYDERING,
Great Kvaysir's Orrah! th' Swaird-Hurt Schawdu!
HYS Ghastly Apparition o'er Whin-Rock devastatingly makyt
Wae HYS Bluid Mirk! downe, downe! descendin',
Hwenne, IT! ****** Hel's Guid Battle Orrah!
Th' Enraged Ocean spake nae, nae IT laanger!
OFERȲÞUM BRIMRAD,
Wae HYS Whispered Woirds o' War intae HYS Storne Rageful,
Hwenne hynne, at length IT! Airn an' Guid Thundir's Orrah!
Th' Gore Sacrificial o' thoosan enemies o' mine!
Quhame faced a' Ah! th' Lone Wolf-Feeder! ay nae Age-Worn!
Wae ma War-Blade Dearest, THOROLF GIED called:
DYNGES BEADULÉOMA!
Red-Boilin' IT becam! an' frae Cauld Horizon tae Cauld Horizon extendin',
An' Þenne a Vortex Feudal o' Coagulatin' Energy Micht!
Indistinguishable frae thais Battle-Mass frae Auld Carham,
A LONE CRIMSON WAR-FIGURE UNCO MICHT
WAE THAIS BOILIN' BLUID BATTLE-SACRIFICIAL
UNCO! IN WAR-GORE PERENNIAL MAKYT!
FRAE THAIS CAULD PROWID BATTLE-LANDIS
O'ER A'! TAE TH' WOUNDED SKYES HYE SOARIN'
WHA'S FEUDAL NAIM GORY, TH' OWAR-MANN!
AYS WYLLE O' MINE BLUID-INCARNATED!
FRAE DEEP TH' BYGANE, TOWARDIS YONDIR FUTURE,
NOWE AFORE MINE SCARS O' WAR WAES
O'ER AN' O'ER, GUID BRUNANBURH'S ORRAH!
TAE MEE! WAE MA SOLITARYE VISION
WAR-BLINDED UNCO RETURNIN',
Weall Ah hynne remember! An' nowe play mair, mair for mee!
Yer Steel-Lyre Auld Wise! Fore Ah e'en mair distinctly see!
Thro' Wreaths o' Bluid-Vapor Sacrificial, th' Heat o' th' Strywe!
Theare cam forth, Ah say, an' TH' THYNGE! soared, unco free,
HEAHÞRYM OND DRĒOR-HÉAHSÆ,
O'er Thais Swaird-Encounter an' a' th' fallen afore mine eyes,
Bye wha's Naim neither Ullr in Airn Enraged hynne,
Nor Kvaysir Micht! nor Auld Vargs Unda gleamin'
Nor o' Hôm Loga Himna Hye! waes IT called,
An' IT swayed nae, o'er th' Battle-Mass Gory!
CAMPWÍGES CWEALMDRÉOR,
Nor thro' HYS Feudal Bluid soarin', IT spake in any Battle-Ȝell,
An' theare IT unco remained! o'er Thais Perennial o' mine Swaird-Hel:
MĪN GEMYNDIG GIET ÞUNRODE!
Wha's HYS ROUND SCYLD O' WAR held hye! towardis th' Sunne!
A Continual Lowe o' Dense Fyre hynne a' gatherin', an' a
Luminous Rain frae th' Zenith-Sunne Invisible, thad waes IT
WAE REASON THUNDIR-FORCE A' STEERIN',
DAZZLIN' LIGHTNIN' PERENNIAL A' CONQUERIN',
TAE TH' INFINITE ITS WAR-BLUID INCREASIN',
O'ER TH' SCYLD O' TH' OWAR-MANN
AYS A FYRE-RAY AN' MICHT STAR FLASHIN',
AN' IN FEUDAL AIRN DWELLIN',
Hwenne! HYS Substance frae Bluid Sacrificial intae Gleamin' Steel turned,
Thro' Loud Cries frae th' Battle thad stylle heard Ah:
WULFUM BEARHTM!
Stylle Liquid Metal o' War Dazzlin'! Feudal Wapin Formidable!
Weaponized Airn-Soul Fetch'in-Micht o' mine!
Wha's naim, in loud cries stylle! ays a BLINDIN' STAR O' WAR SUPREME,
HEOFONSTEORRA-GEBYLD,
Frae th' Remote Zone Mirk o' th' Luminous Skye nowe appearin'
Waes! Þenne Distinct a Titan Steel-Colossal IT becam,
Whileas Thae Auld Woirds o' War Whispered Thay!
BLÓDWRACU,
Wee, ewyre-remembered, an' nae at a' Damnable Thay!
Thad winna Thay a' ne'er, ne'er fade awa! stylle
Wi'in ear o' mine thro' th' Whooshin' Wynde
An' o'er th' whole Kintra rulin', stick-an'-stowe felt Ah:
ENDELĒAS MANFULTUM OND MÆGENÞISE
MĪN GEWILL ÆT SĒ ŌFER-MANN BIÞ,
FORWEARD OND ÆGHWÆR STÍELE SWĀ,
ÞA ÍSENWYRHTAN SĒ ŌFER-MANN,
Th' Frame! The Verra Frame o' Hye Conquerin' Steel-Feudal!
Frae yondir Norþan-hymbre auld an' verra colorful!
Wae th' War-Blade Bleezan intae deep Thais Battle-Storne,
Th' Scarred in th' Cheek! th' Lone Scyld-Fighter:
BORDHREÓÐAN SCEADUGENGA OND WRECEND!
Nowe unco! Great Orrah! o' Soarin' War-Airn Empowered!
Wi'in Thoosan Hye Skye-Clashes! Wi'in Thoosan Onslaughts, A' Rairan o' mine!
Tae nowe in Airn schawe ye a'! HYE HEL:
EFTWYRD-GEWILL OND ÆLÍFES GEWIDERE,
MĪN HEOFONFYRE WÆPENÞRACU!
NU LÍGETSLIEHTUM SĒ ÞEGN,
SWĀ STÍELE ĒACEN SĒ ŌFER-MANN,
Frae th' Bygane ays allwayis a Blank intae th' Gore dabbed,
Towardis th' Future ays allwayis a Dangerus Landis!
Whare th' cowardly enemies allwayis lurk an' await:
BEADOLEÓMAN UNWEORÐE!
Th' same wae TH' WYLLE TAE TH' HYE OVERMAN waes!
Richte Nowe! Thais Steel-Titan Micht afore mine eyes
O'er th' corpses o' th' fallen an' intae th' Core-Fyre Sacrificial
Thad HYS SOLAR SCYLD held hye! stylle receivin' IT waes:
AHWÆR OND BALDLICE,
EFT HEAÐUSIGLES ÁNWÍG,
Fore willin' th' Bygane ays IT haes bin in th' Overman Hye!
Th' future ays empowered in HYS Feudal Person waes tae,
Fore Willin' waes, IT! willin' th' Person o' Overman alone!
Lyke a Verra Destination Tangible o' mine, IT!
Intae thais Colossus o' Battle-Gore boilin' ays Cast Steel, Thad Wylle!
ÞYRSUM HEAÐUWÆD,
Thad th' Rational Firey Ah say, Continuum o' Lowes waes IT haudin!
Wpon th' Scyld o'er an' o'er Flashin' IT, hynne Steel-Crucial!
Increasin' IT! ITS Force Micht an' the Ray! tae th' Endless Skye!
An' th' Frame! Th' Verra Noble Frame IRONCLAD-FEUDAL!
AD ALTA SIDERA INVICTO METALLO
NUPER SUPREMUM ARTIFICIUM BELLI
FLAMMISQUE CORPUS EXTRAMUNDANUM
QUOD GEWILL OVERMAN NUNC NOMINATUR
ERIT FERRO MAGNO SANGUINEQUE ET SCUTO
IN PROELIO APUD CAMPUM CARHAM
RUBRA VEXILLA REDITUS IGNEA SPIRAQUE
INVICTO METALLO VOLUNTAS MEA,
Fore, ageyne! Beguid Great, Great Orrah!
Th' willin' Ane Thynge waes! wae Thais Steel-Titan O'erhuman!
Thad GEWILL OVERMAN o'er Carham's Gory Landis waes IT called Auld:
SWEOLUNGA OND ÆLINGUM SWIÞE SWĀ!
ÞÆR MĪN GLOWENDE-ÆDREGEARD ĀRĀS,
Fore, ageyne! Great Glamis' Wae Orrah!
Willin' backiewards th' Bygane ays IT allwayis in Gore haes bin,
Waes IT! willin'th' Overman ays nae laanger a Blank an' a War-Cauld:
HEÁFODWYLME OND SWEOLOÐAN HLEO!
Fore, ageyne! Þunores Fair an' Wounded Orrah!
Willin' th' Bygane ays Want o' Pow'r waes willin' th' future ays Pow'r,
Intae th' Verra Steel-Person o' Thais O'erhuman Steel-Avenger untold:
SĒ ĪSERN-HEREWÆÐA,
Fore, ageyne! Dagur's Guid Orrah o' mine!
Willin' backiewards intae th' Tyme Irreversible, hynne unco Unforgivin' IT!
Waes IT! willin' th' future ays Skye-Empowered nowe!
Intae th' Person o' th' Overman Thais Steel-Titan o'er th' Scyld-Wa Micht,
Thro' th' Spiral-Continuum thad Becomin' ays Increase in Pow'r waes:
TH' SEL-RETURNIN' RAY CONDENSATIN' FYRE-JOYFUL:
FULLMÆGENES BRYNELEÓMA,
WPON TH' COLOSSAL SCYLD HELD IT, wae th' arm VERRA HYE!
Fore ageyne! Devastatin' frae Cauld Thule Orrah!
Th' bygane intae th' Airn-Person o' th' Overman ays IT haes bin!
Must be IT willed! Fore thus different IT shall agyne be!
Ays empow'red intae th' Central an' unco Firey-Abysmal IT,
An' wae Rid Lowes hynne Rid! Return o' Pow'r Event:
BÆLÞRACE WUDUROSE!
Firm Thynge! an' Verra Core wi'in continual Becomin' ays Pow'r,
Fore, ageyne! Thoosan Thundirs' Skye-Orrah!
Tae affirm Lyife tae affirm th' OVERMAN nesisarie IT waes!
Ays Wylle Superior, hynne True Wylle IT provin'!
Ma Final Inner Strength! Ma Ultimate Inner Vision!
ÞUNORUM OND BEADWE GRYRELÉOÐE,
MĪN WIGSIGOR-GESIHÐNES HLÍFEDE!
Thad ainlie Thais Steel-Jǫtunn o' War cannae, wi'in Battle-Lowes Hye!
Across Auld Carham's Colorful, verra Colorful Scyld Wa Micht nae be!
BREIÐØX-DRENGR ÆN ATGANGA!
Frae th' Past allwayis bleedin'! intae th' Future allwayis Dangerus!
An' nae for a' wi'in th' Great Spiral o' Strife, o'er th' Battlefield
Ah nowe stylle see, Thais Steel-Spirit unco waes!
ÁGLÆCAN WUNDORSÉON, HĀL!
NU MĪN FEORHBOLD BRǢDEÞ SWIÞE,
RANDWÍGA WÆS IC! SĒ BISENE WRECEND!
SWURD ON HANDA! HEORU-DRĒORE NACOD!
HILDE-GRĪMAN! RÝNE STÍELE OND CRÆFTUM
BEADU WÆPEN, BRYNEWELMES STÁNTORR,
HEAÐUWYLME OND STIELE SWĀ,
GEWILL ÆT SĒ ŌFER-MANN HÂTEN,
Þenne, och! Great Guid Orrah! Tae nae mere War-Legend nowe fullefylle!
Let mee ma Vision lastly recollect! THRIE SKYE-GLOBES O' SKYE-FYRE Fwlle!
Tae ma Battle-Scarred Sight appeared out-owre th' Conquerin' Sunne!
Intimately blended Thay A'! intae Thais Soarin' Metal-Fusion Gleamin' stylle:
TH' OVERMAN! AN' TH' BEIN' AYS POW'R, unco Magnificent Thynge!
AN' TH' RETURN AYS INCREASE IN POW'R! a Reingȝe formin' o'er yondir Hylle!
Flashin' A' Thay! wae Thais STEEL-TITAN ays hynne ma Verra Guid Battle-Wylle!
GEGYLDEN HRINCG GEWILLE!
Feb 10, 2022
Feb 10, 2022 at 4:46 AM UTC
They tell of a land to the North
with misted valley's and of glen
Where red deer wild roam
as they make splash upon the fen.
Strong and hardy is the stock,
many with deep red hair,
Raised from their day of birth,
on naught but deep fried fare.
Custom demands of each a thrift,
and preservation of everything,
this all born out on coinage in pocket,
bearing the head of the last king.
They are true a hardy race,
of this many can contend,
and rumours abound all over,
of them tossing trees end on end.
So too there are tales of a legend,
that gives some despair to the soul.
that they smack a ball all over hillsides
until it falls into a wee hole.
Cultural music is a strong tradition.
and dance often accompanies that,
with much joy and merry festivity
to sound of someone neutering a cat.
An ancient tongue they sometimes speak
that gives cause to a certain lilt.
But ire them not for revenge is sweet
as they turn backs and raise their kilt.
Aug 26, 2021
Aug 26, 2021 at 9:16 AM UTC