1.Carousel
A birlin meal is ordnar in Beijing
The carousel is stapped wi bowls o rice
A chef, gouned like a surgeon, fully masked
Haggers a Peking dyeuk, wi mainners, nice
A muckle carp lies sprauchled on the brods
Its heid, tail, fins left on for aa tae see
I dinna like its twa unchancy een
The nesty wye it seems tae glower at me
Its wyme is fu o banes…a booby trap
Tae cleuk yer thrapple. An fit’s even waur
Its open moo seems ettlin tae spik
Alang the lines o ‘Eat me gin ye daur.’
The charnel-hoose o breets, in butcher’s yairds
Is miles awa frae superstore an plate
I’ll chaw awa at meat dressed frae the fridge
I canna swallae killin fin it’s hett
2.The Muckle Waa o Cheena at the Mutianyu section
The Chinese waa is big an braa
Tholes win an snaa, an thon is aa
I can recaa. Some heid-the-baa
Thocht we cud try an wauk it aa
I’m nae sae feel as try…Na, na
I’d bite aff mair than I cud chaa
Thon dyke far Heiven’s breezes blaa
I photied it, syne cried `ta ta’
3.Massage
Six towrists at a time they takk
Tae dunt an rummle, knead an shakk
The creashie faulds o furreign flesh
An, like pink littlins in a crèche
We sigh an turn fin telt, as they
Smeeth aff the runkles o the day
Syne, suppin luewarm, yalla tea
Pye peanuts fur tranquility
7.Lang-Shanks
In the Muslim merket o X’ian
A cricket in a teenie wicker cage
Canna neither turn nor lowp
Let alane growe
It rubs its shanks thegither
Tryin tae kinnle a lowe
8.Owersetts o English translations o Three Chinese Poets
Autumn Nichtfaa at my Airt in the Knowes: Wang Wei (Buddhist,701-762)
In the teem Bens, efter new-faan rain
A glisk o Faa comes wi the air o gloamin
The meen is bricht an glimmers atween the pines
Abeen the steens the sping-fed burn rins caller.
Bamboos reeshle: washerwives gyang hame.
Lotuses steer: fishin boats meeve alang.
Bi its ain will, the scent o Spring has gaen.
Bit ye, o best o friens, of course maun bide.
Speirin an Makkin Repon in the Bens: Li Bai(Taoist,701-761)
They speir foo I choose tae bide in the green Bens
My hairt is calm. I smile, mak nae repon;
Peach blossoms float awa, leave nocht ahin¬
There is nae ither yird nur lift than thon.
Thochts on Traivellin at Nicht: (Confucian scholar, Du Fu: 712-770)
Licht breeze on the fine girse.
I staun alane at the mast.
Starnies lean on the skelp o braid flat yird
Meen shogs in the muckle river’s spate
Letters hae brocht nae fame.
Office? Ower auld tae win.
Driftin, fit am I like?
A gull atween yird an Heivens.
Meenlicht Nicht: (Confucian scholar, Du Fu: 712-770)
In Fuzhou, hyne awa, my wife is watchin
The meen aleen this nicht, my harns are fu
Wi sorra for my bairns, fa canna think
0 me here in Changan; they’re ower wee still.
Her cloud-saft hair is weet wi scentit mist
In the clear Licht her fite airms ken the chill.
Fan will we feel the meenlicht dry oor tears,
Leanin thegither on oor windae-sill?
9.The Chorer
A Castlegate seagull caa’d Sam
As a treat, thinks Doritos are gran
Fin he’s wintin a snack
He jist hi-jacks a pack
Fin he fancies a bittie o scran
He plaps in the shop for the snatch
And he by-passes queues wi his catch
I’ve met him masel, and ye niver could tell
By his luiks he’s a crisp-liftin vratch
Oh, gull that comes in frae the haar
The Arts Centre could help ye gae far
Top bill for a week, wi yer flair an yer beak
In Bugsy Malone, as the Star
10.The Thorn Buss
The Brus lies in Dunfermine kirk
Rowed in claith o gowd
Lord Elgin’s merble at his heid
A King frae tap tae shroud
Ootbye, a wizened thorn buss
Leans ower an unmarked grave
The lass that bore the Wallace
Lies forgotten wi the lave
The breist-milk o the mither wolf
Gaed Rome its virr an pouer
The seedbed o Scots liberty
Lies hummle in thon stoor
The Brus lies in Dunfermline kirk
Braw kist wi braiss plate tapped
The thorn buss stauns ower Freedom’s dam
Her heid’s wi green girse happed
12.A Welcome to Hector Anderson: Born May 10th 2007
Welcome tae ye bonnie loon
Born in Mey, the month o bloom
In the makkin o yer tune
Huntly an Kincraigie
Hector may yer life may lang
Niver scarce o luv an sang
Sweet’s the wells frae far ye sprang
Tarlan Burn an Bogie
Stinch, the meanin o yer name
Soople hauns an soople frame
Noo ye’ve made a hoose a hame
Blythesome, fiddlers’ laddie
Like Strathbogie’s staunin steens
Ye’ll hae smeddum in yer beens
Chikks as reid’s the Simmer geans
Roon Cromar an Drummy
Fitna road yer fit may takk
Peace an joy be in yer pack
May ye niver fortune lack
Far the wins may blaw ye
Here’s yer health! Swack may ye grow
Like the rosit on the bowe
May yer tribbles as be fyew
Andersons’ new babbie!
13.The Nicolaisen Sang: tune: Geordie Weir For Professor Wilhelm Nicolaisen
I’m a weel-kent professor and Wilhelm’s ma name
Research intae folklore an place is ma game
I can spikk aboot petroglyphs, Ogham an Picts
Ethnology, culture, an onomastics
I’ve faithered fower dothers, I’ve got strang DNA
The quines they aa bide in Americay
There’s three generations, as this wis my plan
Tae breed Nicolaisens an widen the clan
My office is nae in a cubbyhole flair
I’m on the 9th storey, on a penthoose stair
As I screive up treatises at my windae sill
A seagull is dichtin its dowp wi its bill
I’ve traivelled the warld like a Romany cheil
Frae Tubinham, Glesga, Binghamton as weel
Ohio an Aarhus, an Embro I’ve seen
I’m a kenspeckle figure in Auld Aiberdeen.
In oral traditions there’s fyew that can beat
Me in flushin fowk narratives ooto the street
Afore ye can say ‘Ecclefechen’ ye’ll see
Me plantin its reets in a new glossary
The year I wis born Linbergh flew tae Paree
Show Boat wis staged at a Broadway soiree
There wis earthquakes, an floods an a solar eclipse
There wis veesits frae aliens an sinkin o ships
Urban myths I hae read, fegs ma study is stooked
Wi tales aboot Santas in lums, fa were cooked
An monkey-meat sannies they eat in the Hague
An poodles exploding in fowks’ microwaves
Syne there’s thon polar beastie, fa eats, sheets an leaves
Alligators doon sewers, New Yorkers believes
Are pets flushed doon lavvies…tho here’s ane that’s real
The best urban myth is that research pyes weel
I’m a weel-kent professor and Wilhelm’s ma name
Research intae folklore an place is ma game
Ohio an Aarhus, an Embro I’ve seen
I’m a kenspeckle figure in Auld Aiberdeen.
14.Wells o Aiberdeen: for Lys Wyness
The Hardgate, the Well o Spa, the Castlegate, the Corbie
St Mary’s Well, the Angel Well, served common fowk an lairdly
The Thieves Brig, the Dyer’s Well, stude lang in Aiberdeen
The Carden and the Fidler’s Well, brocht watter sweet and clean
The Well spring bi Netherton, the Well o Steenywid,
St Fittick’s Well, the Lady’s Well- tae droothy fowk, foo guid!
Auld Wells at Kittybrewster, Fountainhaa, the Chanonry
The Firhill, the Quaker Well, St. John’s, the Chaplaincy
St. Mary’s Chapel, Fettes’ Well, the Tony battery
They slaiked the drooth o shelt an man ower mony’s the century.
The Bishop’s Palace Well wis braa, wi doocots ower at Seaton
The Well that served the Haimmermen hid waters cweel and weetin
The Crew Well, the Stroup Well, the Struick’s cheery chink
John Philip’s Well, the Kirkie’s Well…aa caller springs tae drink!
Noo watter’s piped tae ilkie hame, nae labour nott ava
Bit gin ye staun aside oor Wells, fa’s paths hae dwined awa….
Ye’ll mebbe hear the saftest sooch…a thochtie…naethin mair
0 lang-deid Aiberdonians come tae draw their watter there
15.Joseph’s Carol Hymn Tune: Oh Come o Come Immanuel. For Sheila Wheeler
Caesar sent sodjers roon wi a decree
That aa maun register. Frae Galilee
I traivelled wi ma wife by ma side
Near tae her time a young an tender bride
Nae scholar, I, frae Nazareth I cam,
A jyner o the tribe o Abraham
The road wis roch. Nae chaumer at the inn
The toon o Bethlehem a stoorie din
The bairnie in her wame, like a thorn
O flesh an bluid impatient tae be born.
The anely neuk, a yirdy cattle shed
Tae lay her doon upon the jizzen bed
Sae prood wis I tae showd my infant bairn
His perfect heid lay peacefu on my airm
The cuddy an the kyes’ company
The anely ithers yonner bit we three
Masel, my Mary, oor wee family,
wi Jesus, a domestic trinity.
Bit shepherds socht this littlin Mary bore
Fa vowed that Angels led them tae the door
An three wyce Kings frae hyne in the East
Booed doon wi reverence in ilkie briest
Gowd, incense, myrrh, sic precious gifts they brocht
Nae jyner’s son has iver kent nor socht
Nae scholar, I. Frae Nazareth I cam
A jyner o the tribe o Abraham
I’ll carve ye simple gear frae a tree
Grown frae the hummle stoor o Galilee
Fin Angels flap their gowden wings an sing
I plane the wid an gar the haimmer swing
Noo Mary sleeps bit wide awak I stare
An ordnar man wi a byordnar heir
Her life’s bin cheenged, is’t a gain or loss T
he Future that will bring her tae the cross
The littlin smiles. I takk his tiny haun
We twa are pairt o an Immortal plan
16. Scots Owersets o Buddhist Devotional Texts
(3.1)
I ken delicht that a pure bield’s bin bigged
Agin aa skaith bi ilkie thing alive
I ken delicht that aa things tholin wae
Hae bin set fair in blyther wyes tae thrive
(3.2- 3.3)
I ken delicht that karma’s wheel is stopped
This, bodhisattvas an the Buddhas won
I ken delicht that wyceness is a sea
An in aa dominies that add tae thon
(3.4-3.5)
In ilkie airt I praise the enlichtit anes
Fa’s darg lichts up the bywyes o bumbazement
I pray the victors sikkin nirvana
Bide on foraye, tae Licht the firmament
(3.6)
Haein dane thon, fin I hae dane it weel
Micht I syne kweel the waes o warlds’ thrang
(3.7)
Micht I be cure, physeecian, nurse likewise
Fur the ferfochen, tholin rebirth’s stang
(3.8)
Micht I ding doon the dule o thirst an wint
Drap as a shouer o watter an o food
(3.9)
Micht I be as a treisur kist fur aa
That suffer..be a servant fur their guid
(3.10- 3.11)
I set aside the pleisurs o the flesh
That aa things leevin I micht benefit
Nirvana is aff-castin ilkie thing
Tae this, I set my hairt, my heid, my fit
(3.12)
Kennin my weird’s tae dee, I set my sicht
Upon Nirvana. As a wheepin post
(3.13-3.14)
I’ll owergie aa I hae tae succour ithers
Thole scuds an cloors, an niver coont the cost
I carena fur ma wardly sel ava
Belittled, throoshed, befyled, tae me thon’s nocht
(3.15-3.16)
May aa their actions bring them anely guid
May my trysts ay yield meanin, socht, unsocht
Gin fowk fa tryst wi me hae angered thochts
Fin meetin wi me, herbour quanter musin
Gin they miscaa me, herm me in their wye `
Spite aa, micht lamps be lichtit in their reason
(3.17-21)
Oh I wad be a lamp tae licht the derk
I’d be a bed fur ony weariet randy
Oh I wad be a skiffy, far thon’s socht
A wishin gem, a reamin cup o plenty
Oh I wad be a fey, an eildritch, tree
Ane o the kye that aa things may desire
Oh I wad be a cure-aa, a strang spell
(Fur in the mapamound, naethin’s entire
Untae itsel.) An sae, I wad sustain
Ilkie last ane, till they their freedom gain.
17.Scots Owersett o a Prayer in Philp Astor of Tillypronie’s Family Memorial, Migvie Kirk
Ma corp is as grippit’s a cat, staukin its prey
Let ma corp be easy
Ma thochts furl like willas, wheeched in Samhain wins
Let ma thochts be quate
Ma sowel is as wechty’s peat, new-howked frae the bog
Let ma sowel be licht
Ma hairt is as derk’s the yird, weety wi winter rain
Let ma hairt be bricht
18.Simmer
The michty larick raxxes tae its faa
Twa hunner cheepers drap afore it dees
The bluebell crines..breem briers ahin the waa
In ilkie sheugh, the breenge o hairstin bees
Girse shakks its silken feathers.
Wi delicht a jibblin burn rins gluggerin doon the brae
The Ben shakks aff the dowie shawl o nicht
Even Daith wad banish dule on sic a day
Nae riches buy a gowden day like thon
The rose buss wytes fur sunlicht in its turn
The foonert hoolet haps her trauchelt heid
Ant reives the larder o the simmer’s horn
A stobby nettle bars the beetle’s path
A roundelay o swallas ring the trees
Hett dockens boo their backs in ecstasy
A muir-moch on a drainpipe takks her ease.
19.Dreich
Dreich, an the dowie Bens, dyew-drooked
Are doubly dooked in dreepin weet
That saftly deists the leaves, dird-dirdin doon,
A sma percussion trinklin an sweet
Throwe aa, the gowden bummers bizz is loud
Heistin the skirts o rhododendron buss
Smachrie o pollen skirpit on their backs
Their hinney hairst baith sonorous an gowd
The wheeplin lintie in the larick’s reist
Sings sonsier amids the runnels o rain
Treetlin doon an awa tae the lochan’s breist
Far leerichie-larachie waves cam reeshlin in
Weetin this warld o wattergaw an stane
Sic warlock-glisks fin greybeard Heivens greet!
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