View Full Version : Div Ye Mind
Bill Fernie
27-Jan-05, 16:55
Can anyone help me find the words to Caithness poem for aman in Canada whose mother came from Thurso. He recalls the first lines learned when he was young -
Div ye mind yon Caithness housie, wi its wee bit but and ben, a dougie sittin by a fire aside a cluckin' hen, div ye mind boy, eh, div ye mind.
I know it is a well known Caithness peome and have hear several renditions changed to suit particular contexts repeating the phrase Div Ye Mind. My school years wer ein Edinburgh so my knowledge of Caithness poetry is sketchy. If anyone can help I will let him know. Putting it on here would be great and I can transfer it into the poetry section. Date and author would also be helpful forme checking the copyright position.
Div ye mind yer Kaitness hoosie wi its wheezy but and ben,
A dowgie sleepin by e' fire, aside a clockin hen;
A dresser set wi bowlies, an a bandbox on a kist,
A cowgie fu o sooans, an' a stoolie wi' a list?
Div ye mind, boy Eh? Div ye mind?
Div' ye mind e' greasy grunter wi' his muckle flappan loogs,
An e' chuckens fechtin roond ye for e' sweelans o' e' moogs?
A slated blockie, on a bool, spread dryan in e sun,
While e duekies trail'd his heid-piece roond and roond e' byre for fun
Div ye mind, boy Eh? Div ye mind?
Div' ye mind e' Knotty Club wi its game and ragged band,
Fa's clubs wis bandaged kail-runs or anything at hand?
Noo and then a tae wis opened wi' a whistle fae e' ba',
An e' linin o' a pockad wis pit roond it wi' a straw.
Div ye mind, boy Eh? Div ye mind?
Div ye mind e' whitened lirkie wi' its mooldy, earthy scent,
An e' blinkin faces roond ye, tryan hard til look intent?
On e' blessed Bible pages, ye drew sheep and stirkies lean,
An ye cut initials in e' pew fan "Thirdly" shut his een.
Div ye mind, boy Eh? Div ye mind?
Div ye mind e' jolly schooldays fan ye trowed till play "Skyhigh"
And ye tumbled in a burnie, and skelpt aboot til dry?
Bit yir mithir spread ye on her lap an' exercised her han',
Then chicked ye in yur baba 'cause ye wisna fit till stan'
Div ye mind, boy Eh? Div ye mind?
Dive ye mind e' day ye traivelled wi yur faither in a cairt,
Far fae hoosie, kirk and burnie, in e' world til act yir pairt?
Hoo ye turned an looked an looked again, wi a prayer in yeer face,
An vowed til play e' man and bring them no disgrace?
Div ye mind, boy Eh? Div ye mind?
Taken from a book called Caithnessian Poems and Plays by John Horne. Look, I've gone all dewey eyed now.
Remember reciting that at the Festival in Thurso early 60s. God!! am I really that old!!
girniegoe
27-Jan-05, 19:05
Beat me to it Thotku! My version is in "Over The Ord" first published in 1948 (I remember it well!) and reissued in 1994 (the one I have now). A few other good Caithness poems in there too.
A while back someone posted a request in the Births/Deaths section for music/tune to go with George Mowat's The Moors of Caithness - does anyone have any knowledge of a recorded version?
THE MOORS OF CAITHNESS
[a song by George Mowat]
It is long since I left my native land,
Where all my forebears lie,
Where the wind blows keen o'er vacant moors,
Beneath the dome of the sky.
But I shall never forget that land,
Nor the feel of the sun and the rain,
Nor the mile upon mile of heather in bloom,
Across the treeless plain.
Though time and age may make me frail,
That spell will hold me fast,
And bring me thoughts of peace and quiet
And comfort at the last.
Though my bones will lie in the city's smoke
Beside those loved by me,
My spirit will wander the Caithness moors,
Till all eternity.
What John Horne forgot !
Div ye mind yur Kaitness hoosie fan e rain wis pooran doon
An ye sat upon e table if ye didna want till droon
Fan e watter keepid risin lek e tide upon e shore
Fit wisna coman through e roof cam in ablow e door?
Div ye mind boy ? Eh div ye mind?
Div ye mind yur Kaitness hoosie fan e peits wis soakin weet
An yur e'en were nippan in yur heed till ye wis fit till greet
Fan e reek wis lek till chok ye an pit ye oot o pain
An aal e peits in Kaitness widna warm yur bones again
Div ye mind boy? E div ye mind?
Div ye mind e days in winter an e bleeters ye'd till feice
Fan ye gied till get a lod o neeps for twa-r-three houngry beyce
Fan every dutch wis lek a burn an ivry park a sea
An ivry rod about e pleice wis gutters till e knee
Div ye mind boy? e div ye mind?
Div ye mind e smell o Kaitness chist lek a gas attack
Fan e win wis off e middeen an e very peegs stood back
An chist in case e fowks inside wis missan sometheen rare
E dowg traiked through e middle o'd an brocht en in thur share
Div ye mind boy? Div ye mind?
Div ye mind e fowk in Kaitness fa took unholy glee
In spreadan nesty stories 'boot e leks o ye an me?
They could twist a hermless action till id wid disgreice a sent
An if id wisna black enough they allwiz could invent
Div ye mind boy? Div ye mind?
Div ye mind e day in Kaitness fan ye felt ye'd hed enough
An ye left e croft for iver in e wurld till do yur stuff
An ye heided bravely for e sooth through drivan win an rain
An ye swore at dreary countryside wid no see ye again
Div y mind boy? Div ye mind?
Bit spite o win an rain an muck ye canna stop awey
An many's a weary chourney hev ye hedden since at day
Ye lek till see chist wance again e pleice far ye steyed
Bit faigs ! ye ken a good thing and ye'll no come hom till bide!
Cos ye mind boy! Aye ye mind !
How about this one?
If id's news that yer getheran, try roond aboot Letheran,
An ye winna hae far til seek
But e' placey for newsan and greetan yur freends
Is choost ootside Woolies in Week.
Great fun but Ive no idea where that came from!
Fan ma time comes an A retire
A'm goin back till Kaitness
Till spend e eev'neen o ma days
In blissfil peice an quatness
A'll hev a hoosie o ma owwn
A gairdeen bricht wi floorags
An ivry room a blaze o licht
Fae Altnabreac's owld boorags
another by Castlegreen
The version I have also is by "Castlegreen
Golach
Bill Fernie
27-Jan-05, 21:23
Many thanks folks
That's great I have passed on the message to Canada
I will transfer some of this to pages on the web site shortly to let others find them more easily.
Those poems look and sound good, but what I need now is a translation button! :confused
Thanks folks for the memories..I laughed my socks of when I first read "Div ye mind"..checked the croft roof thoroughly before retiring that night!
Loved the other offerings too...any one know if the collection of poems called "Div ye mind" is back in print?
I'm writing from Canada looking for help finding one more poem given the quick success with The Caithness Housie. (I just registered)
Does anyone know the complete words to a poem that begins:
A mind lang syne I had a fricht,
My grannie sent me oot one nicht,
She says `Here's the money hud it tacht'
And dinna break yer grannie's moogie
Here's hoping . . .
I have not heard that little poem before -
to my ear it sounds more Aberdeen than Caithness..
Fit d'ye think Golach?
SD
michellem
28-Jan-05, 09:50
Great stuff folks!! Its 25 years since I left Gods country :( but reading these poems makes it feel as if I'm back home again :D Keep it up, FANTASTIC
A soupcon for Michellem
BROTH on e SUNDAY
Ye may dine in gran steite off e finest o pleite
Or a bowlie may had yur drop brochan
Ye may tak sometheen licht if yur no feelan richt
Or sit at e boord till ye're soachan
Ye mebbe mak do on a skintie o stew
Or tatties an herreen for wan day
Fit ye hev through e week disna maitter a squeak
Bit id's best till be broth on e Sunday.
There's whilies A daursay , ye feel kin o warsie
An ye'd lek till try sometheen by-ornar
Weel tattie soup's good if ye feel in at mood
An' clapshot ' ll fill ivry coarner.
Ye can mak a gran dish aff a chounk o hard fish
Or e rabbad ye catched in e cundy
Bit id's sorrow and grief if there's no boilin beef
An ye cann hae broth on e Sunday
Let the Sooth shither blost o thur grills an thur roast
They dinna ken better - poor craiters
But till fowk wi good taste, fa hev naitheen till waste
A pleite o thick broth's aal at maitters
An dinna get attry if hids thin an wattry
Hid's thicker hid gets by Monday
So straichten yur back sir, an hev a richt raxer
There's notheen lek broth on e Sunday
more verses I think ?
another by Castlegreen
anyone got the words of 'ee scorry'?
michellem
28-Jan-05, 10:37
Absolutely fantastic! Sittin here wi eh broadest grin on ma face in a long long time! Thankyou :D :D
Anyone able to post the words for "e midge"?
Bill Fernie
28-Jan-05, 13:05
One poem about the Caithness Midgie can be found at
http://www.caithness.org/community/arts/caithnesspoets/anon/
There are other poems and I suspect this one may not be the one you are thinking about.
One poem about the Caithness Midgie can be found at
http://www.caithness.org/community/arts/caithnesspoets/anon/
There are other poems and I suspect this one may not be the one you are thinking about.
The one I'm thinking of was, I think, used in the Caithness dialect category in the Caithness Music Festival in 1988.
I'm sure it went something along the lines of "e midgie in e heilan' glen..." but I can't remember it at all apart from that.
I love the poems of W T Lyall
I'm sure you do too, if you come from Week ?
Clapshot.
Ye've wined and dined in plush hotels an fed off menus grand
T Bone Steaks an' salmon cuts an chicken Maryland,
Ye've chowed at chuisy sirlions, till ae greeze ran doon yur chin
Ai soup 'at wis ai chef's own choice, wis only oot a tin.
An' now ye've spent yur last bawbee, an hed all ye can take,
Fit aboot at Caithness dish yur mither used till make,
When next yur at yur own fireside, flat broke an feelin' low
Take a feed o' steamin' clapshot lek ye used till long ago.
from me...
I've peeled a pile of tatties and I've cut a great beeg neep.
I've pit them on till boeil while I tak a little sleep,
Then in wi a dad o' butter and Pepper till mak it zing
And a nice big slice o' cowld boiled beef is chist the very thing!!
Bill Fernie
29-Jan-05, 16:51
Willie Lyall allowed me to publish some of his poetry on the wbe site and few other examples can be found at http://www.caithness.org/community/arts/caithnesspoets/willielyall/index.htm
Great !! Caithness dialect as she is spoke !!
What's really required here is a compendium of Caithness dialect poetry & humorous verse. My brother writes a line or two and has a good few unpublished parables........
Maybe I can persuade him to contribute...... watch this space......
:D
mysophales
30-Jan-05, 02:21
Those poems look and sound good, but what I need now is a translation button! :confused
Why would you need a translation ??,
seems pretty straight forward to me !!!.
Is this what you were looking for Katarina ?
'E SKORRIE
'E Skorrie! Sowrow saut his tail!
I hevna words till fit him.
A sleek an' gusty glowerin thief -
He yelps and shreeks 'e hale day lang,
An' deaves me wi his skirlin'
Oh, jist till clure him wi a clod
An' set his feathers whirlin!
Yet, puir owld kithan, he maun live,
For a ma rage an worry,
Tho he's 'e rascal o e burds
He's still wir ain wild skorrie!
He steals an cadges oot e face
A greedy, crafty dodger;
'E meat I spread for dukes an hens
He nabs as bowld's a sodjer.
He'll wring a herrin' off 'e spit
Fat time I amna lookin'
An' fan I line him wi a rowng
He's roond e corner shookin.
An yet, till hear him roond e rocks
His cowning maks me sorry
He's sich an eerie, lonesome tramp.
Wir restless, wandrin' skorrie!
Fan frosty days his hunger thraws
He scoors about e clachan,
He'll grab e verra bairnies 'piece'
An mock them wi his lauchan !
His howff aside e rocks is cowld
So roond e croft he settles
Then maks ma lum his warmin-pan
An fyles ma pans an kettles.
Thanks for ee scorrie! How's ee leek is wan? Written by me!
In Caithness in ee summer, sometimes ee nights are fine,
I looked oot at ma gairden, and the jungle that wis mine.
Ah thought it wid be perfect, till hev a place till rest,
Wi a glass o’ wine and music, while ee sun sunk in ee west.
Ah hired a manny wae’ a mower, an’ a chainsaw for a fee,
Till cut doon trees an’ bushes an’ build a patio for me
Ah boucht a swing chair oot o’ Lidl’s for a price ah thoucht wis richt
An lit candles all around id, for id wis a bonny nicht.
Ah boucht a cd oot o’ woollies, o’ Addie Harper’s band
And retired to ma patio wi’ glass o’ wine in hand.
What a gran’ way till unwind, when ee day is done, I thoucht
An’ settled back in ecstasy wi’ a book that a’d just boucht.
Ah thoucht till masel’, noo, when winter looms again
Ah’ll still come oot here till sit, ‘s long as id disna rain
Wi a few lighties roond about, the place shood look first class
An Ah’ll surf ee net for a heater, wan that works on gas.
Boot lurkan in ee bushes wis things ah couldna see
A whole squad o midgies, joost waitan’ for thir tea
Noo, boys, says dad, call yir wives and all yir bairnies too
For we’ll be dining oot ee nicht – there’s plenty here till chew.
Well, here wis ah, settled back, sheltered fae wind an’ weather
When all at wance ah wis attacked by midgies and their fayther.
They bit ma face, they bit ma hans, they nestled in ma clothes
They’re on my book they’re in ma wine, they’re even up ma nose!
Ah took ti ma heels intil ee hoose an’ washed ma face wi watter,
Ah grabbed ee groat till take a swipe, the peedie pests till splatter,
Ah swiped id here, ah swiped id there, till ma arm wis dirlan’
But the midgies they came back for more, they were na’ even skirlan’
Noo , at ma bonnie patio Ah gaze wi’ sorry hert,
The beasties fill the peaceful air, lookan’ for desert
ah’m away till surf ee net, no for an ootside heater
Cos’ next time ah go on ma swing, ah’ll hev a midgie eater!
It gets better an' better folks..many thanks..thought some of you might like this altho' it's in a different dialect but just goes to prove how important the basics are in life.
Scads and tates, scads and tates
Scads an' tates and congers,
And those who can't east scads and tates'
O' they must die of hunger.
Scads = mackerel 'tates ,I think you can work out for yourselves
On the changing face of Caithness Gairdens
O Pampas-Grass, O Pampas-grass,
Thou'll ne'er be dear tae me,
Entwined thou art wi mony ties
Tae hames across the sea.
Ye found yur way tae Caithness yairds,
Oot went the Rowan Tree,
They planted you in one Big Clump
Their neighbours for tae see.
We ran aroon yur stemlike reeds,
As once we ran sae free,
Nae berries here tae string like beads
Nae hairts noo filled wi glee.
My mither O I see her still
She sighed oor sports tae see,
Wi little Jamie at her side
Greetin' for the Tree.
My brither O I hear him still,
He loved that bonnie Tree
He wept a' nicht - it wisna richt,
He'd climbed that Rowan Tree.
No leaves hae you tae greet the spring
No flooers in summertime,
No berries for the bairns till string
As days o auld lang syne.
Noo a' are gane, we meet sae rare,
We hev nae Rowan Tree,
We gather roon - we hev alas
Tae sit aneath the Pampas-grass.
FM
webmannie
12-Feb-05, 11:39
at isna e'skorrie wan i recited at e Caithness Dialict Festival. Ere wis a lot o scootin in e wan i recited. Must be enither wan on e go
You'll find the rest of this poem at the back of Donald Young's 'Book of Lybster'
I found it in my stocking this Christmas and I thoroughly enjoyed it - a must for most Caithness folk.
CAITHNESS CRACK
When back end nichts are pullan' in an the work is gettan' slack,
When the coern is all sneog in the yaird an the peits are in the stack,
When A neebur ca's in for news an ye cast yir mind richt back,
Boy there's notheen lek a good peit fire and a nicht o Caithness crack.
Id's kind o entertainment that ye'll find is hard till beit,
For sheer enchoyment some wid say id wis their drink and meit,
As ye yarn until the sma' oors til the daylicht starts til brack,
There's no tekan long when yir goan strong at some good auld Caithness crack .
Ye may news aboot the schooldays an the ploys ye used till play
When Skipper smok'd the partan's toe an' wis boakan all the day,
When Fletchie tarred the teacher's chalk an got lethered wi the strap
Such memories are the keynotes o' a lichtsome Caithness crack.
Many more wonderful verses by Donald A Young.
Please forgive any typing mistakes!
SD
mysophales
12-Feb-05, 21:07
Those poems look and sound good, but what I need now is a translation button! :confused
Try this Rheghead, it explains it all.
http://www.caithness.org/community/arts/caithnesspoets/willielyall/wordies.htm
MY POOR WEE LYBSTER TRAIN.
Some sing o ships and flying bombs, at hurtle thro 'e air,
Some lek till praise 'e race horse, e greyhound or e hare,
Bit, o' aaw e things at ever sped on air or land or sea,
There's only wan 'at I wid choose, e Lybster Train for me.
It wisna just an ordner train that runs wae 'a asither,
And hes till wait in sidings tae maak room for anither
It hed a line aal till idsel, it hed five stations too
And deil a thing till howld hid back except an anterin coo.
It didna gee a scrape for win, for snow or hale or rain
But jowged away contented lek till Week and back again
It wandered on its cannie way, though speed was some fouk's cry
But faa wid want till tare till Week so long as Week wis dry.
'E trains at run doon in 'e sooth are no' e trains I lek
For if ye want till catch them, ye'll nearly braak yur neck
Bit wee e Lybster trainee ye didnae hev till mind
If Georgie saw ye comin ye were'na left behind
Hid cerried Keengs and Commoners, fenders and fountain pens
An doos an ducks an doormats, o aye an clockin hens
We took it a for granted, thocht hid wid ae run on
But fortune wis agin us an noo wir train is gone.
They said it didna pey its wey, they said it wisna worth
To those in high authority it cumbered up the north
An now in place o aa its dird and cheery homley din
There's nithin bit e scorrie's cry an weery whistlin win.
Bit formost in ma memory o pleasure or o pain
I'd gee the place of honour till
My Poor Wee Lybster Train.
The Pepsi Challenge
04-Mar-05, 20:51
Crack: it's spelt "craic". Isn't it?
~~Tides~~
04-Mar-05, 23:47
Dont be silly, we're not Irish.
The Pepsi Challenge
05-Mar-05, 01:49
No. It has the same connotations and meaning.
Well, heres it is - a half-inched humorous tale of everyday conditions in "Gods Country" sent out to a young relative in the Antipodes, basking in 36-degree heat at Xmas time...... just to remind her of the "quality life" she left behind.
Spam Ali of course apologises is anyone is offended in anyway........ Aye.....
GREETANS FROM CAITHNESS
or: “'E day efter yesterday”
Div ye mind:
huddled 'roon' a fadin' fire,
In howlan' gales 'e drifts get higher,
all roads blocked from 'e causwaymire;
- Richt across Caithness.
'E Ord is shut, 'E cooncils oot
wi' ploos and gritters all aboot',
stuck in 10ft drifts no doot,
- Richt across Caithness
'E powers cut, 'e lines are doon
wi' hardly a licht aboot 'e toon,
but 'e Hydro Board is goan' roon
- Richt across Caithness
'E fleet is storm-bound at 'e quay,
though 'e crews are all at sea,
in lamp-lit clubs they're on 'e spree
- Richt across Caithness
'E Dounreay staffs been turned away,
but we've powered up and saved 'e day,
an' sent it south as electricty,
- wi' no lichts across Caithness
'E Coastgaurd's done a 'copter drop
wi' vital supplies from e' Corner Shop,
but tied 'id slack an' scattered 'e lot
- Richt across Caithness
'E trains is stuck in drifts so deep
till dig them oot will take a week,
an' 'e forecast says 'ids lookan' bleak
- Richt across Caithness
'E Bobbies hev sized e' situation,
they're “In control” of 'e consternation
an hardly hed til leave 'e station,
- Richt across Caithness
'E Hydro Board is oot again
busy searchan' for 'ids men
in every pub from here 'til Tain
- and richt across Caithness
'E gale is blowan' past Force Ten,
We'll never see wur hens again,
Their shed has blown off wi' them
inside - Richt across Caithness
Wi' 'e remnants o' 'e ould shed
Ah've fashioned up a sorta' sled,
ah think ah'll take a trek instead,
- Richt across Caithness
' E icicles here's as thick as stabs,
'E fields are jus' lek frozen slabs,
An' - “Ouch !!” - we've all hed extra jabs,
- Richt across Caithness
Anither Ice Age some folks say
is surely coman' back someday,
Ah'm sure 'ids already come wur way
- Richt across Caithness
So we all hope yer doin' fine
'Way doon there in 'e warm sunshine,
Now see an' hev a damn good time,
- An' mind o' his in Caithness !!
Spam Ali
SPAM ALI that was brilliant ! Many thanks.
It sort of warmed me up in a funny way as I sit here nursing a bad cold.
Anyway I feel much better after that - I think I remember that storm was it called Operation Snowdrop?
One to copy off for my Book,
Thank you.
SD
Canada 1 I remember recitin emoogie at e festival, I love our caithness dialect especially those by John Horne. I am tryan to find my copy of his book and my copy of emoogie. I'm sure it was John Horne that wrote it. I'll keep lookan. The best bit o Caithness Dialect is it brings back a bit o everyones memories, we can all mind e winters as they are described an ye can all imagine your granny or grandas telling ye stories such as written aboot, ye can almost imagine them sittin in e chair we the wireless on aside e open fire, O great memories
For Mothers everywhere....
DIV YE KEN JESSAG ? by John Horne
Div ye ken Jessag?
Her towngue's as sharp's a butcher's knife:
Hid cuts ye, an ye bleed for life!
Her scorn can fin' ye through a wa'
Her very snifter leaves ye raw.
She smokes at times, an flytes at lairge:
In truth, she's jist a barmin tairge.
'At's Jessag, Div ye ken her?
Div ye ken Jessag?
She's aye as clean's a summer shoo'er
Her hoose she scoors fae roof til floor,
She scrubs her bairns baith hair an hide,
An' mak's their welfare a' her pride.
Her man gangs oot wi' tidy breeks,
An' diet-prompt her lum-heid reeks.
'At's Jessag, div ye ken her?
Div ye ken Jessag?
Fan any neebour's ill an faint,
She's aye e first til pley 'e saint,
Her han's are soft as schochad's wings,
An sick fowk lek 'e airt she brings,
An far she is, she's o' sic use -
There seems more Heav'n aboot e hoose.
'At's Jessag, div ye ken her?
Dave Sutherland
07-Mar-05, 20:14
Bob: I have a copy of "Tatties an' Herreen" by Castlegreen ( Donald Grant) which was published by the "Groat" in 1961. On pages 18 and 19 there are 8 verses of Div Ye Mind? (or "What John Horne forgot")
The verses are somewhat different to the ones you have published but none the less rendered in true Kaithness prose.
I will be pleased to send you this classic if you can use it
Kindest regards,
Dave Sutherland
Ex The Old School House, Castletown.
I was out shopping today, 800 miles from Wick and I came across
a little second hand book on Caithness. I must quote a few lines
which made me smile. Anyone know who wrote them?
'E Sitherlands they focht 'e Gunns
'E Gunns they focht 'e Sinclairs,
'E Sinclairs focht 'e wild MacKays,
'E polis focht 'e tinklers,
Now 'at more settled times hev come
Til alter 'e poseetion
'E Cooncils fecht amowng themsels
Til keep 'e owld tradeetion.
imamackay
30-May-05, 12:59
The one I'm thinking of was, I think, used in the Caithness dialect category in the Caithness Music Festival in 1988.
Yes it was 1988, I did it when I was in Primary School....many many moons ago. Including most of the others mentioned above.
The poem about e moogie is a Caithness poem, My younger sister did it at the festival too!!!
imamackay
30-May-05, 13:07
at isna e'skorrie wan i recited at e Caithness Dialict Festival. Ere wis a lot o scootin in e wan i recited. Must be enither wan on e go
Hid wis e same wan I recited at e festival, but I think Katrina missed a bit oot.
I was out shopping today, 800 miles from Wick and I came across
a little second hand book on Caithness. I must quote a few lines
which made me smile. Anyone know who wrote them?
'E Sitherlands they focht 'e Gunns
'E Gunns they focht 'e Sinclairs,
'E Sinclairs focht 'e wild MacKays,
'E polis focht 'e tinklers,
Now 'at more settled times hev come
Til alter 'e poseetion
'E Cooncils fecht amowng themsels
Til keep 'e owld tradeetion.
Silver darlings,
I have a full copy of this poem in my "Tatties 'an Herreen" by Castlegreen 2nd edition
It is called "A short hostory of Caithness" and has 14 verses.The verse you have quoted is verse 5
Golach
Bill Fernie
02-Aug-05, 01:14
I received an enquiry to today as follows. Can anyone help with the answer. I thought as Castlegreen had been mentioned here a whileback the answer might not be far away.
I remember growing up in the Hill o' Forss and every new year we got the story of the Ghost of the hill o' Forss. As you would expect the men who told the story were very drunk and after a few days celebrating we "bairns" were mesmerised but Tired, by morning the men couldn't or wouldn't remember the story and it is many years since I have heard it. I have looked on the Internet and it does exist and from what I can make out it was written by someone who went by the name of "Castlegreen" and he also wrote "tatties & Herreen". Do you know of this poem and where I can get a copy of it.
Many thanks
I will pass on any replies.
Bill Fernie
Bill,
the poem the "Ghost of the hill o' Forss" comes from a book of Caithness Dialect poems titled "Tatties an' Herrreen" written by "Caslegreen" i.e. Donald Grant a former headmaster of the high school in Thurso.
It is one of my favourite poems from the book.
Bill Fernie
02-Aug-05, 09:18
Is the book still available or like many out of print
Can anyone supply the words of the poem?
exiledtoedinburgh
02-Aug-05, 09:27
I'm writing from Canada looking for help finding one more poem given the quick success with The Caithness Housie. (I just registered)
Does anyone know the complete words to a poem that begins:
A mind lang syne I had a fricht,
My grannie sent me oot one nicht,
She says `Here's the money hud it tacht'
And dinna break yer grannie's moogie
Here's hoping . . .
E' Moogie
Ah min' langsyne Ah got a fricht! Ma grannie needan' milk ae nicht
Said "Ere's a penny, howld it ticht- an ere's 'e peedie moogie.
Noo haste an' be na lang awa, bit min' yer feet an' dinna fa'
An' dinna tak' a sook or twa an teem yir grannie's moogie!"
So off Ah set- bit ran too weel- Ah tripped an' couped heid owre heel
An' then ah bellyed lek a feel till see ma broken moogie.
Ah picked 'e pieces aff e' grun' an' hom' Ah scuddled in a stun -
For weel Ah kent fit kin' o' fun wid come o' 'at owld moogie.
Ma grannie got a fearfu' gluff- bit soon she hed me by 'e scruff -
An' barmed an' flyted in a huff about her foosum moogie!
She lowsed ma jacad, lowsed ma vest - an' then she lowsed - ye ken 'e rest!
An skelped me east an' skelped me west an' paid me for 'e moogie!
An' as her han' begood till play, and ivery skelp wis lek till flay -
She gasped: "Ah'll mak ye min' 'e day ye fell an brake ma moogie!"
By John Horne
If you're looking for more Caithness Dialect poems, get in touch with Mrs Omand who used to be a teacher at Thurso High School. I loved dialect poems and went to the festival every year, so she gave me a collection that her pupils had illustrated years ago called "Div Ye Ken Kaitness?". I don't think it was ever published as such, but the inside cover reads:
'It was the wish of the late Miss Henrietta Munro that her collection of Caithness Dialect poems be made available, on a non-profit basis, to each school in the county of Caithness, for use in class and at festival times."
Margaret M.
02-Aug-05, 16:50
What a great thread! Wonderful poems, every last one.
Ai Trinkie
by W.T.Lyall
Ye can keep yur Costa Brava wi ades sundrenched golden sands,
Tenerefe an' Malta, an' costa fortune lands,
I widna swap yur package deal far all ye tourist flock,
For a picnic at ai trinkie an' a scamper roond ai rocks.
Ye michtna get ai weather o' ai sunny coast o' Spain,
Thurs times ye'll hev till pack yur bags an' scatter feh ai rain,
An' if ades kinda breezy don't shelter feh ades source,
Ye canna beit a good win' tan, as long's ade's no gale force.
We've no pollution problems lek they hev in many toons,
Ade's only when thurs heavy rain ai water's kinda broon,
Ade's murky for a whilie, but soon we look wi' pride,
Ai trinkie gets a good wash oot, wi' every rushin' tide.
Ai council squad wi' brooms an spades, an' screipers come till clean,
They slosh ade all wi' whitewash an' get rid o' seaweed green,
Then when ai tide spills our ai wall, an' all their work is done,
They watch ai crystal water, sparklin' bonny in ai sun.
An' now ai bairns come rushin' doon till paddle an till skint,
Ai beeg chiels at ai deep end do a demonstration sprint,
Thur's plenty little poolies far ai toddlers lek til play,
Fit a screimin' an' commotion on a lovely sunny day.
Ai young chiels climb ai diving board, an' dive in feh ai top,
Fit wis meant till be a chack-knife, turned oot a belly flop,
An' when they've swam an' dived enough an' tired o' all their fun,
They sit an' dry on sheltered rocks, an' bask in a trinkie sun.
So keep yur Costa Brava wi ades sundrenched golden sands,
Tenerefe an' Malta, an' costa fortune lands,
I widna swap yur package deal far all ye tourists flock,
For a picnic at ai trinkie an' a scamper roond ai rocks.
Lavenderblue2
30-Aug-05, 23:20
“Ye never hear o’ knottie noo,
‘E game is never seen,
An’ yet we played it everyday
Upon the village green……….
‘E crofters ‘gainst ‘e villagers
At denner time we’d play
An’ up an’ doon ‘e green we’d race
Till ‘e bell called us away.”
Don Manson
What fun this thread has been - I have enjoyed every post - more like these PLEASE!
LB
Cutting Peat in Caithness.
by Isabel Salmon.
Hev ye iver been off cutting peyt
Across ae Caithness moor,
Haddin' on ae kertie
Till yur heels wid hit ae stoor.
At last ye'd reach ae cutting patch
An sit doon for yir tea,
Wi' a floor scon' an' an otcake
Till pit a strength in ye.
Ye could watch ae greyt beeg cutting spade
Deeg deep, in heather mire.
Boot fine ye'd ken, ae day wid come
When ye'd get yir bonnie fire.
Ae greyt weet slabs wir laid oot fine
Ye'd stack them wan by wan,
Till twenty bonnie rows or more,
Stood high on Caithness land.
Ae hills they rang wi' laughter,
All day wis happiness,
Oh, the joy of being,
Wi yir ain folk in Caithness.
Can anyone supply the rest of this poem please....
If
If blackchock fustles on a tree
If sprowgie cheeps lek fit till dee
If gullag skirls ower angry sea
Till me they're Kaitness.
Alexander Miller 1900 - 1945
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