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Love poems for February
Doon by the Riverside.
By Sandy Meikeljohn.
c. 1951
Doon by the riverside I’ll stray,
When evenin’ shadows fa’
An’ there embrace ma ain dear maid,
Fan daylicht gangs awa.
I’ll clasp her till ma throbbin’ breist,
Ne’er far ‘e waters glide,
For she’s ‘e darlin’ o’ ma he’rt,
Doon by the riverside.
Doon by the riverside, how sweet,
To drink her lovin’ smile,
And press a kiss upon her lips
Enraptured there ‘e while;
An’ softly whisper in her ear
‘Ma star o’ Evenin’-tide’
Through life A’ll cherish ye,
Doon by the riverside.
Doon by the riverside wi’ her,
Then let me ever stray;
Na either joy in life A crave,
But her in gloamin’ grey;
O grant me this, ye powers aboon,
An’ ever be ma guide,
To live in harmony wi’ her,
Doon by the riverside.
-
Jock's Lament.
Jock’s Lament
Taken from the CC 1951
Fain wid I marry an’ if ye should ask
Why A don’t do so, ye set me a task!
Fain wid I marry but faith I do not!
Because in ma folly I luv ‘e whole lot!
I love Peg, I love Meg, love Maggie an’ Dolly,
I love one in Murkle an’ twa in Buchollie,
I love twa sweet blondes in ‘e gay Fisherbiggans,
So shy – to return to it they need lots o’ priggan!
I love barmaids an’ charmaids an’ milkmaids an’ housemaids,
An’ boldmaids an’ meek-as-a-mouse maids!
I love maids in Dounreay, I love them in Thrumster
My auntie she tells me that one lives in Humster!
I love girls at an office an girls at a baker’s
An’ girls in ‘e pieshop an’ black-puddin’ makers,
At times wi’ ma loved ones I wander to Whaligoe
An’ my lovin it lived till id reached up to Shelligoe!
I love maids at the Pentland an three at ‘e Royal,
I love Matrons that are flighty an’ maids that are loyal,
An’ maids at the pictures – the sweet little creatures
An’ wance for a stretch I loved twa Thirsa teachers!
An’ THAT’S why I’d mairry an’ yet A DO NOT!
I luv them, I luv them, I luv ‘e WHOLE LOT !!
(n.b. Jock is the owner of a good goin’ bike ! )
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To Ma Valentine by Chimmagie MacGonagle
To My Valentine
( A can dream in February – Can I no ? )
by Chimmagie MacGonagle.
If ye should somehow fall for me
And A should tumble in reverse
We’d swear by all eternity
Take for better or for worse,
And live on love from dawn till taps,
Perhaps !
If ye hed money in ‘e bank –
As much as any bank wid hold –
A widna want a single franc,
For Love wid rule, an’ all your gold
Wid mean no more till me than Zinc –
A think !
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Och aye! by P.J.
Och Aye !
By P.J.
O ma luv’s lek a buttercup
Unrationed wi’ it’s butter,
Or lek a wee sea-pink amang
‘E cliffs far loud waves splutter.
As fair thou art, ma ain true Luv,
As Bing Crosby’s croon
An’ A will luv ye still ma dear
Till ‘e Cost o’ Livin’ somes doon!
Till ‘e Cost o’ Livin comes doon, ma dear,
An’ ‘e prices melt wi’ ‘e sun,
An’ a man may feed his wife an bairns
Withoot a poacher’s gun.
An’ fare thee weel, ma only Luv
For by ‘e Powers aboon,
‘Tis A will come again, ma Luv
When e Cost o’ Livin comes doon !
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St Valentine's Day by the Caithness Violinist
St Valentine’s Day
By the Caithness Violinist aka Robert MacKay.
c. 1951
Hids fifty years iss very day
Since Jock proposed tae me;
Ma hert I gave him straightaway
Wi’ a’ it’s love sae free.
Jock swore by every oath he kent,
He’d never let me doon,
But stick tae me as hard’s cement,
An’ we’d get merried soon.
But here I am a spinster still,
As Jock’s been aff for years
And still a gimmer on ‘e hill
Nae wonder A’m in tears.
So lassies tak ye my advice
An’ watch yersels wi’ men
Wi’ them ye stan’ on slippery ice
Believe me, for I ken.
But may ye fin’ a Valentine
That’ll ne’er lead ye astray
May love in purity entwine
Your hert an’ his this day.
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In Love by Thyrza Sutherland
In Love
By Thyrza Sutherland c. 1951
O guess ye hoo A feel the night
Ah! No! Ye dinna ken !
There ne’er was wan fa felt sae ill
Both but ‘e hoose an’ ben.
A canna rest at a’ at e’en
Doon by wur ain fireside,
But forth must go a’ by masel,
Till wander by ‘e tide !
A canna set ma wanderin’ thochts
On anything at a’
A canna eit, A canna sleep,
Ma peace has gone awa!
A’m ill, ye canna doot,
Ma heid’s fair lek till rive,
Ma hert aye forbye goes pit-a-pat
A’m mair deid than alive !
Losh lassie but I ken richt weel
What ails ye noo so sore,
Ye’ve seen twa een, they’ve stolen awa
Your peace, aye and far more,
Nae doot but wid he say ‘e word
Ye’d be content till rove,
So airm in airm, up ‘e Mall
For Jenny ye’re in LOVE !
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Ma Ould Wumman an' I. by Sanny St Clair
Ma Ould Wumman an’ I
By Sanny St Clair c. 1950
We hev crossed ‘e bridge o’er the middle of life
Ma ould wumman an’ I
Takin wur share in the calm an strife
Wi’ the travellers passing by;
And though on our pathway the shadows are rife,
There’s a licht in the western sky !
Some losses an’ crosses of coorse we’ve had,
Ma ould wumman an’ I
But bless ye ! we’ve never found time to be sad,
And a very good reason why,
We were busy as bees, an’ we werena so mad
As til stop in wur work til cry !
On wur changeable road as we journeyed along,
Ma ould wumman an’ I
The kindly companions we met in the throng
Made our lives like a vision fly,
And therefore, the few that imagine us wrong,
Scarcely costs us a single sigh !
The weak an’ the weary we’ve striven til cheer
Ma ould wumman an’ I
For each o’ us thocht that wur duty while here
Was til do as we’d be done by,
In the hope to exhibit a balance clear
When the reckoning day is nigh !
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by Robert MacKay
To Margaret
By Robert MacKay c. 1947
My thoughts they often go astray
I keep forever sighin,
For my wee darling’s eyes of grey,
And to see her sweet face smilin’.
Her graceful waist disturbs my rest
Her cheery word enthrals me,
And ev’ry hour her magic power,
By night and day it calls me.
O, give me Margaret’s hand in mine
No other gift is dearer,
For love is in our heart’s divine,
And skies were never clearer.
Sweet Margaret, darling of my soul
So lovely and alluring
While I live on and age’s roll,
Our love will be enduring.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mary
By Robert MacKay.
A bonnier lass I’ve never seen,
From John O’ Groats to Aberdeen,
I bless the walk I took yestreen
‘Twas then I met wi’ Mary.
And when we met I couldna’ pass,
I said ‘Guid-een my bonnie lass,’
She smiled a smile none could surpass,
‘Twas then I ‘fell’ for Mary.
Her slender form I did embrace,
I kissed her lovely upturned face,
I know my love had found a place,
Within the heart of Mary.
I care not for your ruby wine
Nor all the gold that’s in the mine,
But gie me one sweet kiss divine,
From the rosy lips of Mary.
Her hert is kind, her manner gay,
I see her almost every day,
There’s ae thing mair I want to say,
Ma hert is a’ for Mary.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dancin in the Gloamin’
By Robert MacKay.
How sweet are Nature’s rural flowers
That bloom in sunny June,
How cosy are the sheltered bowers,
That hide us frae the moon.
How fair she looks that lo’es me,
As we baith go birlin’ roon’
Dancin to the fiddler in the gloamin’
Refrain –
Dancin in the gloamin wi’ the lassie frae the mill
Everywhere the sheep and kye are roamin’.
Life and love seem so divine as I hold her hand in mine
Dancin’ to the fiddler in the gloamin’.
The Laird may own a mansion house,
The Peer a castle braw,
Wi lords and ladies they may dine
In fashion’s latest law,
But wi’ my lassie in my arms
I’m happier than them a’ –
Dancin’ to the fiddler in the gloamin
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Lassies
By Robert MacKay. C. 1949
I love the lassies ane and a’
For a’ the bonnie ones I fa’
Their ways delight me every hour
For I’m completely in their power.
What though they sometimes flyte at me,
And bring the tears quick tae ma e’e
I would be surely less than human
If I’d deny the love of a woman.
Their smiles, their graceful walk and style
My very hert they fairly wile;
Without them, ach, this world would be
A duller, sadder place for me.
……………………………………………
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by Robert MacKay
Jamie Magee
By Robert MacKay. C. 1946
Oh, how can I sing when my laddie’s awa’
And how can I stay the sad tear frae my e’e
And how can I dance in the braw lichted ha’
And thochtless forget on dear Jamie Magee?
Oh, Pairtin’s nae pleasure to lovers, I trow ye,
That’s bridged by an ocean as mine is frae me,
The nicht time or mornin’ is aye noo sae dreary
Since I lost my canty young Jamie Magee.
I oft gae a-walkin where hunters are stalking,
The fleet-footed deer over heathland and lea,
And musing and sighing where curlews are crying,
I pine for ‘e sicht o’ braw Jamie Magee.
I dreamt that my love was upon the sea sailing
And oh! But ‘twas sweet an sae real to me,
But when I awoke in the grey o’ the morning,
I saw my dream vanish wi’ Jamie Magee.
But fate sent a letter an’ noo I feel better,
For Jamie is sailin’ for Scotland an me,
An’ he’s sent me a ring that will mak’ me forever,
The helpmate and wife o’ my Jamie Magee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Caithness Lass
By Robert MacKay.
A bonnie lass, a cheery lass,
A nice wee lass is she,
So dinna try tae steal her hert,
For she’s gien it a’ tae me.
She winna tak’ ye for yer car,
Or for your LSD
I tell ye a’ where’er ye are,
She’s mine, and aye will be.
Her cheery smile and dark blue eyes
Are set on nane but me,
And best o’ a’ her love’s the prize,
That’s wi me til I dee.
Ye single men from hill an glen
In Caithness by the sea.
How weel I lek her nane‘ll ken
Except hersel’ and me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Jessag
By Robert MacKay
Poor Jessag couldna’ get a man
However hard she tried,
And faith she worked on ilka plan
But love her arts defied.
Tae kirk an’ markad Jess went dressed,
Jist lek a pented doll,
But ilka chiel he stood the test
An’ Jessag still a moll.
Her feyther gave her good advice,
Her mither telt her straight,
‘Yer face an figure’s no’ their price,
So Jessag ye maun wait’
But ae nicht at a kirk soiree,
She met a chiel fae Bower,
They coorted for twa weeks or three,
An noo the weddin’s ower.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
With thanks to my good freen for sending me such wonderful Caithness poems !
Trinkie
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And thanks to you Trinkie for sharing them......brilliant....
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When I wis Yeoung
When I wis young in days gone by
There wis something I wanted till do –
Dance all nicht in the BB Hall
Wi’ no one else but you!
We’d sway till e’ beat o’ music sae sweet
As it wafted through e’ air
Ye’d hold my hand, I’d feel so grand
In oor hearts there wis no care.
We’d waltz till a tune going roond an roond
In our heads, as we crossed the floor
Till the beat of three, jist you and me
I wished for naething more.
I’d feel the touch of your soft cheek
As it brushed so gently ‘gainst mine
I’d smile, but widna dare till speak
But Oh my eyes wad shine.
An’ then they’d play a merry tune
Ye’d whirl me off ma feet.
Twirlin an’ twirlin’ roon an’ roon
Wi’ steps so fast and neat.
An’ as the music stopped once more
Ye’d lead me to ma chair
An sit me doon aside yursel
An run yur fingers through ma hair.
Oh I wad sigh, how glad was I
That ye hed danced wi’ me
For now we’ve been merrid many a year
Nearly forty and three !!
( and many more !! )
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Well done for posting these, trinkie -what wonderful poems!
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Love poems
Rose Cottage
By Nita H Padwick. C. 1952
She was the sweetest little cot
Near an old stone bridge at Reay,
With a charming garden plot
Fenced by Caithness slatings grey;
Over the slates the fair rose clambers,
Pale and deep pink, rosy ramblers.
Marguerites most big and white
Mix with mallows soft pink sheaves,
And fill a corner with delight
While the fairy rambler weaves
All around, nigh everywhere,
It’s beautiful and rose-hung snare.
Spires of lupin, pinkish gold,
Rise here and there along the border,
An ash tree droops above the mould,
The grass is cut, all in good order.
By grey-flagged pavement small flowers grow,
Harebells blue gleam there, I know.
In the distance now, a dream,
Is that little cot of Reay,
Where the bright, swift-running stream
Flowed beneath three arches grey,
And the road led wide and far –
‘Goodbye, goodbye’’ Off sped my car.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Heart for Sale . by Achawa c. 1952.
The lass I lost at Achingale
Meant everything to me;
She was my life, she was my love
And now – my memory.
A memory of scented hair
Sweet lips and laughing eyes;
Soft, murmuring voice, caressing hands,
An earthly paradise.
To walk with her beneath the stars
Down kiss-strewn Lovers’ Lane,
To know once more the warm embrace
Deep in her arms again.
And now that I have advertised
This lonely heart for sale,
I’d like to think she missed me too,
That lass from Achingale.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The Trampin’ Lass. Sung at Dounreay by Donald Gunn.
Notes here by Jenny Horne... ‘ Trampin’ was a great industry many years ago,
And the tubs of lint were at a place near Wick. There are yet table cloths and sheets in the county made from the lint. The Trampin songs are very old.
The Trampin Lass.
As I went out one Saturday night,
To hae a wee bit stroll
Ne thinking o’ the time gone by,
Till I went past the toll.
Chorus –
Oh far are ye gaun, gie me yer han’
Oh how are ye deein’ says I .
Oh haud up yer head my bonnie lass
An dinna ye look sae shy.
I had no far gin by the toll,
The ‘carter’s brig’ did pass,
When fa dae ye think I chanced to meet
But my bonnie Trampin’ Lass.
Far are ye gaun, far dae ye stray,
Come tell to me yer name
An’ wid yer faither be angry noo
If I wid see ye hame?
We stood and crack’d for a wee while
About that thing ca’d love,
Ne’er thinking on the time gone by
Till the stars grew dark above.
She drew her shawl aroon her heed,
And this to me did say,
‘I think young man it’s getting late
An time I was away.’
She was working doon in the Milton fields
Trampin hanks o’ flax, ye ken
She liked it weel, had ten bob a week,
Besides her over time.
Said I ‘Lass what need ye care,
For gin ye will be mine,
I’ll tak ye to ma faither’s ha’
Where love will on us shine.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Trampin Lass
‘Far are ye gain, my trampin lass,
Whar are ye goin?’ says I
Whar are ye gain, gies yer han’
An dinna ye look sae shy.
‘Oh whar is yer home my trampin lass?
Oh tell me whar do ye stay?
‘If ye should like to know the place,
I live doon by Milton way.’’
Chorus –
‘Oh I should wish tae see ye hame,
For Milton’s far away.’
‘But I have a lad that loves me well
An’ he meets me half the way.’
Chorus.
‘Then trampin lass, I have no chance,
If your lad is handsome and gay.’
‘He’s loving and kind, and handsome of heart,
And we fixed the wedding day.’
Chorus.
~~~~~~~~~~~
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As the Rose grows Merry in Time.
As the Rose grows Merry in Time.
From The Silver Darlings by Neil M. Gunn.
Page 546
" This" said Finn, "is a song I heard from a woman in my native county of Caithness …"
As I came over yonder hill,
As the rose grows merry in time,
I met a fair maiden her name it was Nell
Saying, an you will be a true lover of mine.
You must make unto me a cambric shirt,
As the rose grows merry in time,
Without one stitch of your own needlework,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
You must wash it in yonder well,
As the rose grows merry in time,
Where water ne’er flowed nor dew ever fell,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"It’s questions three you have put to me,
As the rose grows merry in time,
But twice as many more you must answer to me,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"An acre of land you must plough to me,
As the rose grows merry in time,
Between the salt waters and the sands of the sea,
Before you can be a true love of mine.
"You must plough it with a wild ram’s horn,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And sow it all over with one peck of corn,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"You must reap it with a wild-goose feather,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And bind it together with the sting of a nether (adder )
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"You must build it on yonder sea,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And bring in the last sheaf dry unto to me,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"You must thresh it on yon castle wall,
As the rose grows merry in time,
And mind on your life don’t let one pickle fall,
Before you can be a true lover of mine.
"And – when you have finished your work,
As the rose grows merry in time,
You may call upon on me for your cambric shirt
And then you can be a true lover of mine."
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I am enjoying these too, Trinkie. Thank you
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Trinkie, than you for sharing these LOVEly poems with us! You always come up with something good!
I am living for today, always remembering yesterday, and looking forward to tomorrow!
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Love's Calendar by William Bell Scott
LOVE'S CALENDAR
By William Bell Scott.
1811- 1890 Painter and Poet.
( Scott, born in Edinburgh came from an artistic family.
He greatly inspired Rossetti.)
That gusty spring, each afternoon
By the ivied cot I passed,
And noted at that lattice soon
Her fair face downward cast;
Still in the same place seated there,
So diligent, so very fair.
Oft-times I said I knew her not,
Yet that way round would go,
Until, when evenings lengthened out,
And bloomed by the may-hedge row,
I met her by the wayside well,
Whose waters, maybe, broke the spell.
For, leaning on her pail she prayed
I'd lift it to her head,
So did I; but I'm much afraid
Some wasteful drops were shed,
And that we blushed, as face to face
Needs must we stand the shortest space.
Then when the sunset mellowed through
The ears of rustling grain,
When lattice wide open flew,
When ash-leaves fell like rain,
As well as I she knew the hour
At morn or eve I neared her bower.
And now that snow o'erlays the thatch,
Each starlit eve within
The door she waits, I raise the latch,
And kiss her lifted chin;
Nor do I think we've blushed again,
For Love hath made but one of twain.
-
I Will Make You Brooches
I WILL MAKE YOU BROOCHES.
by Robert Louis Stevenson .
I will make you brooches and toys for your delight
Of bird-song at morning and star-shine at night.
I will mae a palace fit for you and me
Of green days in forests and blue days at sea.
I will make my kitchen, and you shall keep your room,
Where white flows the river and bright blows the broom,
And you shall wash your linen and keep your body white
In rainfall at morning and dewfall at night.
And this shall be for music when no one else is near,
The fine song for singing, the rare song to hear !
That only I remember, that only you admire,
Of the broad road that stretches and the roadside fire.
-
Sweet Lavender
SWEET LAVENDER
By John Oxenham 1852-1941
The pains of hell had gotten hold of him.
He longed for death,
Dim were his eyes, feeble his pulse, and grim
His laboured breath.
His nurses' hearts were wrung with woe for him,
So sore his plight;
His cup of anguish trembled to the brim for him,
Without respite.
Sleep came not near to succour him.
All day he longed for night;
And through the dim night-watches still he lay
Craving the light.
"He cannot stand it long" they said
And yet
He did not die.
And each new thing they tried seemed but to whet
His agony.
"Unless he sleeps, he dies"... The sands ran low,
But nought availed
To check the on-come of the ruthless foe -
Pain still prevailed.
Then one, in pity, on his pillow laid
A tiny bag
Of Lavender, the simplest thing - rough made
Of silken rag.
Pale blue it was, like the Maddonna's gown -
Or English skies,
In Springtime, when the sweet bright days enthrone,
Life's ecstasies.
"What's that?" the sufferer groaned,
And sensed its sweet
With eagerness
"Sweet Lavender from home " ... and the word beat
Through his distress.
Sweet Lavender from home ! .... it wafted him
Across the seas -
He saw the path, the stile, the stream abrim
The sunlit trees -
Where he and one had wandered, heart to heart -
Wedded that day -
With four days more before they two must part -
He to the fray.
And she had pelted him with lavender's
Sweet budding sprays,
And like to heaven had been his love and hers
Those five full days.
He smiled, through all the torment of his pain,
And then.... he slept;
And all the ward, to salvage such great gain
On tip-toe crept.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
They know not whom to thank for that sweet grace -
Their hearts go out
To you, and you, in gratitude, in case
'Twas your good thought.
That tiny silken bag they hold, you see,
Beyond all price,
For, under God, three lives it saved, maybe
For Paradise.
-
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO HIS LOVE
By Christopher Marlowe 1564 - 1593
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses,
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle:
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold:
A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me and be my love.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning;
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
I am living for today, always remembering yesterday, and looking forward to tomorrow!
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