JANE DUNDAS RYDS THE BACK O’ BEYONT 1800
The rairin forties brew’d sic gales, Our whaler Speedy wadna speid. A’ faces turn’d green sowps o’ kail, An’ cleed here crew i’ mournin weede. Thae clarty cluds wear rathe wi’ rain, Wyndes wylld the mozan rattl’d, rock’d. Tae thole the thrawes o’ sic kein peyne, We gret an’ graned, distress’d we bock’d. The stacher’d scheip, ane shog it sheuk. At ilka chaup we’d skirl or sweir, Sae daezt an’ daft, the hatch misteuk, I stoyt’d doon the slidd’ry staire. Heelso’ergowdie, wha a clankie! Amaist dyd swoone, I slade tae bed. Kynde Maistresse King kindle couthie. A cod she happed aneath my heid. A grane an’ gruntle grumphie gies. Puir creeshy cronie, rybs she brake. Dooms dreidfu’ beis our destinies. E’en foules an’ hoggies fey, alake! The Leddies, Maistresse King thaim ca’s, Thae kimmer, fyfty wude wilcats, Sab clapp’d below atween four wa’s, Weans wretched seik or deed doukit. Gaes mad the doctor on his ain, An’ Wise, the wabster, cou’dna swoom; Quat wyefe back Hame, twa bairn alane. Yon mozan strak hym wi’ braid boom.
Guid Cap’tane King crippl’d wi’ gout Lysz straught on buirds, steeve an’ sore. Whan loups our boitt, rowlin about, His saul an’ wull keips huz in awe. Than Fortoun faur’d ane callant sair. I’ briny fa’s that gar hym fley. The brawnie mait cryes, ‘Haud a care! Belay, haurl taught an’ bowse away!’ Waur wather blaw Newe Holland’s shawre. Ane convict carlin scauds here fit. ‘Binna afeirde,’ quo King, ‘nae more!’ Laigh swoor the mait, ‘The Deil’s in it.’
Michael Small
February 7April 25, 2007