Scot's Poetry!

And just in Time for Burns Supper Season! Turns out that one of the quickest ways to shirk off a lonely, homesick bug is to get involved in a good volunteering programme....or 2...or 3... Of course, helping out with the Rainbow Girlguides has been great fun on Tuesday nights but I needed to get my fix of library work. So I am now a volunteer "IT Buddy" as well as a volunteer with the Read Aloud programme through the Edinburgh Public Library. The former position will pair me up with older folk who need a wee bit more help with their technology skills. I work one on one with them to help with anything from learning how one operates a mouse effectively to setting up and using an email account. I am told that "patience" is key but all the same I think that it sounds like a great chance to get to know these unique people that make up Edinburgh.

I just finished with the Read Aloud orientation tonight and I am excited. The programme is set up for a volunteer or two to go with a library staff member into care/nursing homes to read people with memory problems different poems. There is a theme for each visit, sometimes props and pictures as well as conversation prompts to get people responding to the poetry. We practiced tonight, and although I stuck with the trusty e.e. cummings poems I found, it was marvelous to hear some real authentic Scottish poetry from these different members of my current community.

One of the poems read tonight called "Kidsong/Bairnsong" by Liz Lochhead conjured up some interesting conversation about the old "Scot" language. Click here if you want the poetress herself to read it to you (the poem bit starts at about 2:10). This poem is "a wee bilingual poem" as it is first written in Scot and then in "English", with a stanza of reflection at the end about trying to write poetry in an unnatural forced language that is not your own (in this case, "English"). Many tonight pointed out that school children were beaten by their headmasters and poets frowned upon at one time for speaking or writing in Scot. I realized tonight, after some real good flavour of this rich language and culture, what a sad world it would be though if this unique way of expression had been lost through these oppressions. It indeed takes a Utahn/Texan like myself some time to get my mind around the descriptions and follow the narratives but no matter how little I understand, the ride is great fun.

And another favourite of mine from the evening was read by a dear older lady sitting next to me. She stood up and read this very animated poem, playing up her brogue quite a lot. Indeed, in some ways this poem is hard to follow but truly I think every parent can relate, even if they don't speak proper Scot.

A Dug! A Dug!

by Billy Keyes

Hey, Daddy, wid ye get us a dug ?
A big broon alsation ur a wee white pug ?
Ur a skinny wee terrier, ur a big fat collie?
Aw, daddy,get us a dug.  Will yi ?

Whit! An' whose dug'll it be when it durties the flerr,
An' wets the carpet and messes the sterr?
Its me ur yer mammy'll be tane furra mug.
Away oot'n play.  Yer no getting a dug.

But daddy thur gi'en them away
Down therr at the RSPCA.
Yu'll get wan fur nothin, so ye will.
Aw. Daddy, get us a dug, Will ye?

Dji hear um?  Oan aboot dugs again?
Ah think that yins goat dugs'n the brain.
Ah know whit yu'll get: a skite oan the lug
If ah hear ony merr aboot this bloomin dug.

Aw, Daddy, it widny be dear tae keep
An'ah'd make it a basket fur it tae sleep.
An'ah'd take it fur runs away ower the hull.
Aw, Daddy, get us a dug.  Will ye?

A doan't think thurs embdy like you:
Yi could wheedle the twist oot a flamin' corkscrew.
Noo! Get doon aff my neck.  Gies nane a yur hugs.
Aw right.  THAT'S ANUFF. Ah'll get yi a dug.


Aw Daddy.  A dug. A dug.