My favourite poem is the Hill o’ Bennygoak by Garry. I will list it for ye.<\/p>\n
BENNYGOAK\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The hill of the Cuckoo\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 by\u00a0\u00a0 Flora Garry<\/p>\n
It wis jist a skelp o the muckle furth,
\nA sklyter o roch grun,
\nFin granfadder’s fadder broke it in
\nFae the hedder an the funn.
\nGranfadder sklatit barn an byre,
\nBrocht water tae the closs,
\nPat fail-dykes ben the bare brae face
\nAn a cairt road tae the moss.<\/p>\n
Bit wir fadder sottert i the yard
\nAn skeppit amo’ bees
\nAn keepit fancy dyeuks and doos
\n‘At werna muckle eese.
\nHe bocht aul’ wissent horse an kye
\nAn skrimpit muck an seed;
\nSyne, clocherin wi a craichly hoast,
\nHe dwine’t awa, an deed.<\/p>\n
Midder’s growein aul’ an deen,
\nDwle’t an sma-bookit tee.
\nBut stull, she’s maister o her wark,
\nMy wark, it maisters me.
\nOch, I’m tire’t o plyterin oot an in
\nAmo’ hens an swine an kye,
\nKirnin amo’ brookie pots
\nAn yirnin croods an fye.<\/p>\n
I look far ower by Ythanside
\nTo Fyvie’s laich, lythe lan’s,
\nTo Auchterless an Bennachie
\nAn the mist- blue Grampians.
\nSair’t o the hull o Bennygoak
\nAn scunnert o the ferm,
\nGin I bit daar’t, gin I bit daar’t
\nI’d flit the comin’ term.<\/p>\n
It’s ull to thole on the first Spring day
\nFin the black earth lies in clods,
\nAn the teuchat’s wallochin to the ploo
\nAn the snaw-bree rins on the roads,
\nO, it’s ull tae thole i the stull hairst gloam
\nFin the lift’s a bleeze o fire;
\nI stan an glower, the pail i ma han’,
\nOn ma road oot tull the byre.<\/p>\n
Bit it’s warst ava aboot Wutsunday
\nFin the nichts are quaet an clear,
\nAn the floo’erin curran’s by i the yard
\nAn the green corn’s i the breer;
\nAn the bird ‘at gid this hull its name,
\nYon bird ye nivver see,
\nSits doon i the wid by the water-side
\nAn laachs, laich-in, at me.<\/p>\n
“Flit, flit, ye feel,” says the unco bird,
\n“There’s finer, couthier folk
\nAn kin’lier country hine awa
\nFae the hull o Bennygoak.”
\nBit ma midder’s growein aul’ an deen
\nAn likes her ain fireside.
\n‘Twid brak her hert to leave the hull:
\nIt’s brakkin mine to bide.<\/p>\n
YER FREENS.<\/strong> \u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Gordon\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 C <\/em>1998<\/strong><\/p>\n My favourite poem is the Hill o’ Bennygoak by Garry. I will list it for ye. BENNYGOAK\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 The hill of the Cuckoo\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 by\u00a0\u00a0 Flora Garry It wis jist a skelp o the muckle furth, A sklyter o roch grun, Fin granfadder’s fadder broke it in Fae the hedder an the funn. Granfadder sklatit barn an … Continue reading “Poetry”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-151","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/151","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=151"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/151\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":278,"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/151\/revisions\/278"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/dubbylane.com\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=151"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Maist folk wil' spik aboot ye,<\/strong>\nBit few wil' makk it plain;<\/strong>\nTae yer face, yer a real guede cheil<\/strong>\nTae yer back something ither again.<\/strong>\n\nFor gossips like a guede story<\/strong>\ncovered in gloss an' desire.<\/strong>\nNiver min' the truth, 'at gets in the wye,<\/strong>\nGee us gossop, anger and mire.<\/strong>\n\nFor the gossips aye nurture ambition<\/strong>\ntae embellish the best an' be tap o' the Toon.<\/strong>\nTae broadcast the latest rendition<\/strong>\nof their news, imagined, conived or hafroon.<\/strong>\n\nFor if folk wid jist ponder a moment,<\/strong>\nBe wished, an' lis'en tae yersel.<\/strong>\nDinna garble on like an' aul' mill lade<\/strong>\nIn a hurry bit naethin' tae tell.<\/strong>\n\nDinna carry that baggage o' caustic<\/strong>\nAboot folk that might hae deen wrang;<\/strong>\nTae yersel, yer dog or yer donkey,<\/strong>\nFar better tae sing an aul' sang.<\/strong>\n\nFor the sang it will lighten yer tear<\/strong>\nO' fit ye think might hiv been wrang;<\/strong>\n'Cos fin yer nae here, yive naethin' tae fear,<\/strong>\nYer dog an' yer donkey will jist stotter alang.<\/strong><\/pre>\n
\n<\/strong><\/div>\n
\nWhen will we see, your like again
\nThat fought and died for
\nYer wee bit hill and glen
\nAnd stood against him
\nProud Edward’s army
\nAnd sent him homeward
\nTae think again<\/div>\n
\nAnd autumn leaves lie thick and still
\nFor land that is lost now
\nWhich those so dearly held
\nAnd stood against him
\nProud Edward’s army
\nAnd sent him homeward
\nTae think again<\/div>\n
\nAnd in the past, they must remain
\nBut we can still rise now
\nAnd be the nation again
\nThat stood against him
\nProud Edward’s Army
\nAnd sent him homeward
\nTae think again<\/div>\n
\nAnd autumn leaves lie thick and still
\nFor land that is lost now
\nWhich those so dearly held
\nOh Flower Of Scotland
\nWhen will we see
\nYer like again
\nThat fought and died for
\nYer wee bit hill and glen
\nAnd stood against him
\nProud Edward’s Army
\nAnd sent him homeward
\nTae think again<\/div>\n<\/div>\nFae the Desk o' an Aull Loon<\/span><\/strong>\n\n\u00a91998 gordon<\/span><\/strong>\n\nThe Front Room in winter<\/span>\n\nWe sit on a cheer wi Winter ootside.<\/span>\nWe are half up the lum, bit frozen beside<\/span>\nlookin at the clubby book wi the aull tillie lump<\/span>\nwe ponder the order Mither might dee,<\/span>\nA clickie rug, a dress for Mike,<\/span>\na bird book for Dad an naithing for me.<\/span>\n\nAm still at the squeel, every lang day it seems,<\/span>\nMorrison the Dominee made an impression that lasts.<\/span>\nHe smokes een after the ither, lichts next fae the last,<\/span>\nHis hair is ah white, wi smokey side blasts.<\/span>\n\nIs year Kirsty Gordon will teach me real weel,<\/span>\nI'm considering gaan on wi the squeel.<\/span>\nAs a danger, the problem, an maybe the end<\/span>\nO' my loon aboot toon; I hiv tae get real.<\/span>\n\nThe morn I will think fit I will be,<\/span>\nbit the day Kirsty's ruler has chastened me.<\/span>\nMy knuckles are sair, my ego is flat.<\/span>\nBit roon the Bog road I will blossom wi that.<\/span>\n\nMiss Pallett decided tae teach us some French.\n<\/span>She bounces aroon wi nae bra tae be seen,<\/span>\nan the lads are agyte wi things that bounce by<\/span>\nThe French is nae problem wi boosoms on high.<\/span><\/pre>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\nLand of Hope and Glory<\/strong>\n\nFor the Test at Lords July 2009 Australia v The poms<\/strong>\n\nLand of cheats and umpires\nWho cannot see the ball.\nThe English eleven are masters\nScamming inside the rules\nWe see them in their Glory\nThey are such a bunch of fools\n\nAndrew Strauss he fingers the daisies\nto get around the ball\nbut we can see on replay\nit was no catch at all\nRudi Koertzen and Doctrove they scheme\nlets give Phillip Hughes a bad call\n\nLets waste time by the trainer\nsend out some gloves or coke\nsend out the physio for a time\nto give the batsmen a poke\ndon't worry that it's not cricket\nwe will treat it as a joke.\n\nNow we'll get Mike Hussey\nHe didn't touch the ball\nNo matter, we'll roar loudly\nto set another doubt.\nOld Koertzen cannot see much\nHe is sure to give Mike out.\n\nDo away with no balls\nStep over the line with ease\nDon't worry about the umpires\nThey are wafting in the breeze\nThe ECB have got them\nright up to ......\n\nGrahame Swann\n\n2009 we will win for sure\nwe'll cheat and conive\nand smile so demure.\n\n<\/pre>\n
My English Lass. c\/w 2010\n\nTo an English rose as fair as the morn<\/span><\/strong>\nThough as a rose she has no thorn<\/span><\/strong>\nShe has humour, wit and gayitee<\/span><\/strong>\nand readily produces a fine cup o tea.<\/span><\/strong>\n\nIn the mist of yonder ken,<\/span><\/strong>\nthe rose will bloom again and again<\/span><\/strong>\npervading the air with headdy parfum <\/span>\n<\/strong>Of red door or the heather in bloom.<\/span><\/strong>\n\nTrustworthy to a fault this english lass<\/span><\/strong>\nwould never disclose a secret or trust,<\/span><\/strong>\nhas the best afore her and the worst behind<\/span><\/strong>\nand a stable kindly forgiving mind.<\/span><\/strong>\n\nSo life will spin its acts and scenes<\/span><\/strong>\nlike fun and games on english greens.<\/span><\/strong>\nShe will prosper in wealth and mind<\/span><\/strong>\nand continue a life of the loving kind.\n\nHow gran' it wid be\nif we spoke the same words.\nNae problems wi' kennen the ither,\nOor life wid be a bleather.<\/span><\/strong>\n\nFROM A Secret admirer <\/span><\/strong>x x x <\/strong> <\/span>\n<\/pre>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"