Butterflees

Posted by Iain Mcgregor

A wad like tae walcome the new SLC blogger, Margaret Tong tae the wab-steid, an howp she’s yable tae gie us, back in the auld kintrae a sauch o Californian Scots ongauns. Walcome Margaret.

 

Thay’r back! The hert-scaud o aw gairdners. Thay flit fae yin cabbitch blade tae the neist, an fleet in the pechs o wund, jiggin an tummlin simmersets.

Noo is a laddie A didnae like aetin cabbitch, kail nor sproots sae whan awbody gaed deleerit ower yon white butterflees flaffin aboot in thair gairdens A thocht thaim aw gyte. An as for the green kail-wirms A yaised tae gaither thaim in a jam-jaur an stowe thaim on cabbitch blades till thay chynged intae the braw white butterflees an syne A allood thaim tae win free. A cuid nivver unnerstaund whit wey A wis nae weel likit. They war jist bonnie butterflees.

Hoo things hiv chynged, whan ye hiv yer ain gairden! Ye spen oors brairdin seed, an transplantin weel leukit-efter wee plants, an alang comes yin o yon white butterflees, lays it’s eggs unner the kail-blade an in three-fower days a wheen o wee nippit kail-wirms hiv gutst aw yer haurd darg!

A hiv screed a wee poyem anent this scunner, ye micht like a deek?

 

R. I. P. -- C. W. B.

Primpit in white ye gie a hyne-awa keek,

Nae thrait, nor faut, nor ill-will dae ye hail,

Bit birl the shamit-reel on pechs o Simmer’s reek,

Stertin life an getting fou on blades o kail.

 

Ye ken naethin o ingines nor furrin tappietoories,

See nae skaith in layin eggs aw day,

Nae yaise tae lairn the iambic in tapsalteeries,

Nae yaise tae read, tae screive, tae wirk, tae pray.

 

Bonnie baistie wi body saft is sable,

Yer pins sae skleff, yer een sae yellae an bricht,

Sae monie speirins A cuid speir at ye, gin A war yable,

Bit you maun dee, noo, afore the nicht!

 

Hingin-luggit A smirk, bit your daith’s jist a raivelt thread,

Nae murners, weel-pitten in bleck, whan you ir deid!

 

Weel A doot it’s cabbitch fae 'Tesco' agane the nicht melled wi champit tatties an yitmeal, sottert in a het pan. Fush an chups micht bi mair goolie mind?

 

Ta – ta the noo.

 

Iain.

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