Since the new extension to the Tesco supermarket in Lerwick, which will broaden the range of goods they sell, is due to open soon, and since Tesco now has the biggest religious following in Shetland, I thought it was time that this little scribble surfaced again.
Tesco's Psalm:
Tesco's me Loard I sanna want
dey hird me tae dir till
trow skelves o ower priced bruk
sae I can dö dir will.
Dey gie me puirless wirtless sowl
a wye ta fin a hame
an aese me burdened wallet
aa atil dir name.
If I sud geeng ta idder shops
as I maest laekly will
a'll lae me doon upö me knees
an pray fur Tesco’s till.
Dey lat me set me table oot
we maet dat is sae dear
an lubricate me tonsils
wi unkan foreign beer.
Trow aa me days upö dis eart
tesco lords ower me
intil dir aesed me wallet
an penniless I will be.
Auld Rasmie
Saturday, July 10, 2010
Saturday, July 3, 2010
Twinty Ten
I suppose the title should be "Hamefarin, Twinty Ten", since that is what I intended when I wrote it, but for some reason I just left it as it was since I had a plan to revisit the isles myself in twinty ten. So maybe this is more a reflection on my own desire to keep in touch with Shetland, rather than a general comment on hamefarers.
Either way, I would imagine the thoughts of all Shetland exiles are fairly much the same.
Twinty Ten
Da years grind by an we grow auld,
wir boadies weaken an geeng twa fauld,
we loss wir will ta hadd wir pairt,
upö da steid o da Loard's guid ert.
Bit trow da crubbit start we hae
ta glisk da boanie licht o day,
dir's aye a tocht dat keeps wis gyain,
dat we'll see igyen wir ain hamelaand.
Ta staand igyen upö a isles
dat we hed left sae mony miles.
Ta feel igyen da cauld saat air,
toosle trow wir auld grey hair.
Ta see da sichts dat we hadd dear
we wir ain een sae veev an cleer.
Ta staand upö wi ain banks broo
an ken wir hame ta Shetlan noo.
Ta meet da freends we'd left sae lang,
ta hear igyen a weel kent sang,
ta draw a sillock fae da steen,
an sook a reestit mutton been.
Da tochts ir mony trow da mind
o a sowel awa fae lang sinsyne.
So draw doon da fiddle, inveet wis ben,
wir aboot fir hamefarin twinty ten.
Auld Rasmie
Either way, I would imagine the thoughts of all Shetland exiles are fairly much the same.
Twinty Ten
Da years grind by an we grow auld,
wir boadies weaken an geeng twa fauld,
we loss wir will ta hadd wir pairt,
upö da steid o da Loard's guid ert.
Bit trow da crubbit start we hae
ta glisk da boanie licht o day,
dir's aye a tocht dat keeps wis gyain,
dat we'll see igyen wir ain hamelaand.
Ta staand igyen upö a isles
dat we hed left sae mony miles.
Ta feel igyen da cauld saat air,
toosle trow wir auld grey hair.
Ta see da sichts dat we hadd dear
we wir ain een sae veev an cleer.
Ta staand upö wi ain banks broo
an ken wir hame ta Shetlan noo.
Ta meet da freends we'd left sae lang,
ta hear igyen a weel kent sang,
ta draw a sillock fae da steen,
an sook a reestit mutton been.
Da tochts ir mony trow da mind
o a sowel awa fae lang sinsyne.
So draw doon da fiddle, inveet wis ben,
wir aboot fir hamefarin twinty ten.
Auld Rasmie
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Dis Wadder
Before I got round to adding any more of the old rubbish, and thanks to a sudden change in the weather, this little thought ran through my brain cell today.
The weather this year in West Norway has been, to say the least, SHI*E!!
But in typical Norwegian style the temperature can rise by up to 20 degrees centigrade in a frighteningly short space of time.
On the 1st of May last year I was wearing shorts, but the first time my bare legs have been revealed to the air this year was today, 1st of July. Global warming?????
Anyway, here's the little verse which sprang forth from this sudden climate change.
Dis Wadder
Na bairns, dis aafil wadder, a’m no seen da laek afore.
We hed seevin monts o winter, dan twa monts o slestery voar.
Hit’s only twartree ook sinsyne da lang drawers wir led awa,
an only six ir seven ooks fae I buksed ta me erse i da sna.
Bit noo short breeks ir ‘pö me trams, an little mair abön,
hit’s fairly pleased me auld worn hert ta see a grain o sun.
I hoop dis simmir bides a start ta tan me snippered hide,
a twartree monts o sun sae bricht wid mak me aafil blyde.
Bit da wye da wadder’s been dis year I hadd no muckle hoop,
da hairst i’ll no be far awa, anidder slestery sloop.
Bit fir enoo a’ll dö me best ta enjoy hit whin hit’s fine,
a’ll set me I da Sitterie Ooterie, wi a peerie gless o wine.
The weather this year in West Norway has been, to say the least, SHI*E!!
But in typical Norwegian style the temperature can rise by up to 20 degrees centigrade in a frighteningly short space of time.
On the 1st of May last year I was wearing shorts, but the first time my bare legs have been revealed to the air this year was today, 1st of July. Global warming?????
Anyway, here's the little verse which sprang forth from this sudden climate change.
Dis Wadder
Na bairns, dis aafil wadder, a’m no seen da laek afore.
We hed seevin monts o winter, dan twa monts o slestery voar.
Hit’s only twartree ook sinsyne da lang drawers wir led awa,
an only six ir seven ooks fae I buksed ta me erse i da sna.
Bit noo short breeks ir ‘pö me trams, an little mair abön,
hit’s fairly pleased me auld worn hert ta see a grain o sun.
I hoop dis simmir bides a start ta tan me snippered hide,
a twartree monts o sun sae bricht wid mak me aafil blyde.
Bit da wye da wadder’s been dis year I hadd no muckle hoop,
da hairst i’ll no be far awa, anidder slestery sloop.
Bit fir enoo a’ll dö me best ta enjoy hit whin hit’s fine,
a’ll set me I da Sitterie Ooterie, wi a peerie gless o wine.
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