Just a thought..

Some weeks ago my lovely daughter posted this picture on her blog. A picture of a gull who wanted a share of her fish and chips.
I thought at the time that it was a picture which was begging for a caption.
I wondered for a while what the gull could be saying, then it struck me that the reply to the gull was far more likely to be interesting.

Who do you think you’re looking at?
What gives you the right to stare?
I’m only eating my fish and chips,
So get your arse out of there.

Beans Means Wind

This little verse was inspired by the reaction of my wife to the serious problems that baked beans cause to my intestinal tract. And, yes, I have to admit that everything in this poem actually happened.
I have signed the pledge now, haven't eaten a baked bean for almost 8 months now, and that's not surprising when you consider that Heinz baked beans, which are the only ones worth eating, cost nearly £2 a tin in Norway.

Beans Means Wind

A wind can blaw fae mony earts,
trow muddows, hills, an idder pairts.
Bit elweys i da life o man,
da warst wind comes oot o a can.

Heinz baked beans da label sed,
I hed some dan I guid ta bed.
Da duvet cudna had da breeze,
an shön wis blawn aboot me knees.

Da idder half took flight at wance,
da stink near hed her in a trance,
runnin fae da gaseous mass,
risin fae me rotten ****.

So left aleen i bed ta winder,
why me drawers wir riven sinder,
a'm signed da pledge, "Heinz Nae Mair",
lat wis aa hae fresher air.

Auld Rasmie

Shetlan's Screwed

Some time after I wrote the previous verse I got to thinking more about the proposed Viking Energy wind farm, and what people will feel if/when permission is given for the project to go ahead. My own feelings of hatred for Viking Energy, Shetland Islands Council, and indeed the shower at Hollyrood, were starting to come to a head when I wrote this verse.

Shetlan's Screwed

I can see da windmills turnin, an aa da hills ir spread,
wi da concraet an da metal, fae da windferm dat dey sed,
wid bring da money tae da isle, an gie wis wealth galore,
bit is onybody tocht foo da isle's treated laek a whore.

Prostituted fur da fact dat Scotlan's affshore isle,
canna be seen fae Edinburgh's parliamentary pile.
Maist fok sed dey didna want it, bit maist fok hed nae say,
Shetlan's screwed dat's a fact, da islands mirkest day.

So big da whirliegigs upö da isle, lat Vikin hae dir wye,
laeve paece tae da croftir tae fasten furt his kye.
Bit neever wance tink dat a Shetlan man excuses,
dat wirtless Shetlan Cooncil craetirs fir aa o dir abuses.

Auld Rasmie

Vikin Hill Fermir

On a recent visit to Shetland I took a wander up to the wind farm above Dale. The hill is a lovely place for views over Tingwall, and west towards Skeld,  but in my opinion the windmills do nothing to help the scenery.

A few, like those aren't too bad, but what will Shetland be like when Viking Energy build their proposed mega wind farm?
When their plans were first revealed, a year or two ago, I put pen to paper and came up with this mildly critical little scribble.


Vikin Hill Fermir

Dir’s aye been Shetlan crofters, wi sheep upö da hills,
da grain o money dat dey mak just aetin up wi bills.
Bit noo a Vikin fermir is set his sichts up high,
he wants at tak da hills ower, bit no fir grazin kye.

He’s gyain ta plant some whirlie gigs ta harness power fae wind.
He says  “They’ll not affect the view”, he böst tink fok ir blind.
Dey’ll be seen fae every angle, veesible fir teens o miles,
a pain ta da een dat’ll feel da sam, as a backside foo o piles.

Dis Vikin fermir tells wis,“It’s a golden opportunity,
to bring prosperity to Shetland, and help the local community.”
Of coorse he’s bound ta say dat, til he gets da go aheed,
be dan da common Shetlander'll be wisin he wis deed.

Da Vikin’ll mak some money, an wi luck he’ll pey his bills,
bit he’ll never gie a tocht ta da wye he’s ruined wir hills.
I maybe widna care sae muckle, if eftir he wis trow,
da whirlie gig crangs he leaves ahent cud shelter an auld hill yowe.

Bit eftir he’s med his money, he’ll hae nae tocht fur da place,
he’ll leave wir boanie isles laek a monimental disgrace.
Worn oot whirlie gigs, scattered ower da hills.
Nae view ta get da tourists back, ta help wis pay wir bills.

Vikins raided wis afore, dey cam here be da hunder
Dey nae doot gluffed da local fok, wi dir pillage, rape an plunder
Bit dis modern Vikin’s a gritter de’il, dan ony dat cam wi da sea
Fur dis plunderin Vikin fermir, haes da help o da SIC.


Auld Rasmie

Tesco's Psalm

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

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

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.