Nae Room the Inn
Wee Charlie
Aroon the hinneren’ o Aprile A tuk a kin’ o a notion A wud gang ower tae the gran’ city o Perth on the banks o the Tay. Mae raison o gane wus tae bae at the getherin’ o the Scots Language Society that wus tae bae hel’ there. A hae baen afore an’ stied wae a guid wumman wha run a guid Guest Hoose ca’ed Dunallen, an thocht it wud dae me agen.
This wumman toul’ mae that hir Gran’faither had hailed frae, wud ye beleeve, Bellymoney, an his name wus Gamble. Sae wae a’ this in min’ A gein hir a ring tae book in for the Friday nicht an whit dae ye think, there wus nae room in the Inn. Efter ringin’ roon twa ir three ither places A thocht A had a wile bad telephone manner tae at the hinneren’ A wus toul’ the horses wus rinnin’ at the racecoorse in Perth. But iverything wusnae loast for A wus guid an plaesed wae maesel’ whun A wus able tae get a bed at anither guid place ca’ed “Comely Bank Cottage” an had a guid nicht’s rest an in the mornin’ as a sut doon tae a bite that wud hae sustained a wee army A got takin’ tae ma guid host wha axed whit brocht me tae these pairts. A teilt hir a’ aboot the Ulster-Scots Language Society an oor interest in the guid auld Leid an oor dreams for the future. She soart o luked a bit thunner struk; efter a minit she tae ma amazemint gaed oot o’ the room an brocht bak twa books o’ poems, plays an stories, wud ye beleeve written bae hir great granfaither a’ wrote in maistly the Auld Scots Tongue. She said he had bain a tailor in Coatbridge an lo’ed tae write in the auld Leid. He wrote aroon the 1850s an his name wus Alexander Wardrop.
The kin’ wumman then axed if a wud lake tae hae the len’ o yin o the books in questin. A wus in a state o delicht an tuk hir up on the offer an’ hae arrived hame wae nae less nor a copy o’ “ Mid-Calder Fair, Poems and Sketches,” wae hir blessins tae publish onything frae it in oor ain Ullans. A’m noo mair nor gled there wus nae room in the Inn. This is nae lie nor borrowed story for A wus that man.
At Hame Amang the Bairns
From “Mid-Calder Fair” by ALEXANDER WARDROP
Wha ever thinks this life o’ oors
Is hardly worth the leevin’,
An’ girns awa’ contentment’s ’oors,
An’ tynes its “gain” wi’ grievin’,
Micht fin’ relief for a’ their grief,
There’s joy to a’ wha learns
To spend a canty ’oor at e’en
At hame amang the bairns.
Hoo mony wretched ’oors are spent,
Hoo mony fortunes wasted,
Wi’ croods on warldly pleesure bent,
Whilk pleesure’s never tasted!
Gif they’d but try this ’oor at e’en
That labour daily earns,
They ne’er wad gang, sae far to wrang —
Frae hame amang the bairns.
I think I hear the critic speer,
Is there to be nae ootin’?
An’ mony ither senseless jeer,
An’ sentiment o’ doutin’,
Ay, weel-a-wat, we’ll think o’ that,
The fire heats mony airns;
But wha’ll forget the pleesure met
At hame amang the bairns.
Ye toils there are an’ troubles rife —
Wha ever leev’d withoot them? —
No a’ the search in human life
Has read or heard aboot them.
But this is ae bit joy we’ll ring —
A joy to a’ wha learns —
To leave the public hoose an’ sing —
At hame amang the bairns.
Next: Rab an tha Hare
Previous: A Wheen mair Rhymes
Contents: Ullans: The Magazine for Ulster-Scots, Nummer 7 Wunter 1999
