Furth o the hale kennt warld,
ayont Aberdeen, ayont New Deer
norlins, tae Cyaak or New Pitsligo
A lang strecht, a snell wind
an bare, bleak, barren Buchan.
Nihin there.
On then tae the Broch.
Haud hard a mintie.
Jimmy’s quiverin like a pointer
At yon on wee sign. Turclossie.
A loanin smoort wi gress an thrissells.
An auld chiel loupin on herne legs
Ower the track, ahint the shed.
Anither keekin roon the hoose.
Jimmy’s oot an staunin by the motor
Waitin, jist waitin, like feedin doos
langsyne in Princes Street gairdens.
Haunds oot flat, a wee puckle barley.
An here they come. Strangers tae me.
But them an Jimmy, ken each ither
efter sixty odd years, fit wye I canna tell,
binna the sticky-oot lugs.
Mebbe his faither’s stories pit us aff.
Fee’d tae a fairmer at echt,
sleepin abune the horses,
crackin the ice fae his breeks, his belly toom.
Till ae day, flicht an freedom.
The train sooth, a peyed job,
larnin his letters, saftenin his tongue.
But aye the auld wirds bided,
sneekin oot whiles faan nihin ense wad dae.
Nae couthie wirds but dour an thrawn
an fushenless an thole. Girnin, fechtin words
tae set a body richt.
But whit’s this plantie by the door?
Light an feathery, shairp an sweet,
I mind the sprigs that Papa tuik
An hidit in his Bible, tae caller us
Gin a preachin war langoursome an dreich.
Aippleringie, says Albert.
Thon’s aippleringie. Tak a bittie hame.