Rabbie Burns mae lang be deid,
McGonigal jus aff his heid,
Auld Wull can keep Alas poor Yoric,
Fur heres a poem all in the Doric,
Written on these lang nichts cauld
By 29 year? auld Ilene Gauld.
I jint yer band in 99,
Abidys sae freenly, its affa fine.
I fair liked the sponsored waak up Bennachie
tho the heicht wis a thochtie frichtenin fur me!!
The heid bummers in charge are John n Bill.
In the circle yeve tae mine an keep yer feet still.
Theres a helleva lot o things tae mine.
I wish Id learnt fin I wis a wee quine.
I practice ma chanter for fylies maist days,
An Im really tryin, well so ma man says!
Theres birls an doublins an even a strike.
Bill says its lik lairnin tae ride a bike.
Jigs an strathspeys were lairnin tae play,
bit ma fingers are nae very swak I wid say.
So Im takin ma cod liver ile wi ma tae,
cause Id like tae play tempo athoot guddles yin day.
Bill n John hiv the patience o saints,
An Im learnin lots, so Ive nae complaints.
Johns gammie hoch isna keeping him doon,
hes shochlin aboot tae mak sure were in tune.
Five, sivven, nine are the numbers tae mine,
Playin yer pipes and marchin in time.
Bill says use yer een an the floppy things tae,
But its nae aye sae easy, Ive a lot yet tae dae!
Thon heid-bummer chiel that works the reed sash,
Telt ma tae write a poem, so I'll gie it a bash!
My debut wi the Band wis a smashin start,
A Taste o Grampian at Thainstone Mart.
Dennis an me arrived first, an the wither wis fine,
Bit far wis John Baillie? I wis sure they'd said nine!
Hid we got the rang date, wid we wait ony langer?
Syne a was revealed, they'd taen Dougald's aul banger!!
I wis affa vrocht-up, wid I be able tae hack it?
Wid I play the richt notes, or mak a damned racket?
Then a mannie fae Turra hid tae play pipes wi John,
So John taucht him the scale, an let us get on!
Fin Thainstone wis deen we boardit the bus,
An set aff for Forres athoot ony fuss.
Wir driver, a bald-heided mannie ca'ad Ian,
An ambulance driver that files drives for Cheyne.
The lippy wee chappie tyrannisit us sair,
Especially us ladies, sae fragile an fair!
Bit he got his come-uppence at the end o the day,
Ees peer heid wis dirlin, an reed, I wid say.
The main street in Forres looked crowdit tae me.
I wis vrocht-up again, I canna tell a lee.
In an oot o circles, marchin up an doon the street,
The fowk were in fine fettle an clappin tae the beat.
Fower bob for a pee, an nae bush tae be seen!
I'm glad I brocht ma purse, if ye ken fit I mean.
A chip stop at Luigi's, I'll gie ye a wager,
Fa'd be first in the queue, aye, John the Pipe Major!
Ane o clock at the mart in Insch,
Wid it bide dry? It micht at a pinch!
Nae chance, says Dougald, here's a passin shooer,
Bit it's nae passin quick eneuch, it's startin tae poor!
Well, we formed wir ranks, bit the wither got worse.
The peer organiser, did weel nae tae curse!
Bit the heavens opened as we dirded doon the street,
Rainin cats 'n dogs, muckle poodles at wir feet!
We hid tae watch we didna skite whilst marchin on the grass.
Cause if ye werena canny, ye could land on yer airse.
Things were really "buzzin" as we played that efterneen.
Aye, the bliddy wasps were fleein aroon wir lugs 'n een.
Drumdarroch House wis wir next place tae play.
We got lovely hame-bakes an a cuppie o tay.
There wis "wanted posters" tae the richt, in the door.
Sandy's photie wis there in amongst mony mair.
Well, we'll nae forget Insch, twas a helleva day.
We're an "All Weather Band", rain didna stop play!
An if we'll be playin at Insch next year, a request for ye,
Pipe Major John,
Never mind "Cover off", jist get us a float, an we'll play again,
Wi the cover on!!
This note will serve tae excuse my dother,
Fae getting her knickers in a sotter!
She's sic a shy an timid quine,
And in competitions jist canna jine.
Her taorluaths - nae great. Her fingers nae supple.
And as for her doublings, she wid drink a couple!!
She's getting the grips wi some things I wid say.
An her strikes? Aye she'd picket if it helped her tae play!
She'd hiv nae chance o sleepin the nicht afore.
An in the morning "thin rins" galore!
Her sark tail widna bide fite affa lang.
She'd be vrocht-up the notes wid come oot a wrang.
She kens she's nae a brilliant piper.
For God's sake, dinna mak her hyper!
So try nae tae gie her ony mair buther.
I'm feelin gey squeamish, can it be affa far?
Wir on wir wye tae the Gaitherin at Braemar.
Peer Moira's lookin real peelie-wally tee,
Fa's geen tae spew first? I hope it's nae me!
It's thon drizzly rain, that weets ye richt through.
It's affa damp, an there's a queue for the loo!
We'll need tae tune up, cause we're on in a file.
There's a lang wye tae waak, it could be a mile!
Waitin for the Royals tae arrive wis gey caal.
Bit we huddled thegither, baith young 'n aul.
Syne Bobbies were aawye, an Range Rovers tee.
Then we a mairched ahin them, twas aboot half past three.
The Queen looked a picture in her bonny pink suit.
Bit her Mither stole the show, athoot ony doot!
The Blairs were gobsmacked wi athing they'd seen
Cherie wore a jacket, twas skittery green!
Bit they didna bide lang, an we folly'd them hame.
Well, maybe nae quite! We wis foonert jist the same!
Syne we headed for hame, an the Pipe Major cam forth,
Wi a cosy wee drammie, caad "Cock o the North!"
Fin yer daen Jolly Phonics
Ask ony Primary one
If an “s” is definitely “si”
As in sin or sit or sun!
Which brings ma on, conveniently
Tae the sang ca’ad “Auld Lang Syne”
Can ye see a “z” in the hinmaist wird?
It jist isna “Auld Lang Zyne!”
Ma heid gings feel fin I hear a “zyne”
Ma hubby shouts at the telly.
Should we hiv tae pit up wi a’ these “zynes?”
Not on your flippin nelly!!
So, fit exactly is a “zyne?”
An’ fa put it intil wir sang?
We hiv tae eradicate these “zynes”
We canna sing it wrang!
So come on fellow sufferers
Dinna zit in zilence!
We canna zing these zilly “zynes”
Nor will we resort tae violence!
We’ll educate them that dinna ken.
We’ll hiv tae gie them a sign!
We’ll post a blog upon the web
For the sake of Auld Lang Syne!!
Ilene Gauld (née Winchester) - 01/01/09.