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Elphinstone Kist   Doric Verse

Gowden Beech Hedge     by: Henderson, John, BA Hons DPE

Claise sklentin by kirk’s steeple prood,
Maist simmer’s morns I mynd,
Douce sunlicht tappin skilhoose quait,
lts warmin steel tae rin,
Up tae bless broon pastures,
Thur dykes an gates an seg.
Whiles pirr-winnie sterts tae ressle,
Leaves oan braw beech hedge.

Fan Autumn harrs cam swirlin doon,
‘An mornin sun jist girns,
Tae fricht awa the gloom aroon,
St Cyrus folks an fairms.
But fan November fetches,
Snell win oot o Nor-East,
The gowden beech noo weil clippit,
Leaves tummld, an diseased.

Suin icy roads an brick-herd grun,
They veesit, times maun bide.
Snaw fas deep its cosy sheet,
Syne raxin faur an wide.
Ainly wins oot o sou-west,
Wull mak this scunner shift.
Though bairns an bare-wid hedge think,
‘Bide-a-wee, as yer Gweed’s gift.’

Fan Spring-time’s gants wauken the earth,
Mak snaw-drops keek aince mair.
Daffies they flicher an stacher tae staun,
Gowd trumpets sniffin’ waarm air.
Bit oor beech hedge dozes langer,
Aa its strength tae weer tae,
Fer muckie-growen’s needit daen,
Fore freenly mavis cams tae lay.

Aince mair skirtin kirk’s steeple prood,
Maist simmer’s dawns I fin.
Caller sun kittles skilhoose waa,
lts sheenin steel tae rin.
Up tae wauk sids a-sleepin,
Gairded by stane-dykes an seg.
Whiles pirr-winnie sterts tae banter,
Brenches-oan oor-shorn beech hedge.



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