Kirsty's Opinion

Fine div I ken what ails yon puddock, Janet,
    That aince would hae her neb set up sae hie;
There's them that disna' seem to understan' it,
    I'se warrant ye it's plain eneuch to me!

Maybe ye'll mind her man - a fine wee cratur,
    Owre blate to speak (puir thing, he didna' daur);
What gar'd him fecht was jist his douce-like natur';
    Gairmans is bad, but Janet's tongue was waur.

But noo he's hame again, ye wadna ken her,
    He isna' feared to contradic' her flat;
He smokes a' day, comes late to get his denner,
    (I mind the time she'd sort him weel for that!)

What's gar'd her turn an' tak' a road divairgint?
    Ye think she's wae^[1] because he wants a limb?
Ach! haud yer tongue, ye fule - the man's a sairgint,
    An' there's nae argy-bargyin' wi' him!

Violet Jacob

Violet Jacob was a Scottish writer celebrated for her poetry and historical novels. Writing in both English and Scots, she is best known for her collection of poems 'Songs of Angus' published in 1915. Jacob's work captures the essence of rural Scotland and its people, with a strong emphasis on local dialects and traditions. In addition to her poetry, she also wrote several novels, short stories, and a memoir. Her legacy remains significant in Scottish literature.

Violet Jacob

The Beadle O' Drumlee

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

Hogmanay

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

The Tod

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

The Whustlin' Lad

Violet Jacob, Simple Poetry

English

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Rejected

I'm fairly disjaskit, Christina,
    The warld an' its glories are toom;
I'm laid like a stane whaur ye left me,
    To greet wi' my heid i' the broom.

A' day has the lav'rock been singin'
    Up yont, far awa' i' the blue,
I thocht that his sang was sae bonnie,
    Bit it disna' seem bonnie the noo!

A' day has the cushie been courtin'
    His joe i' the boughs o' the ash,
But gin Love was wheeped frae the pairish,
    It isn't mysel' that wad fash!

For losh! what a wark I've had wi' ye!
    At mairkit, at kirk, an' at fair,
I've ne'er let anither lad near ye -
    An' what can a lassie need mair?

An' oh! but I've socht ye an' watched ye,
    Whauriver yer fitsteps was set,
Gin ye had but yer neb i' the gairden
    I was ...

Violet Jacob

The Tod

There's a tod aye blinkin' when the nicht comes doon,
Blinkin' wi' his lang een an' keekin' roond an' roon',
Creepin' by the fairmyaird when gloamin' is to fa',
And syne there'll be a chicken or a deuk awa' -
Aye, when the guidwife rises, there's a deuk awa'!

There's a lass sits greetin' ben the hoose at hame,
For when the guidwife's cankered she gie's her aye the blame,
An' sair the lassie's sabbin' an' fast the tears fa',
For the guidwife's tint her bonnie hen an' it's awa' -
Aye, she's no sae easy dealt wi' when her gear's awa'!

There's a lad aye roamin' when the day gets late,
A lang-leggit deevil wi' his hand upon the gate,
And aye the guidwife cries to him to gar the toddie fa',
For she canna thole to let her deuks an' hens awa' -
Aye, the muckle bubbl...

Violet Jacob

The Heid Horseman

O Alec, up at Soutar's fairm,
    You, that's sae licht o' he'rt,
I ken ye passin' by the tune
    Ye whustle i' the cairt;

I hear the rowin' o' the wheels,
    The clink o' haims an' chain,
And set abune yer stampin' team
    I see ye sit yer lane.

Ilk morn, agin' the kindlin' sky
    Yer liftit heid is black,
Ilk nicht I watch ye hameward ride
    Wi' the sunset at yer back.

For wark's yer meat and wark's yer play,
    Heid horseman tho' ye be,
Ye've ne'er a glance for wife nor maid,
    Ye tak nae tent o' me.

An' man, ye'll no suspec' the truth,
    Tho' weel I ken it's true,
There's mony ane that trails in silk
    Wha fain wad gang wi' you.

But I am just a serving lass,
    Wha toils to get her breid,...

Violet Jacob

Jeemsie Miller

There's some that mak' themsels a name
Wi' preachin', business, or a game,
There's some wi' drink hae gotten fame
    And some wi' siller:
I kent a man got glory cheap,
For nane frae him their een could keep,
Losh! he was shapit like a neep,
    Was Jeemsie Miller!

When he gaed drivin' doon the street
Wi' cairt an' sheltie, a' complete,
The plankie whaur he had his seat
    Was bent near double;
And gin yon wood had na been strang
It hadna held oor Jeemsie lang,
He had been landit wi' a bang,
    And there'd been trouble.

Ye could but mind, to see his face,
The reid mune glowerin' on the place,
Nae man had e'er sic muckle space
    To haud his bonnet:
An owre yon bonnet on his brow,
Set cockit up owre Jeemsie's pow,
Th...

Violet Jacob

The Jacobite Lass

My love stood at the loanin' side
    An' held me by the hand,
The bonniest lad that e'er did bide
    In a' this waefu' land -
There's but ae bonnier to be seen
    Frae Pentland to the sea,
And for his sake but yestre'en
    I sent my love frae me.

I gi'ed my love the white white rose
    That's at my feyther's wa',
It is the bonniest flower that grows
    Whaur ilka flower is braw;
There's but ae bonnier that I ken
    Frae Perth unto the main,
An' that's the flower o' Scotland's men
    That's fechtin' for his ain.

Gin I had kept whate'er was mine
    As I hae gie'd my best,
My he'rt were licht by day, and syne
    The nicht wad bring me rest;
There is nae heavier he'rt to find
    Frae Forfar toon to Ayr,
As aye I...

Violet Jacob

A Change O' Deils

"A change o' deils is lichtsome." -
Scots Proverb.


My Grannie spent a merry youth,
    She niver wantit for a joe,
An gin she tell't me aye the truth,
    Richt little was't she kent na o'.

An' whiles afore she gae'd awa'
    To bed her doon below the grass,
Says she, "Guidmen I've kistit^[1] twa,
    But a change o' deils is lichtsome, lass!"

Sae dinna think to maister me,
    For Scotland's fu' o' brawlike chiels,
And aiblins^[2] ither folk ye'll see
    Are fine an' pleased to change their deils.

Aye, set yer bonnet on yer heid,
    An' cock it up upon yer bree,
O' a' yer tricks ye'll hae some need
    Afore ye get the best o' me!

Sma' wark to fill yer place I'd hae,
    I'll seek...

Violet Jacob