Dear Diary-Dragi Dnevnič e
I cannot write, zour paper is too innocently white.
Ne mogu da pišem, papir ti je isuviše nevino bijel.
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Edward, Edward. A Scottish Ballad
MODERN TRANSLATION (original below)
'Why does your sword so drip with blood,
Edward, Edward?
Why does your sword so drip with blood?
And why so sad are ye, O?'
'O, I have killed my hawk so good,
Mother, mother:
O I have killed my hawk so good:
And I had no more but he, O.'
'Your hawk's blood was never so red,
Edward, Edward:
Your hawk’s blood was never so red,
My dear son I tell thee, O.'
'O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my red-roan steed,
That once was so fair and free, O.'
'Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Edward, Edward:
Your steed was old, and we have got more,
Some other evil ye fear, O.'
'O, I have killed my father dear,
Mother, mother:
O, I have killed my father dear,
Alas! and woe is me, O!'
'And what penance will ye suffer for that,
Edward, Edward?
And what penance will ye suffer for that?
My dear son, now tell me, O.'
'I'll set my feet in yonder boat,
Mother, mother:
I’ll set my feet in yonder boat,
And I’ll fare over the sea, O.'
'And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye do with your towers and your halls,
That were sae fair to see, O?'
'I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
Mother, mother:
I’ll let them stand till they down fall,
For here never more may I be, O.'
'And what will ye leave to your children and your wife,
Edward, Edward?
And what will ye leave to your children and your wife
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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Gil Morrice. A Scottish Ballad
Gil Morrice was an erles son,
His name it waxed wide:
It was nae for his great riches,
Nor zet was mickle pride;
Bot it was for a lady gay,
That livd on Carron side.
'Quhair sall I get a bonny boy,
That will win hose and shoen;
That will gae to Lord Barnard's ha',
And bid his lady cum?
And ze maun rin my errand, Willie,
And ze may rin wi' pride;
Quhen other boys gae on their foot,
On horse-back ze sall ride.'
'O no! O no! my master dear!
I dare nae for my life;
I'll no gae to the bauld barons,
For to triest furth his wife.'
'My bird Willie, my boy Willie,
My dear Willie,' he sayd:
'How can ze strive against the stream?
For I shall be obeyd.'
'Bot, O my master dear!' he cry'd,
'In grene wod ze're zour lain;
Gi owre sic thochts, I walde ze rede,
For fear ze should be tain.'
'Haste, haste, I say, gae to the ha',
Bid hir cum here wi speid:
If ze refuse my heigh command,
Ill gar zour body bleid.
'Gae bid hir take this gay mantel,
'Tis a gowd bot the hem;
Bid hir cum to the gude grene wode,
And bring nane bot hir lain:
And there it is, a silken sarke,
Hir ain hand sewd the sleive;
And bid hir cum to Gill Morice,
Speir nae bauld barons leave.'
'Yes, I will gae zour blacke errand,
Though it be to zour cost;
Sen ze by me well nae be warn'd,
In it ze sall find frost.
The baron he is a man of might,
He neir could bide to taunt;
As ze will see before it's nicht,
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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The Misty Hidden Of Mine/Moje Magleno Skriveno
In the daybreak song
Will take the forests into an embrace
My never hoped for
Heartbeat cut off the heart
Will spill the walls into a midnight sound
Mine within the chains treasure in my hands
Will toll cursed from the towers
Sadly the song of awakening
Into the deafness
Mine into nothing flooded water
A current beginning into an endless
Will cut the seams and sew
A new array for the soul's nakedness
Mine on my palm colourful lonely butterfly
Moving the wings like eaves in the tempest
Maddened by the possibility of flight
My never enough overcome dawn
In an empty bad
Where I am enfolded up to the point of no recognition
Mine sharpened pencils
Regularly waiting for the words
Will be broken halved in them
Mine from fatigue cracked mirror
That each morning I feed with a smile
Twinkling yearning for the truth
Mine long time ago lost waiting
On the benches below the trees
Despair chained
Prever quoted ages of circles
On my skins
Digging the death memory
Mine after forty days black nails uncut
digging the memory of death
Mine encircled in the dewdrops of crying eyelashes
Which silently I close
With the soul limited sight
Mine sealed lips
Quivering of love
To you I will surrender God
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Why Do I Write
I write from my sadness
I write from the madness
I write because I have something to say
I write to pass the day
I write only from the heart
I write for sometimes I am not that smart
Whatever is in head just comes out on paper (in this case a word document) , and I go with the flow
Write to let my mind go
I follow my hand to where ever it takes me
I write all the things that I can see
I write when I am happy, but not as much
I write from my heart that you can touch
I write because I’d go insane
I am driven to write quell my pain
At times I feel alone so I write what I am feeling
I write for it is self-healing
Confident not so I write it all away
I write and write to pass the day
I write to comfort my soul that cries out in the night
I write for love is always out of sight
I write so I don't have to cry any more
I write for I have no one to adore
I write so someone somewhere will hear my plea
I write for someone is out there for me
I am lost and I the clown
I write to turn my frown upside down
I write to embrace the sadness I hide inside
I write with my heart opened wide
I write to silence the ghost
I write for I’ve been let down by the one I loved the most
I write through the stormy weather
I write for I am light as a feather
I am not a writer nor am I a poet
I write for the grief I do know it
I will write until I draw my last breath
I write because I'll die a lonely death
I have to write for strangers delight
I write because I have to write
I write for my own happiness
I write to relieve my stress
I write because I have no other choice
I write as if I was writing a letter
I write because I can’t do any better
I write because I am afraid not to
I write for this is what I do
I write for I give a damn
[...] Read more
poem by Wilfred Mellers
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Edom O' Gordon
It fell about the Martinmas,
Quhen the wind blew shril and cauld,
Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,
'We maun draw to a hauld.
'And quhat a hauld sall we draw till,
My mirry men and me?
We wul gae to the house o' the Rodes,
To see that fair ladie.'
The lady stude on hir castle wa',
Beheld baith dale and down,
There she was ware of a host of men,
Cum ryding towards the toun.
'O see ze nat, my mirry men a'?
O see ze nat quhat I see?
Methinks I see a host of men:
I marveil quha they be.'
She weend it had been hir luvely lord,
As he cam ryding hame;
It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon,
Quha reckt nae sin nor shame.
She had nae sooner buskit hirsel,
And putten on hir goun,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the toun.
They had nae sooner supper sett,
Nae sooner said the grace,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were light about the place.
The lady ran up to hir towir head,
Sa fast as she could hie,
To see if by her fair speeches,
She could wi' him agree.
But quhan he see this lady saif,
And hir yates all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his look was all aghast.
'Cum doun to me, ze lady gay,
Cum doun, cum doune to me;
This night sall ye lig within mine armes,
To-morrow my bride shall be.'
[...] Read more
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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A bit of being cut off from a memory/Moj
Echoes closely down the hall like nothing
Thoughts ajar in a big silence
Like a door I must not go through
Unfulfilled thoughts
Left to beat in somebody else’s wells
The moments dragged into nowhere
Through a glass pane pacified in memory
A shivering hope will unveil the veil
Open the eyes
My shadow across the sky
Who knows how many times
Will beg for everything
That doesn’t want to give in
Like a wave drowned in the sea of waiting
Tearful song it will cry
In the foam out of the foam
My newly born dawn
Moj
Od sjeć anja otkinut trač ak trajanja
Što hodnicima blizu odzvanja ko ništa
U velikom ć utanju misli otškrinute
Ko vrata kroz koja ne smijem da prođ em
Ostać e nedomišljene da nekom drugom
Bunarima kucaju
Trenuci odvuč eni u nepovrat
Kroz okna od stakla umirena sjeć anjem
Nada što se batrga
Skinuć e velove otvoriti oč i
Moja sjena preko neba
Po ko zna koji put
Iskać e što se neć e dati
Morem išč ekivanja udavljeni talas
Proplakać e pjesmu
U pjeni iz pjene rođ ena
Moja nova zora
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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My/Moj
A bit of being cut off from a memory
Echoes closely down the hall like nothing
Thoughts ajar in a big silence
Like a door I must not go through
Unfulfilled thoughts
Left to beat in somebody else’s wells
The moments dragged into nowhere
Through a glass pane pacified in memory
A shivering hope will unveil the veil
Open the eyes
My shadow across the sky
Who knows how many times
Will beg for everything
That doesn’t want to give in
Like a wave drowned in the sea of waiting
Tearful song it will cry
In the foam out of the foam
My newly born dawn
Moj
Od sjeć anja otkinut trač ak trajanja
Što hodnicima blizu odzvanja ko ništa
U velikom ć utanju misli otškrinute
Ko vrata kroz koja ne smijem da prođ em
Ostać e nedomišljene da nekom drugom
Bunarima kucaju
Trenuci odvuč eni u nepovrat
Kroz okna od stakla umirena sjeć anjem
Nada što se batrga
Skinuć e velove otvoriti oč i
Moja sjena preko neba
Po ko zna koji put
Iskać e što se neć e dati
Morem išč ekivanja udavljeni talas
Proplakać e pjesmu
U pjeni iz pjene rođ ena
Moja nova zora
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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A Poem Written By A Confessed Bipolar (her Name To Be Revealed Upon Her Permission)
I write because I can
I write because there are so many things to be written.
I write because I can make a painting without a brush and paints in my hand.
I write because I can capture the moment without having a camera.
I write because letters and words are the only recipe I know how to cook.
I write because I want to read what I’ve written.
I write because I’m used to speak in silence.
I write because I have a story to tell.
I write because I want to strip off my flesh and live as a pure being.
I write because I can record my “voice” without having a recorder.
I write because it’s like a cup of coffee, it keeps me awake
I write because I want to live even when I do not exist.
I write because this is my throwing stones when I’m frustrated.
6/11/09 at 4: 42 PM
I write because I can flaunt my being when I don’t have clothes to show off.
I write because this is like making an encyclopedia to a coloring book.
I write because it’s more effective than my lithium medication.
I write because I’m tired of carrying these baggages on the road.
I write because I’m tired of talking too much.
I write because it’s a healthier diversion than smoking.
I write because it’s more therapeutic than analyzing my problem.
I write because I want to paint a thousand pictures with words.
I write because I can put colors to the letters and make a rainbow of words.
I write because it’s the key combinations to my hidden vaults.
I write because my ball pen is my best friend in the darkest nights.
I write because it surprises me with what I am capable of thinking&doing. 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because I like that ideas are popping like pop corns.
I write because I can wander in the adventures of my own world.
I write because I have to cleanse my collection of memories of an old home.
I write because like a mirror you need to do a lot of reflections.
I write because I want to fight the battle of life.
I write because I wanted my little voice to be heard.
I write because I want to run from the insanities of the world.
I write because pictures don’t talk.
I write because it helps me connect the dots when I look back in my life.
I write because it brings me back to my crib of silence.
I write because it makes a buzz to other bees in my beehive.
I write because unlike my bike my destination is limitless.
I write because I want to become an inspiration without extinction 6/11/09 at 4: 43 PM
I write because like strumming of the guitar, it vibrates in my soul.
I write because I love to write.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Painfully naked/Bolno razgolicena
Painfully naked
The wings of a dove
It took silence to understand as
Wordless it stood
Deeply meditating
Care caressing the air
Peace seeking paloma
Drawn in careful shades
Black grey white
Still sustaining
The whole flight
Frozen caught in a move
Bolno razgolić ena
Krila golubice
Trebalo je tišine da bi se shvatila
Jer
Bez riječ i je stajala
Duboko zamišljena
Brigom milujuć i vazdug
Paloma što traži mir
Iscrtana pažljivim sjenama
Crno sivo bijelo
Mirna hraneć i
Cjelokupan let
Smrznuta uhvać ena u pokretu
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Barbara girl you are a beast/Varvara djevojko ti si zvijer
Down from your fangs words drip on the claws
You’ve said sparkling edges
The jaws of the night have heard
You’ve said
Tearing apart
Melting down
Diving flights
Parting
Halving
Brokenness
Each word you will bring back to the cut off breath
Each word you will bring back to the halved dawn
Chronically undernourished
Varvara djevojko ti si zvijer
Riječ i ti sa zuba kaplju na kandže
Rekla si oštrice bjelasave
Što ih je č ula razjapljena noć
Rekla si
kidanja
otapanja
obrušavanja
rasta vljenost
raspoluć enost
slomljenost
Svaku ć eš vratiti na presječ en dah
Svaku ć eš vratiti na prerezano svitanje
Hronicno neuhranjenu
©Miroslava Odalović
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Write Me
Aerosmith
Write Me
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
I said, the ways of the night are evil with eyes that love the day,
but I'll never never never never never get so far away.
I said write me, write me, write me.
I said write me, write me, write me.
Well there's nothin' I can see that'd ever make
me want to be without her she's good, she's good to me.
Said there's no way to explain the kind of feeling
that you get out in the rain she's good, she's good to me.
See this emptiness inside it makes me scream
it make me crawl out of my high, she's good, she's good to me.
I love her.
Write me a letter, write me a letter, write it today, I'm goin' away.
Well I've been away forever, suicide's crossin' my mind,
But I'll never never never never never get so far behind.
Well I've been so many places hidin' from the wind and the rain,
But you could write me a letter for to save me from a goin' insane.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write.
I said write me, write, write, write me.
Write me, write, write, write me.
Don't write me baby.
song performed by Aerosmith
Added by Lucian Velea
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White Light, White Heat
(as heard on the ziggy farwell concert lp.)
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my brain
White light - white light gonna make me feel so insane
White heat - white heat shapin them down to my toes
White light - white lights got it now, goodness knows
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my mind
White light - white lights surely gonna make me blind
White heat - white heat shaping way down to my toes
White light - white light could kill me now, goodness knows
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white heat
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my brain
White light - white light gonna make me feel so insane
White heat - white heat shapin them down to my toes
White light - white lights got it now, goodness knows
White light - white light gonna drive me out of my mind
White light - white lights surely gonna make me blind
White heat - white heat shaping way down to my toes
White light - white light could kill me now, goodness knows
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white light
Oh, oh, white heat
Oh, oh, white heat
White lights a-flashing
White light
Still feels right
Whats that sound, whats that sound
Dont turn on, be dead or alive
No feeling
Here she comes
Oww, yeah
(oh, oh, oh, oh) here she comes
(oh, oh, oh, oh)
(oh, oh, oh, oh)
(ah, ah, ah, ah)
song performed by David Bowie
Added by Lucian Velea
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Geometry of peace/Geometrija spokoja
Lost in the depths of our silence
There’s a single moment of peace
For which it is a gift to live
It’s turned into point at which
Beauty spelled universe laughs
It’s turned into a point at which
The spirit settles down
The one that governs the waters
Governs the soil and heavens
It’s turned into a monada
At one with the light
Uniquely addressed by love
A particle of life
It craves the lines of space
With which the universe draws
The features hinted at
And an inexpressibility unspotted by an eye
Framework canons harmony depicted
The freedom of mercy and want are faced
It craves the body chiseled in wisdom
Of an eye in love with its sight
The lips in love with their words
An ear in love with its song
The hand awestruck by touch
The feet awestruck by paths
It craves the body chiseled in the rhythm
The lungs breathing heartbeat
The blood streaming ebbs in each drop
And the cords of a universal voicing
Of the first ‘Here I am’ tenderly
Endlessly addressed with ‘Thou,
A perfectly painted icon of life eternal
Return into Me, into the Word.’
Geometrija spokoja
Izgubljen u našim dubinama ć utnje
Raduje se tren tihog spokoja
Za koji je blagodatno živjeti
On postaje tač ka u kojoj smije se
Ljepotom ozarena vasiona
On postaje tač ka u kojoj smiruje se
Duh što nad vodama kopnom nebesima vlada
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Sideroad/Krajputasica
Darkness winged in forebodings paths
A lock of hair medallion hidden
Like the mole of the beginning
You were born for
You were lived away endlessly
In hidden pain you drummed
A star paved Sideroad made by raindrops
With raindrops into streams flown away away
Swelling in the duration strength
A little necklace of death
Around your neck
The circles of time you spinned
A lock of hair medallion hidden
Like the mole of the beginning
You were born for
In dusty steps you crafted noise
A rusty gates steal made
Opened despite the fear
The eyes always staring behind
Behind and behind
Unnoticed by endless mirrors
Misty clouds you lifted
Within a never ripe enough eyes
For the revelation
Tied within the revealed
In an invisible veil chain
What you’ve been lived away for
Endlessly
Self facing
In hidden pain you drummed
A lightful road made in darkness
Labyrinth of paths for whom the reward
For what, which efforts
Spasmodically embracing you held
Spasmodically embraced and nailed
The hope drunk from its own yearning
A star made Sideroad
In raindrops held
The rain filled with the mind
Long time forgotten by the window pane
Glass smashed
The strength of entrance under the eaves
The trace of a swelling pourdown
A roaring downflight waterfall
In raindrops into streams flown away away
Pour down pour down pour down
Fill in the emptiness of the heart
The hands unembraced hanged around
Darkness winged forebodings paths
A necklace of death around your neck
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Pythia the Stunt/Pitija kaskaderka
she liked paranormal activities
and saw symbolic connections between
apparently unconnected things
thus a pebble accidentally kicked
by her middle class boots
got endless measures in cosmic dimensions
of issues de-accidentalized
she liked mysteries
she heard the deaths whispered
into her ears only
of close relatives and distant people
she saw
colours dropped into her dreams only
of sleepy impressionists
and silent expressionists
post mortem hanging in reproductions
oh one of so many one of so many
in her pastoral home
she suffered from modesty pretend
and swam her butterfly style
in the swimming pool of her ego
perfectly aware of the fact
that not even those who serve God
far more diligently that she did
were not addressed by an angel voice
(but how could she have been guilty of that)
as the voice called her and only her
and only those similar to her
ready to applaud the great gift
only if their own was recognized
thinking she was a genius if she understood a genius
still I think she knew a lot
she knew so to say everything
especially since the day when
due to the pebble-deep voice-great gift
she became a real psychic …and got mad
______________________________________
pitija kaskaderka
je voljela paranormalne aktivnosti
i vidjela simbolič ne veze izmeđ u
naizgled nepovezanih stvari
tako kamenč ić sluč ajno šutnit
njenim srednjeklasnim č izmama
dobijaše nesagledive razmjere u kosmič kim dimenzijama
[...] Read more
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Paper Thin
Rich and wealthy canvas
Clustered up in jewels
Finding all your heavyweights
Are featherweights and fools
Broken all your promises
Broken all your paper plates
Clustered in gold
Crusted in gold
Heavy and hollow
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Heavy and humble
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
In origami cities
In nations build on sand
Love got bend right outta shape
Things got outta hand
Polystyrene skylines
Papier mch smiles
Rusted and bruised
Tarnished and frail
Heavy and hollow
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Heavy and humble
Look at the shape were in
Find us here
Paper thin
Stars scrape the moon
And the moon scrapes the sky
We stand beneath
Wondering why
Stars scrape the moon
And the moon scrapes the sky
We stand beneath
Wondering, wondering why
Paper buys the men
The men that make the bomb
The bomb that makes this world
Paper thin!
Money markets crumble
Gentle as a drum
But if you see me stumble, im
Paper thin!
Life is but a fragile thing
So delicate and pure
[...] Read more
song performed by Abc
Added by Lucian Velea
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The House Of Dust: Complete
I.
The sun goes down in a cold pale flare of light.
The trees grow dark: the shadows lean to the east:
And lights wink out through the windows, one by one.
A clamor of frosty sirens mourns at the night.
Pale slate-grey clouds whirl up from the sunken sun.
And the wandering one, the inquisitive dreamer of dreams,
The eternal asker of answers, stands in the street,
And lifts his palms for the first cold ghost of rain.
The purple lights leap down the hill before him.
The gorgeous night has begun again.
'I will ask them all, I will ask them all their dreams,
I will hold my light above them and seek their faces.
I will hear them whisper, invisible in their veins . . .'
The eternal asker of answers becomes as the darkness,
Or as a wind blown over a myriad forest,
Or as the numberless voices of long-drawn rains.
We hear him and take him among us, like a wind of music,
Like the ghost of a music we have somewhere heard;
We crowd through the streets in a dazzle of pallid lamplight,
We pour in a sinister wave, ascend a stair,
With laughter and cry, and word upon murmured word;
We flow, we descend, we turn . . . and the eternal dreamer
Moves among us like light, like evening air . . .
Good-night! Good-night! Good-night! We go our ways,
The rain runs over the pavement before our feet,
The cold rain falls, the rain sings.
We walk, we run, we ride. We turn our faces
To what the eternal evening brings.
Our hands are hot and raw with the stones we have laid,
We have built a tower of stone high into the sky,
We have built a city of towers.
Our hands are light, they are singing with emptiness.
Our souls are light; they have shaken a burden of hours . . .
What did we build it for? Was it all a dream? . . .
Ghostly above us in lamplight the towers gleam . . .
And after a while they will fall to dust and rain;
Or else we will tear them down with impatient hands;
And hew rock out of the earth, and build them again.
II.
[...] Read more
poem by Conrad Potter Aiken
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Silent refugees
What are we left with
When years and health are gone
When tents fall down under the roofs
When the shelters no longer shelter
When winters close down frozen and fireless
When summers burn crying for some ice
When springs forget to grow
And autumns die within a leaf
Who are we left with
When all the beloved are gone
When the helpful can no longer help
When there are no more roads to run
When the vacuum of the universe
Closes beyond our heads
Silent refugees from the earth
Silent refugees from the sky
In Who we shall die
Tihe izbjeglice
Sa č ime smo ostavljeni
Kad prođ u godine i uruč i se zdravlje
Kada se šatori pod krovovima ruše
Kad više nema skloništa
Kada se zime bez vatre smrznu
Kad ljeta prže i vape za ledom
Kad proljeć a zaborave da rastu
Kad jeseni umru u jednom listu
Sa kim smo ostavljeni
Kad voljenih više nema
Kad i oni od pomoć i pomoć i ne mogu
Kad više nema puta kojim bismo jurili
Kad se praznina svemira
Zatvori iznad glave
Tihe izbjeglice sa Zemlje
Tihe izbjeglice iz neba
U Kome mi ć emo umrijeti
poem by Miroslava Odalovic
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Paper And Pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Can’t think of anything to say today
Can’t think of anything to do
Can’t think of anything to play today
Minds gone blank
Leaving me here, just sitting here
Listening to my hair grow
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
And I look towards you
For an inspiration or a word or two
I try but I find
Every road only leads me back to these lines
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
I try but don't get very far
Paper and pen
Piano, guitar
Paper and pen
Trying to write a song again
Paper and pen
Paper and pen
Copyright Colin Coplin 1985 / 2010
poem by Colin Coplin
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The Ew-Bughts Marion. A Scottish Song.
Will ze gae to the ew-bughts, Marion,
And wear in the sheip wi' mee?
The sun shines sweit, my Marion,
But nae half sae sweit as thee.
O Marion's a bonnie lass,
And the blyth blinks in her ee;
And fain wad I marrie Marion,
Gin Marion wad marrie mee.
Theire's gowd in zour garters, Marion;
And siller on zour white haussbane;
Fou faine wad I kisse my Marion
At eene quhan I cum hame.
Theire's braw lads in Earnslaw, Marion,
Quha gape and glowr wi' their ee
At kirk, quhan they see my Marion;
Bot nane of them lues like mee.
Ive nine milk-ews, my Marion,
A cow and a brawney quay;
Ise gie tham au to my Marion,
Just on her bridal day.
And zees get a grein sey apron,
And waistcote o' London broun,
And wow bot ze will be vaporing
Quhanier ze gang to the toun.
Ime yong and stout, my Marion,
None dance lik mee on the greine;
And gin ze forsak me, Marion,
Ise een gae draw up wi' Jeane.
Sae put on zour pearlins, Marion,
And kirtle oth' cramasie,
And sune as my chin has nae haire on,
I sall cum west and see zee.
poem by Anonymous Olde English
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