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Reply to: Friday Poetry Corner - The Big Effen Bee
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Previously on "Friday Poetry Corner - The Big Effen Bee"
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Aye I did like the ...what was it called again ..erm oh yes ... The Memoirs Of A Scotsman With Alzheimers.
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The Memoirs Of A Scotsman With Alzheimers.
© John McCormick, Bass Lake, Ontario, Canada 1996
I sairly miss the pibroch,
As it gaily builds its nest.
The haggis smells so sweetly,
As I tuck it in my vest.
The tumshy's in my fondest dreams,
As it sails up the Clyde,
And I oft-times wish, I could have a dish,
Of bonny Kate McBride.
The porridge that my mither used,
To paint the kitchen door,
The touch of cockie leekie
As it runs around the floor.
And if my memory serves me well
It was only yesterday,
When the peever beds, stuck out their heads
In the merry month of May.
To hear the cry, of a wee mince pie,
Wi' a tattie on its knee.
The whistlin' kilt that ma faither built,
Is a thing I long to see.
I dearly loved the oxters,
We used to catch at Leith,
I dinnae see them half sae weel,
Since they took awa' ma teeth.
I sometimes wish that I could see
A kipper on the wing.
A wulk, or a clootie dumplin,
I'd love to hear them sing.
But maist of aw', I miss the coos,
Wi' the bonny coloured feather,
The thistles and the butts and bens,
As they run aboot the heather.
I dinnae ken what else I miss,
Or what I'd like tae see,
But if ye aw' have read this far,
Ye're twice as daft as me.
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Not a brilliant English cuz its a translation ....
They taught me to regret the past and its wounds.
Whatever I saw before my eyes saw you was a wasted life.
How could they consider that part of my life?
With your light, the dawn of my life started
How much of my life before you was lost
It is a wasted past, my love.
My heart never saw happiness before you
My heart never saw anything in life other than the taste of pain and suffering.
I started only now to love my life
And started to worry that my life would run away from me.
Every happiness I was longing for before you
My dreams they found it in the light of your eyes.
Oh my heart’s life .. You are more precious than my life
Why I didn't meet your love a long time ago?
Whatever I saw before my eyes saw you was a wasted life.
How could they consider that part of my life?
You are my life that starts its dawn with your light.
The beautiful nights and the yearning and the great love
From a long time ago the heart is holding for you.
Taste the love with me bit by bit from the kindness of my heart that is longing for the kindness of your heart.
Bring your eyes close so that my eyes can get lost in the life of your eyes.
Bring your hands so that my hands will rest in the touch of your hands.
My love, come, and enough.
What we missed is not little, oh love of my soul.
Whatever I saw before my eyes saw you was a wasted life.
How could they consider that part of my life?
You are my life that starts its dawn with your light.
You are more precious than my days.
You are more beautiful than my dreams,
Take me to your sweetness--
Take me away from the universe
Far away, far away.
I and you far away, far away. Alone.
With love, our days will awaken
We spend the nights longing for each other
I reconciled with days because of you
I forgave the time because of you
With you I forgot my pains
And I forgot with you my misery.
Your eyes took me back to my days that are gone
They taught me to regret the past and its wounds.
Whatever I saw before my eyes saw you was a wasted life.
How could they consider that part of my life?
You are my life that starts its dawn with your light.
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Friday Poetry Corner - The Big Effen Bee
The Big Effen Bee by Matt McGinn
He kept bees in the old town of Effen
An Effen beekeeper was he
And one day this Effen beekeeper
Was stung by a big Effen bee
Now this big Effen beekeeper's wee Effen wife
For the big Effen polis she ran
For there's nobody can sort out a big Effen bee
Like a big Effen polisman can
The big Effen polisman, he did his nut
And he ran down the main Effen street
In his hand was a big Effen baton
He had big Effen boots on his feet
The polis got hold of this big Effen bee
And he twisted the Effen bee's wings
But this big Effen bee got his own back
For this big Effen bee had two stings
Now they're both in the Effen museum
Where the Effen folk often come see
The remains of the big Effen polis
Stung to death by the big Effen bee
That's the end of that wee Effen story
'Tis an innocent wee Effen tale
But if you ever tell it in Effen
You'll end up in the old Effen jailLast edited by AlfredJPruffock; 29 December 2006, 10:39.Tags: None
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