Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE AULD STAIRHEID, by JAMES NORVAL


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

THE AULD STAIRHEID, by                    
First Line: At hin hairst - when leaves are cast in humplocks on the blast
Last Line: And their beacon through life's blast was that auld stairheid.
Subject(s): Grandparents; Grandmothers; Grandfathers; Great Grandfathers; Great Grandmothers


AT hin hairst -- when leaves are cast in humplocks on the blast,
Which rushes doun the bleak glen wi' a mad bull's speed --
The bairns hurry in, seekin' shelter frae the win',
In a helter-skelter rin, to the auld stairheid;

Whaur grannie's sitting rocking, knitting gutcher's stocking,
The kittlin's gowfin' here and there, the clew and the threed;
The bairnies gie a skirl, as kitt gar's the ba' play birl --
Sends it spinning wi' a swirl owre the auld stairheid.

Auld grannie lift's her han's, and stamps her fit, and bans;
Paiks them ane and a' for a mischief-brewing breed;
Tells them a fleesum tale, that gars their wee hearties quail,
As the dead leaves breenge like hail 'gainst the auld stairheid.

May a' that's gude protect her; she's gied them a' a lecture,
Hoo wilfu' bairns were serv'd that ca'd guid men chuckle-heid,
Twa red wud beasties cam', and fell on them ram-stam;
Rave them spawl frae spawl; och, and left them bluidy deid.

Whae'er glories in mischief, or guffaws at grannie's grief,
Are aye seen by an e'e that has never steek'd nor jee'd;
And in his ain guid time, when you've tint your youthfu' prime,
He'll bring my words to min', when I'm moolin' 'mang the deid.

She gies them crumpy farls, to mend their fykes and quarrels,
And they nip and brak' to mirls a' their twal-hours breid;
And, aiblins, ere they stop they'll play at a wee shop --
Trowth, there's mony a huxter schul'd on an auld stairheid.

The purse-proud hae their braws, and the lordly hae their ha's;
While the miser, skinny loon, starves 'tween his gowd and greed;
But the memories o' oor youth wi' its sunwinks and its truth,
Shimmers like the flowery south, round the auld stairheid.

Awa' wi' your gewgaws, and your thieveless hums and haws --
On warm hearts they fa' like a blad o' frozen leed;
The auld leeve wi' the past, whaur Hope's pennant crown'd the mast,
And their beacon through life's blast was that auld stairheid.





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