Stories from Jack Jackson Mossgiel
by William Graham
Mossgiel, Mossgiel, - the very name,
Sauchs like the win, wi the whilly lou cry
O a muirland bird at the owercome ot .
But its no the aimless sang o the win,
Gravels the hert at the minden ot.
Its the sicht o a man on yon hilltap,
Hauns thick, back bent, heid to the blast,
Rivin the slairgy guts o the sile,
Sour wi the fug and the thinkin ot.
The thinkin ot, and the ruin ot,
The clinky yird and the plooin ot.
The stoun o the hert the only sang
The only hope, the lang day duin,
And a man by the ingle licht ,
I the hauntit howe-dumb deid o the nicht,
Darg weary, sel weary, aa his lane,
Deep in a lang green-mantled dream.
sauchs = sighs
minden = reminding
oorie = eerie
rivin = tearing up
slairgy = sticky/ slimy
sile = soil
fug = moss
clinty = stony
stoun = throb
duin = done
Spence = parlor
ingle = fire
howe-dumb-deid = middle of the night
darg (daurg) = days work
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