Poems of Rowena M Love - The Waverley oan a Brae

Magin' hearin the Waverley
In a snaw-fed waterfa'!
Hir pistons loodly pumpin -
Ah nivver expecktit that at a'.

The Waverley, oan a brae?
Ah nivver thocht tae fin hir here,
As hikers' boabble hats
Wave lik weans oan a pier.

Ah nivver thocht hir colours
Wid be sae easy fun
In black stane, reid faces
An snaw oan the grun.

She's a mindin o childhood -
Doon the watter fur the Fair;
Conjurin fish teas an pokey hats
An haein an affie tear.

Whit wey's she in ma heid
As Ah sprauchle up the hill?
Ah'm miles awa, an years awa,
Yet Ah'm thinkin oan her still.

Are the Ben folk castin glamours
That cairrie oan the win,
Some clever countra cantrip,
Sae Ah cannae help but grin?

Or mebbe it's jist the seil,
Risin faster than the tide,
That has me fair remembrin
Early days upoan the Clyde.