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Here
are some poems by the Buckieboys They are mainly by Couch who has a real talent
and has actually been published (MBA Journal). There are a few by Wee Johnny
which are pretty good too and a couple by Big Al which are not so good.
Skitzo (Couch) You say you cannot make it Catherine, for you are scared of meeting our wee Jimmy or baggers with a beard you've think you've heard some stories, from the Buckie Boys it's true well now listen to this story that I shall tell to you It fell upon a winter's day, Jack Frost sat in the trees he cut and sliced his snow and ice and threw them in the breeze fantastic shapes in daytime he created for delight to come alive as monsters in the darkness of the night Wearily they walked the last few yards, guided by a bothy light a candle in the window, had been placed there to invite but no-one greeted their arrival, nought but an overturned chair and a hollow echo answered their call of "anybody there?"
The grate was quickly filled with cheering flames and heat and the weary pair were happy to just sit and warm their feet Their aches and pains were soon forgotten, their toils were left behind and they thought this new found bothy was a very lucky find Too soon the fire said goodnight and quietly passed away the flaming embers of its life just memories at play as darkness settled on the pair, they thought it time for bed when a noise upon the doorstep filled both their hearts with dread Clump! , Clump! Clump! , Clump! Protesting on its hinges, the door creaked open to reveal Six foot of muscled bone that made the bearded baggers squeal "I have walked upon these feet, 30 miles you to meet" he laughed and threw his giant pack upon the floor "and in my younger days, before this caliper was brazed I'd walk coast to coast - A HUNDRED MILES OR MORE" "What time is it?" he asked, "how much of it has passed? "it pours between life's fingers just like sand! "until a year has ran, I'm as sane as any man" he said to a giant clock held in his hand. The baggers sensed their doom as silence fell into the room twas the kind that comes before a storm to bring They looked in his mad eyes when suddenly he cried! for THE GIANT CLOCK ALARM BEGAN TO RING!!!! "TIME IS UP! - TIME TO CUT!" - his crazed face broke into an evil grin In his eyes there shone a fire, in his heart a mad desire as he cut a bearded scalp from off each chin
You may guess at what the baggers felt, as he hung the scalped beards from his belt and hoovered up their food and gave a sneer Then shouldering his pack, he set off down the road and back to where he'd been for his last sane year
Burns
night comes with haggis, neeps and tatties once a year so
buckie boys will bagon - feckem - never fear! with
pack on back, we will not slack, we'll trudge through rain and sleet o'er
hill and dale along the trail - we'll tramp with happy feet Till
we arrive at doorstep of rare wee bothy shelter and
with coal and woodblocks, build a fire - a roast your balls off belter Wee
Johnny he will then address, great chief o' puddin race while
buckie boys with great delight, get smashed out their face.
In
a circle there they stood, a deaf and sightless evil brood and
passed messages of what they hadn't heard or seen without
a word they spoke, and told each other of the bloke who
had come in range and broke their networked beam. In
a flash they'd swung their gaze, and the deadly watcher rays poured
like judgement, from the Gods up in the skies and
they didn't hear the screams, as his mind burst at the seams or
see the blood, that poured out of his eyes. Now
its safe to leave your car, and to leave your door ajar with
a Watched Domain, you need not be alarmed you
can listen to the silence of their talking through the night and
sleep knowing that you've got the system 'ARMED'
Nothing
stirred, only a few wild creatures saw them as they passed and
never thought to wonder, where the MR2 was going - going very fast Moon
and stars shone down, with ghostly silver strands of light ahead
the road was clear, and they thundered through the night Big
Al slept and dreamed of eagles, wee Johnny slept and dreamed of stags but
The Bagger's sleep was troubled, he dreamed of mountains full of crags Couch
began to nod off, when the stars filled up the sky as
he drove along, he watched them, and slept with just one eye. Strapped
up on the roof, wee Jimmy gave himself a shake, for
the noise of wee Pat's snoring, from the boot, kept him awake he
yelled, 'any more of this, and we're going to come to blows that's
a Guinness Book of Records noise, comin' from his nose 'when
he gets a whiff of this' he thought, his nose will sing a different tune as
he blocked up both exhaust pipes, he said 'I'll choke him wi' the fumes' EEeeeNNNNEKkkkKKKK,
EEeeeNNNNEKkkkKKKK from
the boot there came a nasal ripping roar EEeee....ARGhhhh!,
wee Pat was strangled in mid-snore. 'PEACE
AT LAST' said Jimmy When
dawn broke at last, they were well upon their way high
up in the hills, before the break of day so
if you want empty hills and roads, you have to get up smart as
Johnny says 'Hey Boys - how's about an early start?'. Ode
to a couch They
call him Couch, but he's no slouch That
Ian Murray fella' He'll
walk out of view for a Special Brew To
show that he's no Yella' He
take's a ribbin' about
his belly and
how it wobbles like
a big plate of jelly But
He's a man for any weather O're
rock and stream Through
bog and heather He'll
soldier on without a moan And
sure as day precedes night He'll
try out that Thunder Box contraption Cause
he's in need of a shite.
You
will find him on the mountains, above three thousand feet For
The Bagger's earthly goal, is the Munros to complete He
ascends in all conditions, rain and sleet and snow Singing
'my name is Billy Bingo, I've got 1-3-6 to go'. His
legs they batter up and doon, they thunder in their sockets They
power him along the trail, two turbo-charged big rockets As
he flies from cairn to cairn, he's watched by some below Who
excited phone the papers, saying they've seen a UFO. He
clothes are from a scarecrow, a tramp or some wee tike If
you meet him on the trail, you'll think you've never seen the like In
his eyes there burns a fire, a mountain-loving passion While
the arse hings oot his trousers, he's no follower of fashion. You'll
know when you have met him, if you're stopped and asked in dread 'Hello
there mate , my name is Bill - IS THERE ANY CRAGS AHEAD?' He
makes friends with everybody, he's a very cheery soul But
he doesn't like Big Al, who makes him carry coal.
He
often comes a bothy'n To
Tarf Hotel and the likes But
always insists on walkin' While
we go in on bikes. Somewhere
to lay his heid Its
then he'll start his snorin' Enough
noise to wake the deid. He
lies there in his sleeping bag Feet
stickin' oot the bottom Takes
up a whole room to himself We
wish we hidnae brought'im And
when he's cookin' dinner, With
the food he's had to borrow He
boasts of all the hills he's done, And
the one's he'll do tomorrow But
as you say, he's a cheery soul and
often good for a song, Like
- There was a Scottish Soldier Or
something else to sing'along. The Bagger (part3) (Couch) He
rises ere the break of dawn, outside its still pitch black No
breakfast for The Bagger, he says it slows him in his tracks He
doesn't even pack a lunch, just Vaseline's his bunions Then
grabs a bag of biscuits and one of Barbara's onions Then
he's OFF upon the road, a smile upon his face Chug
Chug Chug in his Bag-mobile, he sets a cracking pace If
he leaves at 05:00 o-clock he'll be there by half past nine To
'HIT IT - HIT IT HARD!' and start his mountain climb. The Bagger (part4) (Big Al) The
bagger is a stange beast, walks with a shambling gait He
is very easy to spot on the hill, as he appears in such a state With
jacket hanging loose, work trousers on and a hat resembling noddy It
makes you wonder how a human can inhabit such a body His
greatest fear is meeting Big Al and being asked to carry coal This
goes against his tic instinct and cuts deep into his soul He
would prefer to let others do the work especially his poor brother Or
Wee Johnny or Auld Jimmy while he hides under cover. He
is at his worst it is said, when it is time to eat Not
a morsel he has brought, no bread or jam or meat Just
a great big onion in his pack, thats all folks it is true He
relies on the Buckie Boys to give him their beef stew
My
heart longs to be remote To
feel unattached to man To
see the mountain, feel the air, hear the burn To
be awake to a view Alien I
have been here for centuries, at this beach Out
of sight of man and beast, out of reach Surrounded
by creatures, many sorts Sightless
eyes watching me in my domain Moved
me from my slumber to the sand Smoke,
heat near my body, I was in fear My
time had come to leave this land Lifting
high above the sand, carried high My
weight was too much for him So
now I lie swathed in bracken, awaiting them The
Watchers cry soundless for me. ALIEN
RESURRECTION It
lay there in the bracken, staring up A
lost wind sighed above the branches of the trees Cold
earth beneath, it lay beside the lonely track Buckie
Boys had moved it, now it wanted to go back From
deep within it gathered all its elemental forces And
asked the domain's watchers, to lend to it their forces Out
along Loch Ericht, all its mental powers were bent Till
Big Al's mind was breached with the signal beam it sent "'REMOTE'
'REMOTE' 'REMOTE' It
is beyond my reach FREE
ME! - Big Al - FREE ME! Take me back to Creature Beach"
Trudge,
trudge, trudge Through
mud and sludge Gaitered
boots crush heather roots Big
Udlamain holds a grudge In
their face, to slow their pace Stung
rain and sleet and hail A
uphill path of misery Progress
like a snail They
grumbled and they muttered Each
step an ache, hearts near to break They
were completely guttered But
then at last, they reached the pass And
began their downhill strain A
grim and dreadful awful trek Can't
wait to go again.
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