The Girnoc Farms
Past Research
Location Map
Gordon Tombstones
Sources
'The Brolly Makers'
Gordons o' Girnoc
Naebody mynds Aultdrachty noo,
though lood it rattles still.
Aye, Aultdrachty's tummlin watter has seen it a.'
It's Glen Folk may a' lang be gan,
yet Aultdrachty, the gaird o'Capel Moonth
Lang sall tummel on.
Yet Aultdrachty's watter wis'nae awas clear,
fae it hods a muckle saicret.
Sae hearken, an hear the feech
o' the packman, sheepherd an the whusky smugglers.
An beyont the reevin win'
The toon-folk, michty-me,
brought forth their ceevil brolly -
Fit mare eesless cud there be!
Aye Aultdrachty's watter rauchles on,
an fit a michty rachitt,
the skwaals af a' the lost folk
are droont by drachty, sailent.
Yet the watter wis'nae awas clear,
fae it hods a muckle saicret.
Stapit foo' wi dram he wis,
oor Packman on't fairst erran.
Jist a halfling Packman mynd.
Aye, a mither's bairn a'richt.
For oor hapless loon had'nae heed Aultdrachty's rowt
on such a fearfu' nicht.
The snaa it came ower the Moonth, a bin-drift,
like nane afore.
Poor loon, asleep aside Aultdrachty,
His lum a reekin' still,
was berit.
Aye oor Packman berit still,
gaithered in by Aultdrachty.
Gad aye, the watter wis'nae awas clear.
The splooter a' Aultdrachty kens sae much mare
o' seenister shenanigans.
It's rummel beat ca's oot waisome:
after a' the glen it ken't has lang since ceased its roar.
Oor next young loon wis bit a laddie,
a neeboor fae the Girnoc.
Linvaig, wis the hame of McAndrew: anither mither's loon -
Lured by Aultdrachty's cackle.
Then risen fae a halla, a sleekit naisty beast,
moves seelenced by Aultdrachty,
it pounced apon McAndrew.
Fit oor loon was faist an slippy -
fae he clasped his dirk an' stabbed it aince.
Oonkent tae McAndrew the lupus beast was still aff braith,
Aultdrachty saa it' fearsome.
Aye the watter wis'naw awas clear.
Aultdrachty's rauchle had a' thirst that widnae slack,
aff that ye can be sure.
Half a' doozen smugglers naixt tae the slauchter,
theer bellies reed-het wi' watter distillate,
jeelous Aultdrachty cud'nae hae that!
Aye the watter wis nae awas clear.
An then Aultdrachty reeled its maist keerious,
the haipless, stupit toon-folk,
The Lynvaig umberella makkers:
fit an' earth tak them tae Aultdrachty, nane will ken,
nane but Aultdrachty.
Fit a spleeter o' weet,
A shooer like nane.
Eesless brollies, blan in-bye-oot,
Sae they huddled bye Aultdrachty.
The watter it fell oot fae the heeven fur days, an nichts,
an fullt the quaich o' Aultdrachty welt beyont the brim,
Ceevil folk, wi brollies, had nae chance.
Aye the watter wis'nae awas clear,
though lood it rattles still.
March 2004
