Beinn Eighe, ye black, ootrageous beastie,
aw thrustin' up sae dour an' feisty.
No snow-knit knap will mak ye bonny;
yer shaley shanks look ugly on ye.
Maybe a dram or two will bolden,
then up yer skirts I'll be beholdin'.
Aye, try te hide yer feckless face,
but clouds ne'er tarry in wan place;
so dinnae think ye'll hide forever,
I'll seek ye oot in onny weather.
Just wan wee dram an I'll be startin',
by nightime ye'll be scaled an smartin'.
An' aw that ermine roond yer shou'der
nae warmer maks ye, aye but colder.
Yer icy heart has my name on it,
ye bloodless, stone-faced, heap o' granite.
I'll hae this wan, and tak nae watter,
a guid big tot, then ah'll be at ya.
Dinnae look so high an pointy
peerin' doon on me sae hoity...
Damn ye te hell, ye taunt me cruelly,
ah swear...ah swear... I'll mount ye surely..
Ach, tip the bottle, dinnae leave none...
Ah'll toast the climb...here's te the next wan.
What time is this?...The moon's aw bobbin'...
Oh, ma scalp, ma skull's aw throbbin';
Shade ma eyes, ah think ma heed's loose,
yon peak sae bright, it's like a lighthoose...
Is that you, Beinn Eighe, ma Sorcha virgin,
sae beautiful, aw grand and urgin'?
Ah want ye so, but here's the sorrow...
ye'll hae te wait until the morrow...
tectak
Loch Coulin
2018
aw thrustin' up sae dour an' feisty.
No snow-knit knap will mak ye bonny;
yer shaley shanks look ugly on ye.
Maybe a dram or two will bolden,
then up yer skirts I'll be beholdin'.
Aye, try te hide yer feckless face,
but clouds ne'er tarry in wan place;
so dinnae think ye'll hide forever,
I'll seek ye oot in onny weather.
Just wan wee dram an I'll be startin',
by nightime ye'll be scaled an smartin'.
An' aw that ermine roond yer shou'der
nae warmer maks ye, aye but colder.
Yer icy heart has my name on it,
ye bloodless, stone-faced, heap o' granite.
I'll hae this wan, and tak nae watter,
a guid big tot, then ah'll be at ya.
Dinnae look so high an pointy
peerin' doon on me sae hoity...
Damn ye te hell, ye taunt me cruelly,
ah swear...ah swear... I'll mount ye surely..
Ach, tip the bottle, dinnae leave none...
Ah'll toast the climb...here's te the next wan.
What time is this?...The moon's aw bobbin'...
Oh, ma scalp, ma skull's aw throbbin';
Shade ma eyes, ah think ma heed's loose,
yon peak sae bright, it's like a lighthoose...
Is that you, Beinn Eighe, ma Sorcha virgin,
sae beautiful, aw grand and urgin'?
Ah want ye so, but here's the sorrow...
ye'll hae te wait until the morrow...
tectak
Loch Coulin
2018