Tuesday, 24 June 2014

Cannae Thole Ye!

Cannae Thole Ye!

Hello aul freens. Hoo ir ye daein? This week A'd laik tae taak tae ye aboot yin o ma favourite Ulster-Scots wurds, thole. Tae aa thon wha hadnae tha benefit o bein brocht up wae tha hamely tongue, thole means tae endure oor suffer bit laik aa guid Ulster-Scots wurds it can bae employt in wheen o different wyes.
Gin thurs a creeter ye cannae stan, weel ye cud tell him that ye cannae thole him, tha mair it micht earn ye a clash roon tha heid. Whuch leads me oan tae tha nixt use o thole, haein tae suffer a bit o a hurt. Ay, gin ye hae an injury o sim sort ye micht bae toul tae thole it tae its better.

Oor ye micht cum acroass a carnaptious aul bessom thats sae crabbit, shae cud hardly thole hersel. An then thurs tha cretter whas that jealous he cudnae thole tha thocht o anither bodie haein mair nor him. Ay, tholes a richt handy wurd tae ken. Bit afore ye mak up yer mine ye cannae thole oany mair o ma bletherin All stap an lee yes wae a poem scrived by tha Coonty Doon writer an poet George Francis Savage Armstrong caad, A Cannae Thole Ye!

Ye may be clivver, may hae won
A wheen o' honour 'nayth the sun
But, whatsaee'er ye've earn'd or done,
A cannae thole ye!

Ye may be genial noo and then
Wi' helpless waens an' humble men;
But, though ye'd gilt auld Poortith's den,
A cannae thole ye!

Ye may be guid; ye may be great;
Ye may be born tae rule the State;
But, though ye rowl'd the wheels o' Fate,
A cannae thole ye!

Ye may hae drawn yer watery bluid
Frae Noe's sel' that sail'd the Flood;
But, though in Noe's breeks ye stud,
A cannae thole ye!

Ye may be lord o' mony a rood;
Yer smile may mak' a monarch prood;
But, though the De'il afore ye boo'd,
A cannae thole ye!

It's nae that ye hae din me wrang;
It's nae A feel a jealous pang;
It's jist that, be ye short or lang,

A cannae thole ye!

Monday, 17 March 2014

Oor Ain Saint

17.03.14 Templepatrick

(taken from this weeks 'Fae tha pen o' an Aul Han)
Greetins aul freens A hape yer aa weel. This week folk fae aa airts an pairts wull bae dressin up laik leprehauns, paintin shamroakes oan thur bakes an drinkin green concoctions that wud mak ye seek jist tae luk at thum. The’ hae sim daft notion that thur antics ir simhoo connected tae Saint Petherick. Hooaniver tha truth is nane o’ thon things haes ocht ava tae dae wae tha missionary wha cum tae bring Christianity tae Airlan.
Aye, ye can bae sur tha streets o’ monies a toon an city wull bae crooded wae folk wavin flags an singin sangs. Bit a wunner wull thur bae onie yin stannin oan tha wee shore atween Millisle and Donaghadee in tha toonlan o’ Templepatrick (Church of Patrick). A wud bae mair nor surprised gin onie yin kens that this wee streetch o’ lan is whur Petherick lanit, havin sail’t acroass tha echteen mile o’ watter fae Portpatrick in Scotland.
‘A jalouse yer wrang Aul Han,’ A hear ye’s say. ‘Sur it’s no even mentioned by tha Tourist folk.’ Weel ye dinnae hae tae tak ma wurd fur it, in years gan by ye cud o’ fun mention o’ tha fact in monies an epistle. Tak fur example oor aul freen W.G. Lyttle’s “The Bangor Season” published in 1888. Aye an gin thon’s no guid enech fur ye, ye can fin it mentioned in “Tha Montgomery Manuscripts” (fae tha earlie saxteen hunners) whur it tells o’ hoo tha O’Neils wur fit tae show tha Montgomeries tha very spot whur Patrick cum ashore. A fact that nae doot haed great bearin oan Patrick Montgomery’s decision tae settle in Templepatrick an big a grand hoose, whas coat o’ arms can still be seen tae this day.
Bit A jalouse it disnae sit weel wae sim folk that Petherick aamaist certainly cum fae Scotland oor that he lanit in whut was tae becum tha first hame o’ tha Scots in Ulster. A wunner, daes thon mak him Ulster-Scots?

Onie road, gin ye happen by thon wee negleckit spot ootside Donaghadee. Ye cud dae wurse thon tae perk yer motor an tak a wee jaunt doon tae tha shore whur Petherick first brocht tha gospel tae Airlan.

Sunday, 2 June 2013

Introduction to the New Testament in Braid Scots - 1901

"The New Testament in Braid Scots"

Preface: "Thar are mony folks, wha hae spoken English a' their grown-up days, wha like to gang back to the tongue o' their bairnhood, i' the mirk and shadows o' auld age. Thar are ithers wha seem tae tak better to the Word when it comes to them wi' a wee o' the Scottish birr. And thar are a hantle o' folk and I meet them a'gate--wha dinna speak Scots theirsels, but are keen to hear it, and like to read it. "And thar is anither consideration--the Scots tongue is no gettin extendit, and some folk think it may be tint a'thegither or 'or lang. And God's Word is for a'men; and ony lawfu' means ane can use to get folk to read it, and tak tent til't, is richt and proper. For a' thae reasons and ithers I coud bring forrit, I hae putten the New Testatment intil Braid Scots. Lat nae man think it is a vulgar tongue--a mere gibberish to be dune wi' as sune as ane is bye the schule-time. It is an ancient and honourable tongue; wi' rutes deep i' the yird; aulder than muckle o' the English. It cam doon till us throwe oor Gothic and Pictish forebears; it was heard on the battle-field wi' Bruce; it waftit the triumphant prayers and sangs o' the Martyrs intil Heeven; it dirl't on the tongue o' John Knox, dencouncin wrang; it sweeten't a' the heevenlie letters o' Samuel Rutherford; and aneath the theek o'mony a muirland cottage it e'en noo carries thanks to Heeven, and brings the blessins doon!........." "And I haena putten pen to paper unbidden. A wheen screeds o' the Word dune intil Scots I had at times putten afore the public een; and folk wad write me, "Hae ye ony mair o't? Is the hail Testament in Scots to be gotten?" till I begude to think that aiblins Providence had gien me the Scots blude and the Scots tongue, wi' the American edication, for the vera reason that--haein baith lang'ages--I soud recommend the Word in Scots; and juist Scots eneuch not to be unfathomable to the ordinar English reader." "Whiles thar has been a chance o'making the meanin planer; whiles a Scots phrase o' unco tenderness or wondrous pith coud come in. And at a' times, ahint the pen that was movin, was a puir but leal Scots heart, fu' o' prayer that this sma' effort micht be acceptit o' the dear Maister--and, survivin a' the misca'in o' the pernickity and the fashionable--micht bring the memoryh o' a worthy tongue, and the better knowledge o' a Blessed Saviour, to this ane and that ane, as they micht chance to read it."

William Wye Smith (The Rev.) St. Catherines Canada

Sunday, 26 May 2013

23rd Psalm in Scots

23rd. Psalm in Scots

The Lord is my Shepherd in nocht am I wantin'
In the haugh's green girse does He mak me lie doon
While mony puir straiglers are bleatin' and pantin'
By saft-flowin' burnies He leads me at noon.

When aince I had strayed far awa in the bracken,
And daidled till gloamin' cam ower a' the hills,
Nae dribble o' water my sair drooth to slacken,
And dark grow'd the nicht wi' its haars and its chills.

Awa frae the fauld, strayin' fit-sair and weary,
I thocht I had naethin' tae dae but tae dee.
He socht me and fand me in mountain hechts dreary,
He gangs by fell paths which He kens best for me.

And noo, for His name's sake, I'm dune wi' a' fearin'
Though cloods may aft gaither and soughin' win's blaw.
"Hoo this?" or "Hoo that?" -- oh, prevent me frae spearin'
His will is aye best, and I daurna say "Na".

The valley o' death winna fleg me to thread it,
Through awfu' the darkness, I weel can foresee.
Wi' His rod and His staff He wull help me to tread it,
Then wull its shadows, sae gruesome, a' flee.

Forfochen in presence o' foes that surround me,
My Shepherd a table wi' denties has spread.
The Thyme and the Myrtle blaw fragrant aroond me,
He brims a fu' cup and poors oil on my head.

Surely guidness an' mercy, despite a' my roamin'
Wull gang wi' me doon tae the brink o' the river.
Ayont it nae mair o' the eerie an' gloamin'
I wull bide in the Hame o' my Faither for ever.

Tuesday, 9 April 2013

Aul sayins fae tha hamested

My mother, to me: on the occasion of me reclining for a few moments on her chair,

"Luk at ye lyin bak thur like a churn a dryin."

Monday, 18 March 2013

Dandlin Sangs

Ally Bally (Coulter's Candy)

Ally bally, ally bally bee,
Sittin' on yer mammy's knee,
Greetin' for a wee bawbee, (crying) (a halfpenny)
Tae buy mair Coulter's candy. (to) (more)

My, yir legs are affa thin, (awfully)
A couple o' banes covered ower wi' skin, (bones) (over)
Noo yir gettin' a wee double chin, (now)
Wi' sookin' Coulter's Candy. (sucking)

Ally bally, ally bally bee,
When you grow up you'll go to sea,
Makin' pennies for your daddy and me,
Tae buy mair Coulter's Candy.

Mammy gie's ma thrifty doon, (give) (money box) (down)
Here's auld Coulter comin' roon', (old) (around)
Wi' a basket on his croon, (with) (crown/head)
Selling Coulter's Candy.

Coulter he's a affa funny man, (very)
He mak's his candy in a pan, (makes)
Awa an greet to yer ma, (away) (cry) (your)
Tae buy some Coulters candy. (to)

Little Annie's greetin' tae,
Sae whit can puir wee Mammy dae, (so) (what) (poor) (do)
But gie them a penny atween them twae, (between) (two)
Tae buy mair Coulter's Candy.

My Aunt Jane

My Aunt Jane she tuk me in
An gien me tay oot o her wee tin
Half a bap wae sugar on tha tap
An three black balls fae her wee shap

My Aunt Jane sez drink yer tay
An sing oot til yer dyin' day
An ye wunner why I an sae prood
An ye wunner why I sing sae lood

For my Aunt Jane she tuk me in
An gien me tay oot o her wee tin
Half a bap wae sugar on tha tap
An three black balls fae her wee shap.

Dance Tae Yer Daddie

Dance tae yer daddie, My bonnie laddie, 
Dance tae yer daddie, My bonnie lamb
You will hear a fiddle, A story an a riddle
You wull hear a fiddle, When the boat cums hame
Dance tae yer daddie, My bonnie laddie, 
Dance tae yer daddie, my bonnie lamb 
Ye’ll soon hear a sang, Aa can sing alang 
Ye’ll soon hear a sang When the boat cums hame
Dance tae yer daddie, My bonnie laddie, 
Dance tae yer daddie, my bonnie lamb 
An ye’ll get a fishie, In a wee dishie 
An ye’ll get a fishie, When the boat cums hame

Tuesday, 5 February 2013

Cuddle Doon Link

In line with this Saturdays Column I'm posting a link to the oul Scots favourite Cuddle Doon by Alexander Anderson