Following yesterday’s St Andrew’s verses, here is how Sheila Templeton responded to the theme of “This is my own, my native land!”  to win first prize in the 2007 McCash Scots Poetry Competition. She was living in Troon, on the Ayrshire coast, at the time of writing, though she comes from the north-east of Scotland, and now lives in Glasgow. Hence the mix of images in this reflection on the Scottish character and landscapes.

                                MY LAND

Plays meltin slow airs oan the fiddle. Gars me greet.

Struts like naebody else. The kilt was invented for struttin.

And struts darkly wi white gloves and orange sashes.

~

Has lochs lying aboot Ayrshire like sma cups

o watter held in ribbed broon corduroy hills.

~

And licht sillered ower the Firth o Clyde

ice skimmings in simmer time, wrinkled

like a saucer o new jam pushed wi a finger

tae test for setting.

~

Leaves sic a sweetness oan my tongue

o dusk pink colour sookit dry each simmer.

~

And minds the sharp smell o blackened neepie lantern

chipped awa sae patiently, my faither sitting by the Tilly lamp.

~

Draws skeins o geese tae wild grey lochs,

arrowing oor Northern winter skies.

~

Has a squint smile, no brimming wi confidence,

tho teems wi heroes, sung and unsung.

~

Can niver say ‘I love you,’ but hugs me,

awkward and fierce. Gies me a bosie.

bosie=bosom hug in north-east Scots