Whun A' The Kye Had Names

Whut heppin‛t tae the countryside, since you an‛ me wus wains,
Whun folk had time tae tak‛ tae ye an‛ al‛ the kye had names,
The Clydesdales stud abane the men, as gentle as a lamb,
The oul‛ men proud o‛ whut they dane, they know‛d aboot the lan.

The wather it wus better then, och! Mebbe that‛s joost me,
An‛ burds noo naw as plentifu, they sung fae ivery tree,
Spring rowl‛t intae simmer an‛ it seem‛t tae g‛on for iver,
An‛ nae sich thing as silage seep polluted ony river.

Wee yella fleurs that hugg‛t the grun, an‛ grew wile up the rodden
Wur guid for soos that wur in pig an‛ min‛ ye I‛m naw coddin‛
I hae mine o‛ ginger mix‛t wae stuff an‛ doses geen tae coos,
I cannae min‛ whut it wus for but I think it wus the hoowse.

An‛ weeds that luk‛t lake churnstaffs, an‛ grew on heidrigs wile,
They cure‛t the warts ye got fae kye, on wummin man or chile,
Ye only got the warts of coorse whun milkin‛ wae yer‛e han,
It wus odd the wye that Flossie an‛ oul Daisy knowed thoor stan‛.

All coorse machines dae al‛ that noo, an‛ cans nae langer clink,
I lake‛t the blue rimm‛t buckets an‛ the strainers mair, I think,
Och! The worls in sich a hurry noo, its chane‛t since we wur wains,
Och! Al‛ the sime I lake‛t it whun al‛ the kye had names.

An‛ they say tabacca‛s bad for ye, och! I‛m sure they lakely know
But boys the pipe wus pairt o‛ them, them oul‛ boys lang ago,
Noo I‛m naw on for smokin‛ but tae mae min‛ a vision creeps,
O‛ Jamie sittin‛ on the dake in a cloud o‛ blue pipe reek.

A gentle dacent quate wee man, wae thrupp‛ny bits for wains,
A man wha knowed the fermin‛ trade, an‛ al‛ his kye had names,
He dinnae need a helter for his geldin‛ or his mere,
He set his han‛ on the oul‛ gate post an said as quate “c‛mere”,

He swung the gate an‛ danner‛t on at his leisure up the trak‛,
An, big Darkie he catch‛t up wae him an dunch‛t him on the bak,
Joost a dunt tae let him know, that him an hir wus comin‛
He had a wye wae bastes an‛ things, but ye niver hard him bummin‛.

Noo life slips by for all o‛ is, gye quick, I‛ll hae ye know,
But always theres a crocus kookin‛ through the snow,
What I mane bae that is simple for I am far fae smert,
The fermers noo al‛rip an‛ tear I think they loast the airt.

Ye shud be mair lake Jamie, an‛ love the lan‛ that‛s lent ye,
An‛ keep it richt for yer‛e ain wains the Lord in wisdom sent ye,
An think o‛ that wee crocus, an she‛ll mine ye o‛ the Spring,
An life anew anither time, an‛ life‛s a precious thing.

Noo if ye‛d ax me whut I‛d lake, if ye only had the power,
Cud I go bak an‛ tak‛ tae Jamie, if only for an hour,
For I dinnae lissen first time roon, well naw as weel‛s I shud,
But noo I‛m ouler, wiser an‛ as sure as God I wud.

For I hae waste‛t mony years on things that daenae metter,
There is nae price I wudnae pye for a chance tae dae it better,
But Jamie dee‛t lang years ago, an‛ if richt is richt I mane,
He‛s fermin‛ up in Heaven whur al‛ his kye has names.

© Charles Gillen, 2005
Reproduced with permission from Charlie Gillen,   Tha Wizard's Quill , (Vol. 5,Ulster-Scots “Living Writers” Series, Ullans Press, 2005).