LL-L "Literature" 2004.10.17 (07) [E/LS/S]

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From: Ruth & Mark Dreyer <mrdreyer at lantic.net>
Subject: LL-L "Etymology" 2004.10.17 (04) [E/LS/S]

Dear Grietjie,

Subject: LL-L "Etymology" 2004.10.16 (06) [E]

Thanks for catching us "The Portree Kid" with his teuchter.

Mind you, I prefer "Ghostriders in the Sky". I am keen on mythology, & it
makes a grue run up my back.

No doubt the Portree Kid is chockful of wit that as a non-local, I miss, so
I won't disparage it on that account.

So van die os op die esel, no doubt you will find that 'camping', is now
international, defined as the place that you do it, not what you're doing:
Look at the guide books. Do we blame it on Berlitz?

Yrs,
Mark

----------

From: Sandy Fleming <sandy at scotstext.org>
Subject: "Etymology" [E]

> From: Grietje MENGER <grietje at menger.fsnet.co.uk>
> Subject: LL-L "Etymology" 2004.10.16 (06) [E]
>
> Now, that's funny, I haven't lived long enough in Scotland yet to have
> come
> across the word "teuchter" (it's sort of equivalent to Am Eng "hick",
> wouldn't you say?), but last night I was in the Lade Inn in Kilmahog
> (that's
> a mile and a bit north of Callancer in Stirlingshire, Scotland) singing in
> a
> Ceilidh. The following are the lyrics of "The Portree Kid", containing,
> yes,
> a teuchter. The melody is "Ghostriders in the Sky" and it's got a lot of
> fun
> Scots words in - besides being funny, it's also got a feeling of
> genuineness
> in.

Fantastic! I heard "Ghost Riders in the Sky" being sung last year by a band
called "The Scary Bitches" and have been meaning to learn it properly ever
since. This gives me new motivation! I take it the end of the seventh line
is "Aiberdeen"? If it was somewhere else in the original, please let me
know.

Some of these rhymes don't rhyme here that would rhyme if the Scots was
written properly, and there are some other inconsistencies, so if you don't
mind, I'll have a bash at improving it (without necessarily losing the wild
west flavour!)...

A man cam ridin oot the west yin wild an stormy day
He wis tall and quiet and hungry, his een wis smoky grey
He wis lean across the hurdies but his shoothers they wis big
The terror of the hielan glens, that wis the Portree kid
His sidekick wis an orraman, an O but he wis mean
He wis caad the midnicht ploo boy, and he cam frae Aiberdeen
He had twinty seeven notches on his cromak, so they say
An killed a million Indians, awa up in Stornoway

Chorus:
He drum ho, he drum hey
The teuchter that cam frae Skye.

Portree buitit in the door he sauntert tae the bar
He poored a shot o crabbies he shouted "Slangevar"
While midnicht wis bein chattit up by a bar room girl caad Pam
That said weel "Howdy, stranger, wad ye buy'z a babycham"
Noo ower in the corner sat three men fae Auchertuil
They wis playin gemmes for money in a snakes an ledder schuil
The fourth man wis a southerner that'd come up fae Macmerry
He'd been a river gambler on the Ballachulish Ferry

Chorus

Portree walked up tae the table and he shouted "Shake me in"
He shoogled on the egg cup, he gave the dice a spin
He threw seeven sixes in a raw an the gemme wis nearly duin
But he landed on a snake, an landed on square yin
The gemme wis nearly ower an Portree wis daein fine
He’d landed on a ledder, he wis up tae forty-nine
He only had but yon tae gae an the ither man wis beat
But the gambler cowped the board up, an shouted "you're a cheat"

Chorus

Men dived ahint the rubber plants tae try and save their skins
The accordionist stopped playin, his sidekick drapped the spuins
He says "I think it's funny, you’ve been up the ledder twice,
And ye ayeweys dunt the table, when I’m gaun tae throw the dice"
The gambler drew his Skian Dubh as fast as lichtening speed
Portree grabbed a screwtop and cracked him on the heid
Then he gave him laldy wi a salmon aff the waa
An he feenished aff the business, wi his lucky grousefit's claw

Chorus

Portree walked up tae the bar, he says "I’ll hae a half"
An d’ye like the wey I stuck it on that wee Macmerry nyaff
But the Southerner crept up ahint his features wracked wi pain
And gubbed him wi an ashtray made oot o a curlin stane
The fecht went ragin on aa nicht till openin time next day
Wi a brek for soup and stovies aff a coronation tray
It wis gettin kind o obvious, that naither man wad win
When cam the shout that stopped it aa "there’s a bus trip comin in"

Chorus

They sing this sang in Galashiels and up tae Peterheid
Way doun ootower the borders across the Rio Tweed
Aboot what becam o Portree, Midnicht and the gamblin man,
They opened up a gift shop selling fresh air in a can

Chorus

Sandy
http://scotstext.org/

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From: Ingmar Roerdinkholder <ingmar.roerdinkholder at worldonline.nl>
Subject: LL-L "Etymology" 2004.10.17 (04) [E/LS/S]

> R. F. Hahn:
>
> Ingmar, who is the author of the poem?

>>>>> Oh, wasn't that clear? I wrote it myself. (Ingmar)

> Botterveugel
>
> As 'n blaachien in de wiend
> vört eblazen, weg eweid
> zie ik oe, onschuldig kiend
> in de rondte ummedreid
> zunder wille weg eleid
>
> Botterveugel, niet emaakt
> veur de harfst of veur de règen
> dat de harde storm oe raakt
> striemen vègen
> ku'j niet tègen
>
> Zommerdag dat was oen leven
> zunnestraolen op oen lief
> bloemen hebt oe kracht egeven
> oh zo mooi en zo naïef
> nooit erèkend op verlies
>
> Endlik bi'j töt rust ekomen
> stille lig ie in 'n plas
> onder bladerloze bomen
> vaste vreuren as in glas
> ieuwig dreumend van wat was
>
> Ingmar Roerdinkholder

----------

From: Ingmar Roerdinkholder <ingmar.roerdinkholder at worldonline.nl>
Subject: LL-L "Etymology" 2004.10.17 (04) [E/LS/S]

I have written two more butterfly poems, besides "Botterveugel".
Maybe this list is not the right place for them, but on the other hand,
there are so many different subjects coming by all the time, so here they
come.
The first poem is called _Sonnet van de Vlindertune_ [sO"nEt vAn d@
"flIndRtyn@]. In the city of Emmen, Drenthe, there is a beautiful Zoo
(dierentune) with
a very nice butterfly garden. That is the Vlindertune. The other one is
_Vènevlieger ["vE:n at fliGR] ie Flyer of the (peat)moor.

***
Sonnet van de Vlindertune

Ik gung hen Emmen noar de dierentune
ie weet, doar hebt ze ja zo'n prachtig vlinderpark
ik was allenig en net vrij of van 't wark
dus zat ik op 'n baankie mit de vlinders um mien krune

En op mien iene knie landden twei grote pauwe-ogen
'n keuningsvlinder vleug d'r an mien neus bijlangs
zeldzaom moment van rust en stilte, he'j zo mangs
toen za'k opiens dat ie oezölf noar mij veuroaver bogen

Ik keek oe an, verzeupe in de schiere diepte van oen ogen
die alle vlinders leut verbleken en doarbij ok hiel de dierentuun
dat God oe mij ezonden had, in zien vermogen

Wus ik mitiene, zwummend in oen blik zo gruun
Mar 't grootste wonder, achterof, is - ongelogen
da'j mij de vlinders in de boek leut bluujn

© Ingmar Roerdinkholder

***

Vènevlieger

Vènevlieger, wit as snei
in 't veurjoar ko'j veurbij
schèer ie oaver dreuge stroogies
zukend mit oen kralle-oogies
noar wat zute sukerij

In 't veurjoar grote troepen
uut de poppe - duzend roepen
op 'n warme zunnedag
toen ik op 't veld doar lag
't grös kwam mij de boks in kroepen

Vènevlieger, woar op an?
op oen vlerken gao'j vört-an
wee'j da'k oe eziene hebbe
pas goed op, vlieg niet in 't webbe
van die lepe spinneman

Ie mut ja nog eichies leggen
in de struken, op de heggen
nao de minnebuitels in de locht
die'j mar ien keer daansen mocht
he'k oe ien ding nog te zeggen:

Vènevlieger, ie gaot starven
kennen zu'j gien van oen larven
mar bedenk die leste dag
in oen ienvold, mit oen pracht
moch ie toch 't vène varven

© Ingmar Roerdinkholder 2004

> > R. F. Hahn:
> >
> > Ingmar, who is the author of the poem?
>
> >>>>> Oh, wasn't that clear? I wrote it myself. (Ingmar)
> >
> > Botterveugel
> >
> > As 'n blaachien in de wiend
> > vört eblazen, weg eweid
> > zie ik oe, onschuldig kiend
> > in de rondte ummedreid
> > zunder wille weg eleid
> >
> > Botterveugel, niet emaakt
> > veur de harfst of veur de règen
> > dat de harde storm oe raakt
> > striemen vègen
> > ku'j niet tègen
> >
> > Zommerdag dat was oen leven
> > zunnestraolen op oen lief
> > bloemen hebt oe kracht egeven
> > oh zo mooi en zo naïef
> > nooit erèkend op verlies
> >
> > Endlik bi'j töt rust ekomen
> > stille lig ie in 'n plas
> > onder bladerloze bomen
> > vaste vreuren as in glas
> > ieuwig dreumend van wat was
> >
> > © Ingmar Roerdinkholder

-----------

From: Thomas <t.mcrae at uq.net.au>
Subject: LL-L "Etymology" 2004.10.17 (04) [E/LS/S]

Grietje MENGER <grietje at menger.fsnet.co.uk> wrote
> Subject: LL-L "Etymology" 2004.10.16 (06) [E]
>The following are the lyrics of "The Portree Kid", containing, yes,
> a teuchter. The melody is "Ghostriders in the Sky" and it's got a lot of
> fun
> Scots words in - besides being funny, it's also got a feeling of
> genuineness
Grietje thanks a million for this wee beauty.
There are a couple of words that may need clarifying to the uninitiated
though. Let's have a go.

> His sidekick was an orra¹ man, and O but he was mean
> He was ca¹ed the midnight plough boy, and he came frae
I'd suggest 'Aiberdeen' could be added at the end of the second line.
An orra man may be just described as a farm labourer but a good one's worth
his weight in turnips. Highly skilled in many areas,  I wonder if they're
still advertised for by that name in Employment pages of newspapers.
Try tracking down the old song 'The Guid Orra man" which tells you a lot
about them.
> Portree booted in the door he sauntered tae the bar
> He poured a shot o crabbies he shouted "Slangevar"
In view of our recent 'crabbit' discussion I should explain that this is
actually "Crabbie's" a ginger wine popular in Scotland, mixed with scotch it
gives you a whisky mac.
> While midnight was being chatted up by a bar room girl called Pam
> Who said well howdy- stranger, wad ye buy's a babycham

Babycham ? Less said about this sickly sweet , fizzy, pear cider the better.
Dinnae Ye drink it Lassie. :-)
I'm still chuckling at this ditty.

Regards
Tom
Tom Mc Rae PSOC
Brisbane Australia
"The masonnis suld mak housis stark and rude,
To keep the pepill frome the stormes strang,
And he that fals, the craft it gois all wrang."
>>From 15th century Scots Poem 'The Buke of the Chess'

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