General Category > General Scottish
Scottish Poetry
Stirling Thompson:
"Pride comes before a fall" is a constant theme in Scots poetry (and life) and that comes through in this poem about Mrs Purdie's apple tart by an anonymous writer.
Mrs Purdie's Aipple Tart
The bakin' at oor village show's the best ye've ivver seen.
Fowk come frae far an' near, frae ilka airt.
But listen till I tell ye a' aboot ma guid aul' freen,
An' the tale o' Mrs Purdie's aipple tert.
Pair Mrs Purdie took it as an unco fashious slight
That her pastry nivver seemed tae mak' the grade.
For the judges didna even cut a slice tae hae a bite
O' the aipple tert that Mrs Purdie made.
It wis in an' oot the freezer wis Mrs Purdie's pie,
Sma' wunner that ma freen wis losin' hert.
It nivver won a mention an' the judges passed it by.
Whit could be wrang wi' Mrs Purdie's tert?
'I doot,' said Mrs Thomson, ' that the judges must hae kent
Her d'oyley' (upon which the tert wis laid).
For in ivvery flooer show roon aboot, the plate wis evident
Wi' the aipple tert that Mrs Purdie made.
Last spring the frost had nipped the blossom: aipples there were nane.
Dame Nature cam' tae Mrs Purdie's aid.
For naebody had ony fruit, an' so it stood alane,
The aipple tert that Mrs Purdie made.
Her aipple tert wis nae the best, nor wis it yet the worst.
But by itssel' an' in a class apairt.
Sae the judges had nae option an' they had tae pit it first
And gie the prize tae Mrs Purdie's tert.
She wis a happy wumman: she wis quite puffed up wi' pride.
Ower the triumph that pit ithers in the shade.
She'd be mentioned in the paper, tellin' fowk the coonty wide
O' the aipple tert that Mrs Purdie made.
The show wis ower: she picked it up and went tae tak' it hame.
'We'll hae this tae oor Sunday tea,' she said.
An' she proodly gethered up the winnin' ticket wi' her name
Aside the tert that Mrs Purdie made.
Bit then, pride aften gangs afore a fa', o' that I'm shair.
She drapt the plate, an' crash! Awa' it gaed.
It lay in near a hunner wee bit pieces on the flair,
The aipple tert that Mrs Purdie made.
Meaning of unusual words:
frae ilka airt=from every part
unco fashious=very vexacious
d'oyley=a small round piece of linen or paper placed under a dish or bowl
aside=beside
gaed=went
Ernest Thompson:
I must admit I've been enjoying this poetry section so much I thought I'd throw my tuppence worth in.
Poetry is not my forte as with my horrific memory I can never remember the words so here's just a couple of facts relating poetry to Thom(p)sons'.
DID YOU KNOW
that Robbie Burns poem "COMPOSED IN AUGUST" is said to have been inspired when he met Margaret Thompson at Kirkoswald.
George Thomson of Limekilns, Dumfernline, FIFE. who had a long term relatioship with Robbie Burns was responsible for putting music to his poetry. George was married to Katherine Miller of Kelso. One of their Grand Daughter's married the famous writer Charles Dickens. George is buried at Kensal Green Cemetery, London and the inscription on his tombstone was written by Charles Dickens. Raeburn painted his portrait.
Buried in the same cemetery is Charles Thompson (1st Lord Ritchie of Dundee)(1836-1906) Politician.
Ern of Oz
Stirling Thompson:
Marriott Edgar
was born in Scotland in 1880 and died in London on May 5th, 1951.
He worked with Stanley Holloway as writer and performer and wrote
many of the monologues that made Holloway famous.
The Lion And Albert
by Marriott Edgar
There's a famous seaside place called Blackpool,
That's noted for fresh air and fun,
And Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Went there with young Albert, their son.
A grand little lad was young Albert
All dressed in his best; quite a swell
With a stick with an 'orse's 'ead 'andle
The finest that Woolworth's could sell.
They didn't think much to the Ocean
The waves, they were fiddlin' and small
There was no wrecks and nobody drownded
Fact, nothing to laugh at, at all.
So, seeking for further amusement
They paid and went into the zoo
Where they'd lions and tigers and camels
And old ale and sandwiches too.
There were one great big lion called Wallace
His nose were all covered with scars
He lay in a somnolent posture
With the side of his face on the bars.
Now Albert had heard about lions
How they was ferocious and wild
To see Wallace lying so peaceful
Well, it didn't seem right to the child.
So straight 'way the brave little feller
Not showing a morsel of fear
Took his stick with its 'orse's 'ead 'andle
And shoved it in Wallace's ear.
You could see the lion didn't like it
For giving a kind of a roll
He pulled Albert inside the cage with 'im
And swallowed the little lad 'ole
Then Pa, who had seen the occurrence
And didn't know what to do next
Said "Mother! Yon lions 'et Albert"
And Mother said "Well, I am vexed!"
Then Mr and Mrs Ramsbottom
Quite rightly, when all's said and done
Complained to the Animal Keeper
That the lion had eaten their son.
The keeper was quite nice about it
He said "What a nasty mishap
Are you sure it's your boy he's eaten?"
Pa said "Am I sure? There's his cap!"
The manager had to be sent for
He came and he said "What's to do?"
Pa said "Yon lion's 'et Albert
And 'im in his Sunday clothes, too."
Then Mother said, "Right's right, young feller
I think it's a shame and a sin
For a lion to go and eat Albert
And after we've paid to come in."
The manager wanted no trouble
He took out his purse right away
Saying "How much to settle the matter?"
And Pa said "What do you usually pay?"
But Mother had turned a bit awkward
When she thought where her Albert had gone
She said "No! someone's got to be summonsed"
So that was decided upon.
Then off they went to the Police Station
In front of the Magistrate chap
They told 'im what happened to Albert
And proved it by showing his cap.
The Magistrate gave his opinion
That no one was really to blame
And he said that he hoped the Ramsbottoms
Would have further sons to their name.
At that Mother got proper blazing
"And thank you, sir, kindly," said she
"What waste all our lives raising children
To feed ruddy lions? Not me!"
Come back tommorrow for the rest of the story! Stu
Ernest Thompson:
Hey Stu,
I thought I might spur you on to Scotlands Greatest Poet or possibly poetry related in some way or other to Thom(p)sons. Obviously you have an extensive knowledge in this area and even though I am a fan I have to use reference books to jog the memory. I look forward to this segment and your input. In the mean time here's another Thomson involved in the poetic world.
Jessy Lewars (1778-1855)
The last of Robbie Burns' heroines.
Jessy was heard by the Bard singing 'the Robin cam' to the Wren's Nest' and composed for the air in his own words 'O wert thou in the cauld blast'.
Jessy helped nurse him in his last 6 months and after his death cared for the poets' 4 small boys.
Jessy Lewars married James Thomson, a writer in Dumfies, in June 1799 and had 5 sons and 2 daughters. She was buried in St. Michael's Churchyard, Dumfies not far from Burns's own grave.
O WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST
O wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea,
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee;
Or did Misfortune's bitter storms
around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.
Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare.
The desert were a Paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there;
Or were I Monarch o' the globe,
Wi' thee to reign, wi' thee to reign,
The brightest jewel in my Crown
Wad be my Queen, wad be my Queen.
Stirling Thompson:
Ern, Thanks for the kind words! I must admit however that my expertise is virtually non-existent. I simply enjoy poetry and like to share that with others. Whatever notes may accompany the poems I post were most likely also on the site where found the poem and has been included in the hope it will add to your enjoyment of the poem. Truth to tell also, I've rather been avoiding posting Burns material simply because he is so well known. I look for lesser known Scots poets and poems of a more humorous nature (these tend to appeal more to those that say they don't like poetry) to broaden exposure.
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