Poetry

Fair fa' thee now thou muckle stane,                                       muckle = great or large
Thou may be Druid, Saxon, Dane
Or aiblins naething but a bane                                                aiblins = maybe bane = bone
Of our auld mother.
Some antiquarians think the ane
And some the ither

I'm no' the lad to fash my noddle -                                         fash my noddleboddle = trouble my head
I carena' wha' thou art a boddle;                                           boddle = small copper coin
I've kenned thee sin' I weel could toddle
And lo'ed thee weel.
And now as langs' I can but waddle
I'll lo'e thee still.

I redd thee frien' thou's unco blest
Wi' sic a hard unfeelin' breast
Hand fast thy bonnie mountain's nest
Nor envy man.
His flesh and bluid are sare distrest
Wi' briefer span.
Sae on this earth tae bide's a wee
And whiles a tear frae's achin' e'e
Maun trintle doon, Maun trintle                                               doon = Must trickle down
And then he'll tak' a thocht and flee
Just under groun.'

THis is followed by the following note: " The hill called Mow ( a corruption of Moule) forms part of the division between the counties of Cheshire and Staffs. It is about 8 miles from this town. On its summit is a small picturesque imitation of a ruined castle, and on one side of this is the singular rock called the 'Old Man o'Mow.' It is about 80 feet in height at its base and about 20 feet in diameter." This presumably confirms that the Old Man was present in the 1820s, and if we believe the writer when he says he's kenned it well since he could toddle, presumably it was there , twenty, thirty,forty or fifty years before that. I like verse 4 of the first poem, a nice motto for our local Alp. Regards, Philip.