Laevin Hame

by James Sinclair

Wi nae guid itill his haert
da corbie tore at ribcage
da krang o da lamb spret

My name is Jeemie Androo,
sam as me fedder an his faider afore him.
Wir fock ir bidden i da sam twa hooses apo da hill at Setter
fur as lang as ony een has da mindin.
Da hairst o 1865 wis wan o poor paekins
an a starvation dat held fae afore Yule
till da second week o March. Aabody wis black-fantin.

Me, I towt dey wir nae idder
for hit but ta mak fur da toon o Lerook
an try me luck wi da Davis Strait whalers,
see if I could fill wir empty purse wi siller.
staap wir stengted bellies wi maet, I micht
even hae a shillin ur twa ta mak an honest woman o Annie o da Daeks
an as shu held me haand I felt her haet pass trowe me.
So wi strict warnins ta come back hame in ee piece,
I haeved me kist  apo me back an med wey on fit
by vye an by voder ta da steep lanes o da toon.

We hed kin dat pat me up fur ee week dan annider.
Ivery moarnin till mirk I wid staand at da hiecht o da Knab,
i da hoop o catchin a tall ship makkin for port.
Dan ee day laek hit or no, risin piece by piece
abune far horizon, a skeleton o masts an spars.
Thick coal black cloods o reek wir spewin fae da stented belly o da baess,
an I wis da first een rowin oot ta meet
dat fine riggit whaleship, da Diana, as shu drappit anchor.