Legacy

by Edith Harper

A her days she shived the needle in an oot,
tylerin, dressmakin, aye shewin.
Her warld wis ane o preens an tylers chack;
o tweeds an serge an cotton-lawn.
The daily darg wis ruled by paper pattrens,
tape-mizzers, bastin threid an pinkin shears.
At hame, aye she shewed – curtains, aaprons,
claes fur me – Ah mind thon bonnie dresses still...

Ma fingers shive the needle through the claith,
pu’in the lang fite threid ahint.
Ah troo ma hauns growe like hers –
the wrunkelt skin, the swallen finger-jynts.
Her legacy – mindins o ma bairnheid,
an the hauns o a shewster.