This is in partly in the Doric of north east Scotland...

A Simmer bonnet..

Hae ye iver seen a sicht sae bonnie
that ranks in loveliness wi’ onie
o’ natures melodies ?

Well...once.........



A rosebud lovely lass I spyed
wi’ retinue o’ lads loo’ eyed ...
wha’, for her smile they ably vied
tae nae avail-
an sae tae Kirk an’ prayer they hie’d
in youthful trail..

She gie’d them nae the slichtest glance
as on she led them in their dance
but, nane wad hae a beggars chance
wi’ that sweet lass-
an’ doomed, tae ever loving trance
their tyme wad pass.

I watched her dainty footsteps skip
an’ the blossom o’ her rose-red lips
I langed but for, a nectar sip,
a sweetheart kiss-
my heart within luves tender grip
for that simmer sunday miss.

As fate wad play its impish tease
a sudden gust o’ gentle breeze
blew her bonnet, wi’ playful ease
aff her chestnut mane-
an’ whisk’d it high, on windy seas
an’ her giddy cry in vain..

The bonnet waltzed in swirlin’ joy
an’ birlin’ like a peerie toy
the lass noo.. nae langer silly coy
in screamin’ laughter ran-
an lucky wha wad be the boy
t’wad mak the man..

That bonnet..skirlin’ in lofty fun
wi’ cheils pursuing... on the run
breathless..they gie’d up the gun..
chance wad play the ace..
I wad iver be the rising sun-
upon her lovely face..

At rest ..at my clumsy dusty feet
the bonnet rested.. in slumber sweet,
an’ stooping.. tenderly..I retrieve’d
the wayward cap...
t’was in that Juno simmer heat..
rose ..my young-man sap ..

She met my gaze wi’ broon ee’d look,
an’ wi’ her smile she lovely took
the dark ..fae this dust feathered rook..
an’ in her maidens plight-
she wrest me fae my far aff neuk..
tae be..her bonnie Knight..

Upon that simmers day.. my fate
as often since.. as I debate
the meeting o’ my angel mate
t’was heaven sent...
She made me late for Sunday Mass..
I niver did repent....

Graham..juno 03