Document 645

Dipper: 33 - The Feather

Author(s): John Reid

Copyright holder(s): John Reid

For days the storm had raired ootbye,
Birlin craws across the sky
Scatterin wrack alang the shore
An fellin fir-trees by the score.

The storm was ower, the morn was still,
I tuik the auld road tae the hill
Whaur wind-kaimed gress gied wey tae heather,
An there I fand a queer-like feather.

I ken maist birds, but this wee heckle
Had come frae something mair kenspeckle
Than ocht I kenned - some fremit bird
Blawn tempest-tossed frae some faur airt.

Wi heuk an threid an fingers slee
I turned that feather tae a flee -
A flee I fished through ae troot season,
A flee that near tint me my reason.

For ilka troot I cast it ower
Tuik it wi ne'er a second glower,
Big or wee, it didna maitter,
I could hae herriet every watter.

I slauchtered troot till I was stawed,
I felt like smashin reel an rod,
Until ae day I burnt that flee
Frae its fell curse tae set me free.

An nou I fish as aince I did,
Dependent on the fish's tid,
Kennin my flees micht tak a troot,
But wi the issue aye in doot!

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wind-kaimed/wind-combed
heckle/neck-feather
kenspeckle/conspicuous
slee/skilled
stawed/sickened

Information about Document 645

Dipper: 33 - The Feather