The Blue Jacket

The Blue Jacket
When there comes a flower to the stingless nettle,
      To the hazel bushes, bees,
I think I can see my little sister
      Rocking herself by the hazel trees.

Rocking her arms for very pleasure
      That every leaf so sweet can smell,
And that she has on her the warm blue jacket
      Of mine, she liked so well.

Oh to win near you, little sister!
      To hear your soft lips say – 
'I'll never tak' up wi' lads or lovers,
      But a baby I maun hae.

'A baby in a cradle rocking,
      Like a nut, in a hazel shell,
And a new blue jacket, like this o' Annie's,
      It sets me aye sae well.'
Marion Angus

from The Turn of the Day (Edinburgh: The Porpoise Press, 1931), and included in The Singin Lass: selected work of Marion Angus, edited by Aimée Chalmers (Polygon, 2006) 

Reproduced by permission of the Estate of Marion Angus.
Marion Angus

Coming late in her life to poetry, Marion Angus wrote during the 1920s, frequently in her native Scots, poems  suggesting social and emotional rejection, and on the ballad-themes of lost love and unquiet spirits. 

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