Skip to content

Scottish Poetry Library

Register/Sign in
Shopping Bag Shopping Bag
Bringing people and poems together
  • Home
  • Poetry
    • Poets
    • Poems
    • Makar – National Poet
      • Our Waking Breath: A Poem-letter from Scotland to Ukraine
      • A Woman’s A Woman
      • The story of the Makar – National Poet of Scotland
    • Best Scottish Poems
    • Spiorad an Àite
      Spirit of Place
    • The Trysting Thorns
    • Poetry Ambassadors
      Tosgairean na Bàrdachd
      • Poetry Commissions: Walter Scott 250
        Coimiseanan Bàrdachd: Walter Scott 250
      • Poetry Ambassadors 2021
    • Posters
    • Podcasts
  • Library
    • Become a borrower
    • Catalogue
    • Collections
    • Ask a librarian
    • Copyright enquiries
  • Learning
    • SQA set texts
    • Learning resources
    • Designing sensory poetry activities
    • Children’s poems in Scots
    • National Poetry Day archive
    • New to poetry?
    • Advice for poets
  • Events
    • What’s On
    • Meeting rooms and venue hire
    • Exhibitions
  • Shop
    • Poetry Highlights
    • Entropie Books
    • Stichill Marigold Press
    • Poems for Doctors, Nurses & Teachers
    • Scottish Poetry
    • Poetry Pamphlet Cards
    • Help
  • About us
    • Our story
    • Our people
    • Company Papers & Policies
    • Our projects
    • Our building
    • FAQs
    • Find us
  • Support us
    • Become a Friend
    • Donate
  • Blog
Shopping BagShopping Bag
Ask a librarian
  • Home
  • >
  • Poetry
  • >
  • Frances Robson
  • >
  • Daith o Saint Andrew
Donate Donate icon Ask a Librarian Ask a Librarian icon

Daith o Saint Andrew

Frances Robson

The siller moonlicht straiks ower
this boorach o neds that jumped me,
hellbent oan ma daith. Ah feel the reek
o nicotine an mingin bodies.
There’s Auld Bawheid, gowpin lik a trout;
an Wee Yin bummin’ awa at me an speirin:

Haw, Andra, whaur’s yer God noo?
Naething lik bein stark deid, is there, pal?

Thir’s a hale tsunami o fowk soomin towards me:
some wifies are staunin lik bubblyjocks at Christmas.
But wan lassie is hunkered doon oan a cauld stane
in the clarty watter unner ma feet,
luikin glaikit an disjaskit, as if she’s hud a lugfu
o Sunday sermons. Here’s nae place fur a lassie.

Whit are they daein here?
Is there naethin oan telly?
Or is the Net doon oan thir computers?

Ocht, wid ye luik at thir een poppin oot thir heids,
ettlin fur a wee swatch o me hingin here?
This wisnae whit Ah’d planned
when Ah tuik ma career break fae fishin.
Ah shuldnae huv listened tae aw that patter
aboot fishin fur men – whit a load o guff!
Insteid o hingin here by a threid,
raxed oot lik an Arbroath smokie
an flung ower a saltire.
Thir’s nae rest fur the wicked!

An Ah’m gey feart an dinnae ken
whaur Ah’ll be the morra.


Frances Robson

from Lallans 75, (Yuil 2009)

Reproduced by permission of the author.

Tags:

assault parodies saints Scots Scots society torture

About this poem

The inspiration for the poem came from Peter Howson’s painting “The Crucifixion of St Andrew” (along with the preparatory sketches). His distortion of the faces and figures of both the executioners and onlookers made a deep impact on me.  This unconventional portrayal of a familiar topic inspired me to write the poem.

The poem was the Scottish Arts Council’s featured poem in Scots in March 2010.

Share this
Facebook
Twitter
Email

Learn more

Frances Robson

Frances Robson is an Edinburgh based-poet, translator and language teacher, best known for her poems in Scots.
More about Frances Robson

Podcasts

Our audio programme of poets, poems and news for you to listen to.
Listen Now

Newsletter

Sign up for our regular email newsletter.
Subscribe now
  • Newsletter signup
  • Accessibility
  • Terms & Conditions
  • Privacy Policy
Scottish Poetry Library
5 Crichton's Close, Canongate
Edinburgh EH8 8DT
Tel: +44 (0)131 557 2876
© Scottish Poetry Library 2022.
The Scottish Poetry Library is a registered charity (No. SCO23311).
City of Edinburgh logo Green Arts Initiative logo Creative Scotland logo
Scottish Poetry Library