Pietà
Her face was thrawed.
She wisna aa come.
In the trams o her airms
the wummin held oot her first bairn.
It micht hae been a mercat day
and him for sale.
Naebody stoppit tae niffer.
His life bluid cled his breist
wi a new reid semmit.
He’d hippens for deid claes.
Aifter the boombers cleck
and the sodgers traik thro the skau
there’s an auld air sterts up –
bubblin and greetin.
It’s a ballant mithers sing
on their hunkers i the stour
for a bairn deid.
They ken it by hert.
It’s the cauldest grue i the universe
yon skelloch.
It niver waukens the deid.
