Sunday 17 September 2017

Yokit

It’s a job o wark, drivin half a hunner mile
T gas wi cheils aboot i price o gear, then
Sittin on i phone files, watchin i clowds flicht
Seein i girse pirl up i roon hull abeen i craft
An nae hearin a souch. 

Simmer, ye say, is affbidden ower the heids 
O is darg: we bide in i countra but wark doon wires, 
Claikin wi machines and computers and the like;
I wid sen ye a lectric letter an ye’d hae’t the meenit
My finger’s aff i button; I’d as seen tell ye 
Am awa oot t sit aneth my ain rodden tree
Tae sowf in i sun.

We’ve come a lang wye an nae mistak 
An in the meanwhile geen naewye; 
Geen backlins intae the future, richt eneuch,
Aa cause we thocht oorsels better
Than them as went afore.

Faa but a few tills the grun these days?
Faa sees i wither blaw in an hunkers doon
Till i stot o rain an its bleary blast gings ower?

We’ve fair come on but come aff the waur 
Lik a sailboat cairriet away in a sea-swall
Nane at i helm, i rither slack, daverin.
© BH. 2017

This is the third in the DriftBreitherinYokitThrou-come series.

Yokit is about work. The summer of our endeavours with just a hint of whatever fruition we might want or get. 

Incidentally, the 1100 in the image is actually one of the MG badged versions and photographed in Cotignac in Provence.

No comments: