New poems in Scots fae across Scotland written by talented young makars.

If you'd like to see your poetry featured here, send your new Scots poems to matthew@scotshoose.com


Rosie Gilmour

Scots poems 2012 - 2017


Fareweel tae Wallyford

A'm aff in June tae spreid ma wings
A'm birlin doon the toun tae learn new hings
The Primary Seevens ur fleein this nest
We're gonnae gie it laldy and dae oor best

Ma teachers taught me weel - A learnt hunners!
Ma nursery got me aff tae a guid stert
That's whaur A learnt the maist important skills
The hings that mak ye really smert

Be kind and thochtfu, honest and fair
Be brave, hae courage, aye mind and share
Be patient, content and mak guid choices
Nae need tae be crabbit or hae bossy voices

Och Wallyford - we've made a guid story ower the years
Guid times, some dowie anes as weel
Whit matters noo is that we cairry thon story
Sae it's a bonnie tale tae tell

And Wallyford Primary! Yir flittin soon, tae.
A hope yer new schuil is a braw place tae play
This auld wee village schuil will fade intae the past
Locked in oor herts wi memories sure tae last

Sae lang,Wallyford Primary Schuil
May aw yer days fill ye wi glee
A fond fareweel and a muckle Thank You
This is the last . . . Scots poem . . . fae me

by Rosie Gilmour

Uniform


Av goat tae wear a uniform
Tae schuil every day
It's no like ma playin claes
It's black wi a wee bit grey

A wish it wis multicullered
Like a rainbow in the sky
Ad go tae schuil aww cheerie
An no be sae shy

A wish it wis reid an yellae
Thir ma favrit cullers

by Rosie Gilmour (Primary 1)

The Thistle

The floo'er o Scotland
is awfy jaggy
It pilled ma claes
An now thir raggy

A pilled ane oot the groond
It jagged ma wee pinkie
It's aww reid an sair noo
The thistle is a stinkie

by Rosie Gilmour (Primary 2)





Ma Schuil

Ma name is Rosie Gilmour
Am in Primary 3
A go tae Wallyford Primary
It suits mae tae a tee

Ma teachers name is Mrs Harte
She tells mae whit tae dae
Readin n writin n whiteboard stuff
Paintin n numbers tae

At half past ten it's playtime
The lassies like skippin n dancin
The laddies play wi a muckle blae baw
Painfully sair if it hits yir jaw

If ye git the boak or huv sair lugs
Ye go tae Linda or Kerry
If they cannae fix ye they gie ya a hug
An yir maw'ill come and git ye

If yir no listenin or reidy tae learn ye
Git telt tae see Mrs Stratton
Shell no be chuffed ye lit yirsel doon
Fae daein tae much chattin

When the bell rings it's time tae gie hame
An am sad cos I'll miss aw ma chums
Bit no tae worry, I'll be back in the morn
A cannae wait, a jist miss them tons

by Rosie Gilmour (Primary 3)

Bak Tae Schuil

Bak tae school an aw wrapped up
Oot tae the could wi ma scarf n gloves
Schuilbag oan ma shooters an ma jam pieces tae
Wonderin, will a earn a dojo in ma cless the day

Intae ma line, it's the loangest oot the lot
Up tae the landin an a tak oaf ma coat
Ben tae the clessroom Mr Henry says si doon
An am aw ready wishin fir break time soon!

Dinnae be a clipe and dinnae act glaiket
Dinnae leave yir gymkit or loose yir jaiket
Dinnae be crabbit and dinnae be a daunder
Dinnae pick yir neb an lit yir head wander

Dinnae be a blether or say 'a dinnae ken'
Dinnae leave yir hamework, y'll stay in past ten
Dinnae be a nebbie an dinnae be a fidget
If ye end up wi a caution, ye'll feel a richt eejit

Efter ma lunch it's aw fine and dandy
Bit whey's stuffin thir face wi Christmas candy!
Weel, whit di ye ken, its Linda and Kerry,
Nae wonder thir keekin sae merry!

First day bak is an absolute scunner
When the last bell rings I'm daein a runner
Hame tae ma faimly an ma wee braw hoose
Tae a muckle choklate biskit an a wappin gless o juice!

by Rosie Gilmour (Primary 4)






Haimster Pairty

Jings! a dinnae ken whit tae say!
Aboot whit's happened since Christmas Day
A got a bonnie wee haimster ye see
She's jist a bairn, hir names Lily

Aww! she wis a wee bit feart the first few days
Bit no anymair, she got set in hir ways
She wis bitin the cage tryin tae git oot
Clingin tae the bars like crash bandicoot

Runnin up ma airms, doon ma trooser legs
Scurryin the washin an bitin claes pegs
Hidin doon the settee an the back o the telly
Dreepin o'er a pillae an oan tae ma faither's belly

Ma maws face wis lookin awfy peely waly
Ma maw an haimsters are no pally pally
A tried tae call Lily hame wi a wee bit aiple
Till ma faither scooped her up wi the kitchen ladle

She's no alooed tae roam noo it's no safe at aw
She rolls aroond the flair insteed wi her muckle haimster baw
Her cage is foo o toys wi a cosy wee widden hoose
An that's ma wee Scots poem ae when Lily got loose

by Rosie Gilmour (Primary 5)


Shoapaholic

Av goat a passion for fashion
An' shoappin fir claes
A cud shoap tae a droap
Aw day lang, nae bother

A gie up tae the Fort tae New Look
Fir a jaiket an a froak
Then a gie intae H&M
Fir leggins, toaps an soacks

A wee dauner intae River Island
Fir a wee bit glitter and spairkle
An a wander intae Next
A buy troosers that stoap at ma ainkle

Then a gie in tae JD Sports
Tak a wee peek at the trainers
But ah'm awfy fussy wi the anes a like
An a feel like a richt complainer

Yu'll no git Doakter Mairtins here though
Ye need tae go intae toon insteid
See these bits ae mine a cannae tak them oaf
Th're the best hings since sliced breid

Ah'll need tae git savin fir ma next day oot
Sae a kin splash the cash in the sales
A cannae wait till a hit the shoaps
Sae a can fill ma bags wi claes off the rails!

by Rosie Gilmour (Primary 6)





Groonded
by Caitlin Heron


My ma has groonded me
A'm stuck in ma room and
Wanna punch the waw
I mean it wasney ma fault
I write in pure scots
I got bad spelling in ma report
So that's why I'm groonded
Aw alane and bored oot ma nutter
Everybudy else is oot
I'm stuck
In ma room like a right dafty
For writing in scots.
Whit's wrang with that ?
Robert Burns did it and he became
Famous.
Aw that happens to me is A get
Groonded.


Wir Beach
by Finnley Manson

Da waves is brally strong
Aa da rocks is slippery
Da muckle waves dunder
Da fierce wind howlin
Da waves smashin da rocks
Sprayin up ower da beach.

Da sea is very calm
Da waves lap ower da stons peerie wyes
I can hear da birds tweetin
Aa o da midgies ir attackin me
My dug is splashin aroond in da waater
When I'm skimmin stons.