Wee, wicked wifey, elf-shot grizzled stane,
Ye show tae me your ugly shouder bane.
Whan hameart cam your man for his gray-breid,
You, auld pictarnie, sheuk at him your heid
That nicht the peerie brounie fowk cam roond,
An’ gaed in throu your door athout a soond.
An’ for a cantrip, wheeched your saul awa,
An’ brocht ye tae the brounie Queen’s ain ha’.
“Ye’ll mak your breid for me, ablo ma stair,”
Pronoonced the brounie Queen, “for iver mair!”
But you, wee wifey, foondered on your knee,
An’ grat alood. “Some peety tak on me!”
Her peety wis… ye’d see the licht o’ day
In yonder kye-fauld, there, aside the wey,
But breid, but man, but onything, alane –
Gray wifey o’ Gruline – a staundin’ stane!
A pretty tale, young Jenny, but untrue;
The deeper story stays unknown to you.
Stand not beyond the setting of the sun,
Back to your Lowland home, young Jenny – run!
Author notes
On the Island of Mull, off the coast of Western Scotland, is a solitary standing stone. It stands in a field, near the hamlet of Guline. It seems to resist being photographed, hunching away from any passer by, as though unwilling to be disturbed. I call her “The Grey Lady of Gruline”, and have often thought about writing her story. But today, another thought crossed my mind, and I composed the above.
I have imagined a visitor from the Lowlands, seeing the stone for the first time, experiencing a shiver of fear, and making up a banal fairy tale to explain the monolith. The truth, whispered to her in precise English (as spoken by those whose native language is the Gaelic) is more terrible, but is not revealed. The whole is meant to be a metaphor for the traditional lack of understanding between the Highland and Lowland Scots, who were for centuries two distinct ethnic, linguistic, and cultural peoples.
I am playing around here. Although living in Scotland, I am not a native speaker of the guid Scots tongue, much of which is now archaic in any case (to the despair of those zealots who would have it as our national language). It is very hard to compose verse in Scots – experts warn that the result will be gibberish, and I am aware that my effort above is pretty poor, even given poetic license. The words may give you trouble – heaven knows they gave me a migraine! – but instead of a glossary, I have rendered the whole poem into English for you. A couple of words do need explanation:
“elf-shot” can refer to Neolithic arrow-heads, but there is also an adjectival use, referring to a cattle disease supposedly inflicted by fairy magic. I use it above metaphorically, to mean “afflicted by enchantment”. The stone actually does stand in a field where cattle graze.
“gray-breid” is rye bread, or sometimes oat bread.
You little, wicked woman, turned to stone,
You show to me your ugly shoulder-bone.
When homeward came your husband for his bread,
You, ancient harpy, shook at him your head!
That night the little fairy-folk came round,
And entered through your door without a sound,
And, for a frolic, whisked away your soul.
And brought you to the fairy Queen’s own hall.
"Below my stairs you’ll bake my bread, for sure,”
Pronounced the fairy Queen. “For ever more!”
But little woman, you fell to your knee
And wept aloud. “Some pity take on me!”
Her pity was… you’d see the light of day
In yonder cattle-field beside the way,
No bread, no husband, nothing, all alone –
Grey Lady of Gruline – a standing stone.
Written September 24th, 2006
In a list
A contest entry
- Tales of fantasy by Dark Otter.
600 points, ended April 2, 19 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - ENNYFING COLLOQUIAL by jimmy20johns.
1800 points, ends October 18, 10 entries
• next poem in this contest, • Add to finalists list, or remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 33 of 33
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I thought the dialect wonderful hun, My grandmother and father are both from Scotland, and both speak Gaelic as well, but the rendering of their every day words and accent is very very close to your rendition above. great work I loved the tale and the accent. Excellent
Hugs, Bunny
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Well this is Scots rather than Gaelic, but both are our native languages here in Scotland, along with English which is the language of official communication. I am so glad you liked this.
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A most enjoyable read, both in dialect and
English. Seems I had seen the picture before
but never heard any story. Delightful.
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Well I made the story up as I went along!
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Absolutely Brilliant!
What a great piece! I can only say 'Hear Hear' to all the comments already posted. Thanks for entering the contest. Cheers, jimmy
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Thanks, Jimmy.
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Another amazing write. Thanks for sharing this with me! What a great tale you've woven here and I liked trying to read it in Gaelic. The translation is great, the flow is perky making me feel it should be funny yet the tale itself is dark (nursery rhyme memories!) - simply wonderful!
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a golden masterpiece !!!
I am speechless ... crossing fingers, toes and eyes for you to harvest golden cup of glory ...
much love,
maa
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I broke all my own rules - acres and acres of notes!
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Fantastic. I am in awe.
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Tapadh leat, Ailean nan clarsach!
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Your entries are golden
This I will return to. Authentic, archaic language done with the viewpoint of someone from that era. This piece is poetry. Thank you! Where is the sound of bagpipes coming from?
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Mairi
I'd be a liar if I were to say that I could read the first as well the subsequent translation. Is this your own rendering of the legend of the Grey Lady, or do the people and the owners of that land see it that way as well?
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This is entirely from my own imagination, John. As far as I know, the stone is not specifically named, and I made the legend up myself.
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This is GREAT! I love it! I did my best to read the original version and it was hard. I guess I'm either a Wee, wicked wifey or a brounie Queen. Well done, this is fun.
Love,
Amera ♥
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Och ye're nae wee wicked wifey, lassie... aye, maybe the Queen o' the Brounie fowk. I'll hae tae keep on the guid side o' ye!
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I will Mairi, I will.
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OK Jordi - let me know if you find it.
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Thank you Michael - you are well aware it was your "Menhir" which gave me the idea
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Mairi, It was not the same name, but i remember reading something about a fairy-stone in a field or something like that, and i think it was your 'grey-lady' if i ever find the text i'll tell you what it is. sorry, i can't remember!
-Jordi -
Very fine
I cannot imagine anyone doing this as well you can. Very fine.
Edited on Sep 25, 9:22 because 'because'. -
Hi Frodo. Thanks for visiting. It's more than an accent, even more than a dialect - closer to a separate language. I am not very adept at it, and I am waiting for a Scots-speaker to come and pick holes in it. Glad you lkied it.
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Hi Jordi. Actually I had no idea there was already a myth about that stone. The name for her is mine - although I have little doubt someone else will have coined the same name for her as I have. Thanks for the comments - glad you liked it.
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Oooooh, the Grey Lady is not as holy as that. She has stood since before the name of "Mary" was ever known on Mull.
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Wow, this was neat... I haven't read anything like this in a while... something written to be in an accent. Very cool and fun and the story behind it was very interesting. Loved the alliteration in the first line.
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this is great Mairi! I had heard of the stone, -it has some sort of myth behind it or something I don't quite recall it- in a book of Faeries of Ireland and Scotland, but never had I heard it so skillfully narated nor penned. Once again I am taken by your work. True, it took me a couple of reads of this poem, and the language is a wee bit odd, but it is a captivating story nonetheless.
Fair Winds!
-Jordi
Edited on Sep 24, 1:48 p.m. because ''. -
Only you could do this
Oh, 'tis brilliant and filled with wonderment for me on this fine Sabbath Day! Thank you for posting this grand work of art, for truly, that is what it is! If moisture were to trickle down the top of the stone, surely the devout would wonder if it might be the Blessed Virgin, for she looks so real standing there.
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Hi azure... have you visited one of mine before? I can't remember - I must be getting old. I am really glad you liked it. Thanks.
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Shiny Sister
Well, this is the currently non-PC version. I couldn't figure out a way to have her turned to stone for refusing to help her wife steep the lentils! Thanks for the praise.
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Hi Lily, hi Lily, hi Lo! I am really glad you liked this, and I am flattered by the "artless" and "natural". I hate it when metred poetry limps - I like a bit of flow. If I can achieve that I am very glad.
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This was so cool to read, and your author's comments were a great story behind the poem. This is really a great poem, and that you captured a photo of her for your graphic is wonderful.
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Now there is a stark reminder of why we attend the men.
It's a good thing we can't be turned to stone and stuck out in a pasture for refusing to get the boss coffee. There would be precious few women left and no pastures without stones. I really tried hard to read and understand the Scots talk version. I love it so much and sometimes I can figure it all out. Alas, I finally had to resort to the translation. Either version, I love this little poem. And I didn't think the Scots version was any less poetic for the language. Sis, you always nail it! Shiny Sister
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Magnificent! Absolutely superb and witty. Apart from having a good hand with this old language, your rhyme and metre seem artless, even natural (if that isn't an insult), as light and skilled as the stone is heavy and crude. Marvellous! Lily
Edited on Sep 24, 5:20 because ''.
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