Blacksmith
—in memory of Auld Andra Fraser of Carnwath
he bit on his pipe
smoked long round vowels through lips
fixed in the thinnest of scribbles
and gripped each word in tongs like those
once found in the smithies
where his consonants were fired and burred
in the tales he told he spoke of kye pairks
of doors left onsneck’t
of men wha’d been gassed in the war
his craft was mainly bicycles by then
cannibaled constructions and repairs
but occasionally on a fancy
just to entertain us
he would fire up the cold furnace
and spit sparks from the anvil
then e’s powie wad dirl
as e pín’t oot the airn
bruntin the win wi e’s darg
by Andrew McCallum
from Blast Furnace, Jan 2011
kye pairks: cattle fields
onsneck't: unlocked
wha'd: who'd
e’s powie wad dirl
as e pín’t oot the airn
bruntin the win wi e’s darg:
his hammer would ring
as he struck out the iron
scorching the wind with his labour