Monday, 24 July 2017

From the Scots Skald: Th' Raid Oan Iceland

T'was noo th' time
Fur th' Scots tae raid
A fair way oaf tae th' land o' ice.

Tavish McTavish th' Laird o' th' North
Hid awa' his dosh 'n' set aff
Awae wi' his warband tae gang revenge
Oan Leif th' Jammy Bastard
By attacking his oathsworn Gunnblasdt th' Savage.

This wid be a warnin' - neist time
Tavish wid stickone oan heim insteed.
Thay crossed th' wild sea tae th'
Frozen shores o' that bleak land.
Keepin' edgy, in na time,
Tavish’s scoot hud fun a herd
O' prime hielan beef a-grazin' nearby.

But th' cattle wur protected
By some Viking warriors anaw berserkers.
Tavish hud come prepar'd,
His brave Scots warriors
Armed wi' pointy blades
Sportin' thair finest tartan kilts.
Th' gods wur wi' him tae,
Fur at his side wis his shaman Ewan Mea.

Th' Vikings tho' didnae fair rammy.
Th' wee feartie-cat Gunnblast hud tried instead
Tae pay aff some ae Tavish's men.
Bit a few pointy wurds
'N' th' threat o' a curse
Set th' Scots in order again.

"Whit dae ye think ye'r daein' ye jupin' skivers?
Ah ken ye'r a' stingy gits
Bit dae ye nae hae some loilty?"
Ewan Mea cried oot.
"Awa' ye go ya wee bastirts
Or ah'll gie ye a skelp!"

Sae thay wid hauld fur Tavish’s signal
'N' then tak' th' naurby kine
Bringin' thaim back tae th' ships.

Tavish, wi' Ewan Mea 'n' his picked men
Win' toward th' furthest herd
Behind some rocky ground.
As th' Scots approach'd
Th' Vikings wur in disarray,
Fur thair Laird hud yit tae turn up!
Thay didnae ken whither tae staun thair ground or bolt.

Slowly, thay retreated
Sae Tavish signalled his warband,
An' th' rammy stairted.

At lest, Gunnblast 'n' his men arrived,
Bae which time th' berserkers wur
Filled wi' rage an' in a richt pelter.
Th' Viking warriors a'vanc'd,
Attackin' Tavish’s kilted guard.
T'was a bloody stramash,
Bit th' Scots fought lik' wild beasties.
Wi' th' gods oan thair side murdurred a' th' enemy
At th' cost o' bit yin o' thair ain.

T'was nae time tae depairt,
'N' th' Scots headed fur thair boats.
Gunnblast wis fair rummled win he saw
Howfur mony o' his kine hud bin nicked.
His berserkers charged,
Yhey hairy naked fanatics
Foamin' at th' geggy as thay bolted.
Brave Tavish turned
Tae coupon thaim alone,
'N' at th' lest moment as th' berserkers charged,
In true Scots defiance,
Tavish took a maddy
An' pure wide he hurled his kilt aside
'N' exposed a' he hud tae th' wurld.

Sic bravery is mair than even berserkers kin tak'!

Thair attack stall'd, stutter'd, falter'd, 'n' fail'd,
Th' berserkers retreated in horror 'n' confusion
'N' hoofed it a' the wey hame.

Th' battle wis won, th' cattle nicked,
Revenge oan Leif th' Jammy wis taken.

'N' in Iceland to this dae tales ur tellt
Aroond campfires at nicht
Tae beware th' weap'n a Scotsman wields beneath his kilt.

From the Scots Skald: Awa' Wi' Ye Anglae-Danes!

Brave Laird Tavish escorted hi' baggage 
wi' a unit o' hearthguard, 'n' a unit o' warriors
N' brought alang his personal shaman fur guid luck. 
Th' traitorous scumbag Alfred 
O' th' sassenach horde
Hid lik' a feartie-cat 
Wi' twa units o' warriors,
A unit o' hearthguard wi' dane axes 
An' a unit o' levy bowmen.

Baith armies faced ilk ither o'er th' battlefield
Th' scots howling insults 'n' battle cries
Th' sassenachs cowering lik' li'l moosies.

Wi' baith o' Tavish’s units fernent th' baggage
Th' foremaist shift by th' whinging sassenach de'il 
Wis tae advance his hearthguard 'n' levy
N' then shoot th' brave Scots warriors
Th' useless dregs killing nae but yin man. 

Seein' th' approachin' ambush
Brave Tavish drew his baggage tae his richt 
Intae clear land beyond a wood. 
He pat is hearthguard 'n' warriors in th' wey tae mak' a screen
Afore th' nae-gid Anglae-Danish scrotes.

Huvin blootert awfy much cratur th' nicht afore,
Nae a' o' Tavish’s baggage cuid keep up! 
Th' lest unit wis exposed tae th' bowfing Anglae-Danes. 
Gi'n it laldy, 
See'n th' opportunity tae destroy 'n' plunder, 
Gallus Alfred sen' in his four hearthguard 
All a-chargin' an' wavin' their lang axes 
Agin th' rear baggage unit. 

Th' attack wis richt bonnie
Bit at a cost o' sassenach blud
Cuttin' th' hearthguard by hauf. 

Wi' yin baggage unit destroy'd
N' th' ither twa an' th' warriors fatugued
By th' experience o' seeing a unit destroy'd 
Tavish cried upon his shaman 
Fur hulp 'n' inspiration.

"Do yer dinger, ye reekin' tumshie, 
Or I’ll gie ye a skelpit lug!"
The Laird holler'd
An' th' order wa' carried oot forthwith.

Fortuin wis truly oan the side o' th' brave.
Th' three fatigued units wur claise enough 
Tae hear th' master’s wairds o' gumption
Tha lifted th' spirits. 
Tavish 'n' his baggage continued 
Tae shift aroon th' wood 
Harass'd by doaty sassenach archers. 

Wi' face like a skelped erse, 
Crabbit Alfred sen' his warriors
Aroond th' back o' th' wood 
Tae cut aff Tavish’s escape. 

Wi' an opportunity tae attack anither baggage, 
Grippie Alfred charged in yin o' his warrior units.
Bu' stoatin' the script don’t aye gang th' wey thay plan,
An' afore th' warriors cuid reach th' baggage 
Thay met th' end o' Tavish’s hearthguard screen. 

Tho' 'twas eight agin four th' battle-board wis gey muckle 
In Tavish’s favour, 
Fa' th' warriors wur reduced tae yin man in nae time. 

Seeing th' safety o' th' buird lip loomin' 
Tavish gaed fur it
An' sen' his baggage intae safety.

Reelin' fae th' massacre o' his warriors, 
Alfred di' hi' dinger, 
But whit’s fur ye’ll no go by ye, as thay dae say. 

An' th' escape o' th' baggage wis th' final straw, 
Fur Alfred wi' th' remains o' his warband
Headed hame.

While wi' yin voice a' th' Scots a-cried:

"Awa' n bile your heads, an' dinnae haste ye back, ye bampot Jessies!"