Dr Iain McGilchrist | Daily Poetry Readings #329: Old Wife in High Spirits by Hugh MacDiarmid read by Dr Iain McGilchrist @DrIainMcGilchrist | Uploaded March 2021 | Updated October 2024, 8 hours ago.
Part of a daily series of readings of his favourite poetry by Dr Iain McGilchrist, author of The Master and His Emissary. Today's poem is Old Wife in High Spirits by Hugh MacDiarmid.
Please subscribe to this channel to be notified of the next reading.
For updates on Iain's upcoming new platform go to channelmcgilchrist.com
~ Old Wife in High Spirits by Hugh MacDiarmid ~
An auld wumman cam in, a mere rickle o banes, in a faded black dress
And a bonnet wi beads o jet rattlin’ on it;
A puir-lookin cratur, you’d think she could haurdly ha’e had less
Life left in her and still lived, but dagonit!
He gied her a stiff whisky—she was nervous as a troot
And could haurdly haud the tumbler, puir cratur;
Syne he gied her anither, joked wi’ her, and anither, and syne
Wild as the whisky up cam’ her nature.
The rod that struck water frae the rock in the desert
Was naething to the life that sprang oot o’ her;
The dowie auld soul was twinklin’ and fizzin’ wi’ fire;
You never saw ocht sae souple and kir.
Like a sackful 0’ monkeys she was, and her lauchin’
Loupit up whiles to incredible heights;
Wi’ ane owre the eight her temper changed and her tongue
Flew juist as the forkt lichtnin’ skites.
The heich skeich auld cat was fair in her element;
Wanton as a whirlwind, and shairly better that way
Than a’ crippen thegither wi’ laneliness and cauld
Like a foretaste 0’ the graveyaird clay.
Some folk nae doot’ll condemn gie’in’ a guid spree
To the puir dune body and raither she endit her days
Like some auld tashed copy o’ the Bible yin sees
On a street book-barrow’s tipenny trays.
A’ I ken is weel-fed and weel-put-on though they be
Ninety per cent 0’ respectable folk never hae
As muckle life in their creeshy carcases frae beginnin’ to end
As kythed in that wild auld carline that day!
Part of a daily series of readings of his favourite poetry by Dr Iain McGilchrist, author of The Master and His Emissary. Today's poem is Old Wife in High Spirits by Hugh MacDiarmid.
Please subscribe to this channel to be notified of the next reading.
For updates on Iain's upcoming new platform go to channelmcgilchrist.com
~ Old Wife in High Spirits by Hugh MacDiarmid ~
An auld wumman cam in, a mere rickle o banes, in a faded black dress
And a bonnet wi beads o jet rattlin’ on it;
A puir-lookin cratur, you’d think she could haurdly ha’e had less
Life left in her and still lived, but dagonit!
He gied her a stiff whisky—she was nervous as a troot
And could haurdly haud the tumbler, puir cratur;
Syne he gied her anither, joked wi’ her, and anither, and syne
Wild as the whisky up cam’ her nature.
The rod that struck water frae the rock in the desert
Was naething to the life that sprang oot o’ her;
The dowie auld soul was twinklin’ and fizzin’ wi’ fire;
You never saw ocht sae souple and kir.
Like a sackful 0’ monkeys she was, and her lauchin’
Loupit up whiles to incredible heights;
Wi’ ane owre the eight her temper changed and her tongue
Flew juist as the forkt lichtnin’ skites.
The heich skeich auld cat was fair in her element;
Wanton as a whirlwind, and shairly better that way
Than a’ crippen thegither wi’ laneliness and cauld
Like a foretaste 0’ the graveyaird clay.
Some folk nae doot’ll condemn gie’in’ a guid spree
To the puir dune body and raither she endit her days
Like some auld tashed copy o’ the Bible yin sees
On a street book-barrow’s tipenny trays.
A’ I ken is weel-fed and weel-put-on though they be
Ninety per cent 0’ respectable folk never hae
As muckle life in their creeshy carcases frae beginnin’ to end
As kythed in that wild auld carline that day!
