Ile on Troubled Watter

Five years auld.
He caa'd me "Wee pudden"

I caa'd him ower,
Neived his wirds intil a ticht knot,
Knuckled wi' Biblical accuracy,
Richt intil his left ee.

It moved, a jeely knob
Aneth ma fist.

He grat like a burst main.
Efter, it wis blue, green — a stain
The colour o' scaled ile,
Sliddery as butter,
Spreadin ower his face.
Ile, on troubled watter.


Games

Last at the dell's a wee roguie,
Goodies gang tae heaven,
Baddies tae Hell.
The dice is loaded.
The game's a bogie.
Sic lang ledders!
Look oot fur the snakes!
Heids or tales,
Hogarth's Rake,
Or Pilgrim's Progress,
Strictly aff the cuff,
Cairds on the table
We're as pawns:
Fortune's Blind Man's buff.
Eetle ottle, I'm oot.