Seen on dreary foggy days,
Across the glens the haggis play.
On Tuesday hunts with guns and hound,
They follow tracks left in the ground,
For 3 legged haggis raid farm and field,
Stealing sheep and oatmeal. These pests found in burrows and digs,
Look a little like baby pigs!
I assure you they aren’t half as sweet,
But in Scotland they are great to eat!
Desperately trying to get caught up, this poem comes from The Untold Stories of Scotland.
I know today is meant for J, but I fell behind due to juggling hospital visits and I’m due to start a new job on Monday. Very up and down time so a little cheating on the challenge is necessary.
My best friend once told me haggis were three legged creatures. I am incredibly gullible but I am not that bad, yet I still wrote this rhyme.
This is my H poem for the A to Z challenge.
Across our land from East to west,
We built a great walled defense,
From the foreign who live beyond divide,
Of whom we do not speak their kind.
With thirst of blood and human flesh,
We stay behind our safety fence.
But when we cross, to our back it looms,
The wall becomes our grave and tomb.
This is my F poem for the A to Z challenge.
My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within. You may want to read a couple other poems in my challenge to get the gist.
This one comes from the story of Hadrian’s wall, and the fear of those that lurked beyond it. It’s hugely inspired by The wall in the game of thrones series and books, but it’s our wall and we had one first!!!
Where the devil comes to make his feast,
On cliffs that cut off to east,
His table stone and half a ruin,
In a shadow of a church on dune.
400 years or more have past,
He comes just once to break his fast,
To a spread of wine, prunes and figs,
And to his fiddle; a merry jig,
By the light of moon and a sky quite teal,
He takes his leave and ends his meal,
With nothing left but a stain of wine,
On the table where the devil dines.
This is my D poem for the A to Z challenge.
My A-Z is based on Northumberland, and the myths and monsters that lurk within.
When I was younger, there was a story of a stone table at Church point in Newbiggin, years of rumors labelled this as ‘The Devil’s Table, where if you went, ouji board in hand, you could make contact with the devil himself. Age made us wiser and we came to realise the table was in fact a memorial with weathered writing. However this little story has always stuck in my mind, and from it has sprouted this little rhyming tale.
My poems kind of lead onto one another so I do suggest you read the poem before it to get the gist.