I am happy to have received more poetry by Scottish poet John R. Yaws. Many readers have asked to read more of his Traveler's Tales. John has generously obliged. - poetheart 07/04/01
Aye, I’ve a bit to say mysel’, the weary Traveler said-
While I’ve no gold, I do intend to pay for meal an’ bed.
An’, aye, I’ve tales o’ other lands, an’ while yon fire does bleeze,
I’ll fill yer ‘eads wi’ sights an’ sounds fra far beyond the seas.
But wait, I’d take me greatcoat off, aye, an’ me ‘at an’ scarf-
No thankee, but I’ll keep me blade! Nae, lad, twould be a larf.
Why, lad, I be a fightin’ man! Ye feign wou’ pull me fangs?
A sojer wi’ out weepons? Why, tha’ wou’ be quite strange.
I ken the Duke o’ Cumberland! A scurvy English ‘ound!
An’ Bonaparte? I ken ‘im, too! ‘is blunders di’ astound.
An’ Wallace? Faith! Now there’s a man, to raise me Scottish pride!
I knowed ‘im well, an’ true Scots wept the day wha’ William died.
An’ Mary? ‘er of Stuart get? The poor ill-fated lass-
Di’ wane in yonder dungeon dank, because o’ sister ‘Bess.
An’ Cromwell? Aye, I seen the knave, a sheddin’ Scottish blood
An’ murderin’ all ‘er Loyalists, wha’ for ‘er freedom stood.
I served wi’ Bonnie Charlie, ‘im wi’ the white cockade!
An’ ‘ad there been a chance to win, in Scotland I’d a stayed...
I wi’ the Wild Geese scattered to foreign climes and lan’s-
An’ wept to ‘ear the way they’d stopped the gatherin’ o’ the clans.
Ah, lad, the hour is growin’ late, Aye, I am growin’ old...
I need to get a bit of rest, ere I go back in the cold.
Why, thankee kindly, stop I will, of courtesy avail-
Next time me path shou’ wend this way, I’ll spin a Traveler’s Tale.
by John R. Yaws
Other poetry by John