Mainsails doon, masts asunder

Dey kent l’inconnu de Limoise
owerweel i da Dale o Waas
but here in big Islesburgh
dey wir nae pipes ta skirl. Hallelujah!

Fae aa aerts dey cam ta plick
an pluck dir fower dooble stringed
roond bellied, slender necked
bundles o musical joy.

Tuned laek a fiddle sans da owertones
o tortured cat at sent me howlin fur da hills
dey super-trouped aa da wye fae Greenland
mirriment tae douse Venetian harmonies

turned mi camino oscuro tae sole nostro.
Wha widna play dis haund until dir fingirs bled?
Birl da bus tae whitivvir mead du fancies – wave
da wand at canna help but faa anunder da spell
o da Shetland Mandolin Band.

Christie Williamson