Legends
M6
The North
Scotland
where it rains a’ the time
where the midges swarm
and the tics wait in line;
where it’s never warm
and they eat their weans
while their favourite food’s
made of offal brains -
stuffed intestine skins.
And anither thing;
have ye heard the lies
that the Kelpies sing?
Have ye seen the size
o’that Nessie beast
when she breaks the waves
for a belly rub?
For the fame she craves?
Did ye ken the Scots
are a mongrel race
richt fae John o’Groats
doon tae Rabbie’s place?
And we ken nae wheesht
when it comes to peace
with our ain true folk
never mind the joke
that has kept us bound
to a far off rule.
Aye, an’ hoots! Ye ken,
get it up yer kilt,
are ye dancin’ hen?
a’ the booze we’ve spilt
as we celebrate
or try tae forget!
We were born for this
by a traitor’s kiss
and a bag of gold
but so long as we’re
covered by the Cloud
and the awful swarm
we’ll keep our foes at bay
and our welcome warm.
24/6/23
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Author:
FrasMac (
Offline) - Published: July 19th, 2026 03:13
- Comment from author about the poem: Poem about Scotland, my homeland. Happy to help with translations if required.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 15
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, ms.divine
Offline)
Comments2
FrasMac, your poem carries that rare mix of humour, grit, and affection that only someone speaking from inside a place can manage; the rain, the midges, the monsters, the politics, the stubbornness — all of it becomes a kind of living folklore in your hands, and beneath the jokes there’s a genuine warmth for a country that’s rough, loud, myth‑heavy, and still fiercely welcoming, which is what gives Legends their staying power. 🙏🕊️
Love this poem with its dialect in place and the details of custom and sites as well as history. It rolls off the tongue and is musical as the pipes. Loved it a fave
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