I can’t let ‘Tartan Week’ go by without celebrating my heritage and culture. Today I’ve included a fun poem written by a lesser-known Scottish poet, Walter Wingate.
Unfortunately, while alive, very little of his poetry was published, and there were no publishing platforms in those days gone by to self-publish.
However, after his death, his talent was recognised, and a collection of his poetry was
published, and his words can live on.
‘The Sair Finger’ is about a child with a splinter in their finger. The Scots dialect I know is not easy to understand, but today, I make no apologies for using it in this post because this week is a week to honour all things Scottish.
The Sair Finger
You’ve hurt your finger? Puir wee man!
Your pinkie? Deary me!
Noo, juist you haud it that wey till
I get my specs and see!
My so it is, and there’s the skelf !
Noo, dinna greet nae mair!
See there, my needles gotten’t out!
I’m sure that wasna sair?
And noo, to make it hale the morn
Put on a wee bit saw
And tie a bonnie hankie roun’t
Noo, there nar in awa’!
Your finger sair ana’? Ye rogue
You’re only lettin on
Weel, weel, then see noo, there ye are
Row’d up the same as John!
Walter Wingate 15 April 1865 —1918
