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Cramond
A
canty neuk whaur Almond joins the Forth.
Ye daunder doun the brae
Wi’
views o’ Fife’s green “Kingdom” to the north
Ayont the wee bit bay
Whaur
Cramond Island rises frae the sand,
Its
“haufway” causey raxin oot frae land.
Amang
the tombs the auld Kirk seems to hide
Wi elms abune its heid.
The
white-washed biggins by the water-side
Are crouned wi’ tiles o’ reid,
Whaur
Charon, yachtin-capped (his fee saxpenny)
Will
oar ye, no’ to Hades, but Dalmenny.
The
Kirk, the Inn, the Ferry - a’ historic,
But lang afore their day
They
spak a lingo here that wasna Doric:
Professor bodies say
That
ance the Romans had a muckle fort,
And
diggin for its founds is a’ their sport.
Noo
leggy lads and lassies steer their Hornets
Aboot the narrow reach
While
weans frae Pilton sook their ice-cream cornets
Or picnic on the beach
And
jos, stravaigin on the esplanade,
Can
view the gasworks through the gatherin shade.
But
still the sea-birds pipe their oorie cries
Athort the Lothians mud
And
still the sunset pents the evenin skies
Wi’ palette maist gane wud
And
aye its colours fade afore the een
As
gloamin casts its glamerie on the scene.
Douglas Fraser
1963
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