Starvation

by James Sinclair

A’ll paek oot dee een
an cloor trowe dee leeg
I can feel me belly rumble

I tink A’m losin me mind. Da ony wye
ta tak me towts fae starvation an cowld,
is ta mak da finest denner itill me hied.
An whit denners A’m hed, graet plates o maet,
fried haddocks an livers wi floury taaties,
plate eftir plate o reestit mutton tattie soup
fresh baked bannocks clerted in kirn butter,
lumps o fried saucermaet an deukes eegs,
poorin da fat oot da pan ower da leftower tatties,
clooty dumplins foo o raisins an spice an cinnamon,
hame med hufsi washed doon wi cup eftir cup o sugary tae.

An dan me towts ’ll tak a darker turn,
da boadies itil da howld, prime frozen an maet apo dir banes.
Da lang pig, dey say hit tastes o saat pork.
Could we raelly hae a feed aff o dem? A roastit leeg
or a braised rack o ribs, kidneys, liver an heart.