The Seasons and Clipping Time

Auld Time keeps ever on the move
In constant and unchanging gear,
And nane can shift it oot its groove
As year succeeds the bygone year.

Grim winter sees the new come in
When skies are gloomy, cauld and grey,
But dormant life does soon begin
Respondin' to a langer day.

A few short weeks and skies are clear,
When glens and woodlands loodly ring
From songsters that unite to cheer
The advent of anither spring.

The plooman drives his team alang
And cattle lower near the gate,
The herd among his sheep kept thrang
Frae early dawn to gloamin' late.

But Spring is oft a treacherous time
Wi' baith extremes that mak' or mar,
To raise hill yowes to fettle prime
Or bring them doon to under par.

And Mairch misdeeds nane can assess
That sairly try hill lambin' yowes,
Wi' need increased and rations less
Frae bleached and barren benty knowes. (Course grass [CSD])

But April shooers transform the case
And herds wear a less haggard look,
And smiles spread ower his sonsey face
To see his lambs hae lots to sook.

Then May spreads ower its capet green,
And daisies sprinkle ower the swaird,
And rabbits venturesome are seen
To nibble at the tender braird.

And now we welcome leafy June
When Nature's forces a' compete,
And each bestow their choisest bloom
Perfection---to mak' mair complete.

July, the clippin' time for yowes,
When herds are oot at break o' day,
To kep them ere they leave the knowes,
Adoon the grassy glens to stray.

Then climbs his way up to the hicht
Wi' neebour herds to meet abune,
To start when clear enough the licht
To get his hirsel gethered in.

In time to see King Sol arise
And cool awee his sweated broo
And drink in perfect paradise,
In ecstasy that's ever new.

The balmy breeze his bosom thrills,
That's wafted ower the mairlan glen,
The sun frae yont the eastern hills
Breaks oot in splendour ower the ben.

New life awakens wi' the sun,
The lark already soars on high,
The clamour o' the whaups begun,
The plaintive plover's wailin' cry.

The townsfolk---women, weans and men---
Are poorer for the joys they miss,
For few o' them can ever ken
The rapture of a scene like this.

Up here, Dame Nature's voice is heard,
And speaks wi' nae uncertain tongue
That tells in every beast and bird
The instinct to protect their young.

The mither grouse feigns cripple wings---
Anither of Dame Nature's tricks,
To camouflage her late young things,
And draw attention frae her chicks.

The cute auld yowe skulks through the bog
And tries her best to leave the lave,
Her aim to baffle man and dog,
Determined her young lamb to save.

But, ah! her ruse is a' in vain
For collie is alert on watch
And weers her back in high disdain,
Protestin'ly to join the batch.

With her, it's nature at its best,
The pure affection of the dam
That for hersel' mak's nae protest
But dee, if need be, for her lamb.

When safely hoosed within the gates,
Am emptyness mak's its appeal,
And appetites that health creates
Get busy on the mornin' meal.

Then each seeks his accustomed seat
And ower a short refreshin' smoke
Are soon immersed in keen debate
Anent the present season's stock.

In brisk discussions, keen and deep,
In general they come to gree'
On weather spills that favoured sheep,
Or marred them, as the case micht be.

But precious time they daurna waste
For hungry lambs will bleat forlorn
And crave their mother's milk to taste
Before the hinmost fleece is shorn.

So lambs run off that stocksmen please,
And yowes noo thorough dry below,
The herds in clippin' dungarees
Get up the stream and start the show.

The crofter from his bare, lean brae
Attends to baist or rowe the o'o, (Flatten, beat ; roll ; wool [CSD])
For him a great red-letter day,
To help, if but the bags to shue. (Push [ie move around] [CSD])

'Tween bleatin' lambs and clink o' shears
Great splores are heard of hoary fame (Exploits, tales, jokes [CSD])
That's been rehearsed for years and years,
The tale, the teller, still the same.

But that their flavour nane detracts
When tell'd wi' vigour, vim and stress,
The pawky humour never lacks
Nor ever is enjoyed the less.

The new clipped yowe mak's frantic search
And kens her lamb by bleat and smell,
And reconciled they proodly mairch
Back to their hame far up the hill.

Then comes a halt, a needed spell,
To licht the pipe and sharp the shears,
And maybe some new jokes to tell
And better still, a cup that cheers.

Again, and yet again, the shears
Get dour to ca, wi' edges blunt,
The while judiciously appears
The welcome cup of lubricant.

Again refreshed, wi' best o' will
The music o' the shears goes on
Tae the last yowe loups off the stuil
When licht o' day has almost gone.

The clippin' time lang oors entails
But mainly is by a' enjoyed,
For pleesin' harmony prevails
Between employer and employed.

No union rule to them dictates
The measure of their workin' day,
Nor extra time at special rates,
Or weeks o' holidays with pay.

When gloamin's veil begins to fa'
They steer their tracklless coorse for hame
To start ere cocks begin to craw
To meet anither hirsel's claim.

This work belangin' to the hills
Complete ere August month comes roon,
While harvest preparation fills
The fermer's programme laigher doon.

For there the wavin' fields o' corn
Has changed frae green to golden hue,
And waits the reaper to be shorn
When stooks will decorate the view.

September paints the woodland braes
In Nature's colours and design,
Deservin' of a higher praise
Than can come from a pen like mine.

The harvest home and crops in shape
To shelter frae the winter frost,
The stacks secure 'neath thack and raip
That mony anxious oors hae cost.

At this time superstition tells
Of witches, sprites and warlocks seen,
Rehearsin' weid, unholy spells
For amorous youths at Hallowe'en.

At Christmas shows, where Smithfield leads,
Frae every airt come oot the best
To fight the battle of the breeds,
The season's last and vital test.

December winds the circuit clear,
Anither year is left behin',
And freens to mony near and dear
Nae mair will see a new come in.

And like the passin' of the year
Auld Time leaves none of us alone,
The auld give way, and young appear,
And still the busy world goes on.