Part 5

Ootside me lies—and mair than that, For I stand still for forces which Were subjugated to mak’ way For England’s poo’er, and to enrich The kinds o’ English, and o’ Scots, The least congenial to my thoughts.

Hauf his soul a Scot maun use Indulgin’ in illusions, And hauf in gettin’ rid o’ them And comin’ to conclusions Wi’ the demoralisin’ dearth O’ onything worth while on Earth....

I’m weary o’ the rose as o’ my brain, And for a deeper knowledge I am fain Than frae this noddin’ object I can gain.

Beauty is a’e thing, but it tines anither (For, fegs, they never can be f’und thegither), And ’twixt the twa it’s no’ for me to swither.

As frae the grun’ sae thocht frae men springs oot, A ferlie that tells little o’ its source, I doot, And has nae vera fundamental root.

And cauld agen my hert are laid The words o’ Plato when he said, “God o’ geometry is made.”

Frae my ain mind I fa’ away, That never yet was feared to say What turned the souls o’ men to clay,

Nor cared gin truth frae me ootsprung In ne’er a leed o’ ony tongue That ever in a heid was hung.

I ken hoo much oor life is fated Aince its first cell is animated, The fount frae which the flesh is jetted.

I ken hoo lourd the body lies Upon the spirit when it flies And fain abune its stars ’ud rise.

And see I noo a great wheel move, And a’ the notions that I love Drap into stented groove and groove?

It maitters not my mind the day, Nocht maitters that I strive to dae, —For the wheel moves on in its ain way.

I sall be moved as it decides To look at Life frae ither sides; Rejoice, rebel, its turn abides.

And as I see the great wheel spin There flees a licht frae’t lang and thin That Earth is like a snaw-ba’ in.

(To the uncanny thocht I clutch —The nature o’ man’s soul is such That it can ne’er wi’ life tine touch.

Man’s mind is in God’s image made, And in its wildest dreams arrayed In pairt o’ Truth is still displayed.

Then suddenly I see as weel As me spun roon’ within the wheel, The helpless forms o’ God and Deil.

And on a birlin’ edge I see Wee Scotland squattin’ like a flea, And dizzy wi’ the speed, and me!)

I’ve often thrawn the warld frae me, Into the Pool o’ Space, to see The Circles o’ Infinity.

Or like a flat stane gar’d it skite, A Morse code message writ in licht That yet I couldna read aricht

The skippin’ sparks, the ripples, rit Like skritches o’ a grain o’ grit ’Neth Juggernaut in which I sit.

Twenty-six thoosand years it tak’s Afore a’e single roond it mak’s, And syne it melts as it were wax.

The Phœnix guise ’tll rise in syne Is mair than Euclid or Einstein Can dream o’ or’s in dreams o’ mine.

Upon the huge circumference are As neebor points the Heavenly War That dung doun Lucifer sae far,

And that upheaval in which I Sodgered ’neth the Grecian sky And in Italy and Marseilles,

And there isna room for men Wha the haill o’ history ken To pit a pin twixt then and then.

Whaur are Bannockburn and Flodden? —O’ a’e grain like facets hod’n, Little wars (twixt that which God in

Focht and won, and that which He Took baith sides in hopelessly), Less than God or I can see.

By whatna cry o’ mine oottopped Sall be a’ men ha’e sung and hoped When to a’e note they’re telescoped?

And Jesus and a nameless ape Collide and share the selfsame shape That nocht terrestrial can escape?

But less than this nae man need try. He’d better be content to eye The wheel in silence whirlin’ by.

Nae verse is worth a ha’et until It can join issue wi’ the Will That raised the Wheel and spins it still,

But a’ the music that mankind ’S made yet is to the Earth confined, Poo’erless to reach the general mind,

Poo’erless to reach the neist star e’en, That as a pairt o’ts sel’ is seen, And only men can tell between.

Yet I exult oor sang has yet To grow wings that’ll cairry it Ayont its native speck o’ grit,

And I exult to find in me The thocht that this can ever be, A hope still for humanity.

For gin the sun and mune at last Are as a neebor’s lintel passed, The wheel’ll tine its stature fast,

And birl in time inside oor heids Till we can thraw oot conscious gleids That draw an answer to oor needs,

Or if nae answer still we find Brichten till a’ thing is defined In the huge licht-beams o’ oor kind,

And if we still can find nae trace Ahint the Wheel o’ ony Face, There’ll be a glory in the place,

And we may aiblins swing content Upon the wheel in which we’re pent In adequate enlightenment.

Nae ither thocht can mitigate The horror o’ the endless Fate A’thing ’s whirled in predestinate.

O whiles I’d fain be blin’ to it, As men wha through the ages sit, And never move frae aff the bit,

Wha hear a Burns or Shakespeare sing, Yet still their ain bit jingles string, As they were worth the fashioning.

Whatever Scotland is to me, Be it aye pairt o’ a’ men see O’ Earth and o’ Eternity

Wha winna hide their heids in’t till It seems the haill o’ Space to fill, As t’were an unsurmounted hill.

He canna Scotland see wha yet Canna see the Infinite, And Scotland in true scale to it.

Nor blame I muckle, wham atour Earth’s countries blaw, a pickle stour, To sort wha’s grains they ha’e nae poo’er.

E’en stars are seen thegither in A’e skime o’ licht as grey as tin Flyin’ on the wheel as t’were a pin.

Syne ither systems ray on ray Skinkle past in quick array While it is still the self-same day,

A’e day o’ a’ the million days Through which the soul o’ man can gaze Upon the wheel’s incessant blaze,

Upon the wheel’s incessant blaze As it were on a single place That twinklin’ filled the howe o’ space.

A’e point is a’ that it can be, I wis nae man ’ll ever see The rest o’ the rotundity.

Impersonality sall blaw Through me as ’twere a bluffert o’ snaw To scour me o’ my sense o’ awe,

A bluffert o’ snaw, the licht that flees Within the Wheel, and Freedom gi’es Frae Dust and Daith and a’ Disease,

—The drumlie doom that only weighs On them wha ha’ena seen their place Yet in creation’s lichtnin’ race,

In the movement that includes As a tide’s resistless floods A’ their movements and their moods,—

Until disinterested we, O’ a’ oor auld delusions free, Lowe in the wheel’s serenity

As conscious items in the licht, And keen to keep it clear and bricht In which the haill machine is dight,

The licht nae man has ever seen Till he has felt that he’s been gi’en The stars themsels insteed o’ een,

And often wi’ the sun has glowered At the white mune until it cowered, As when by new thocht auld’s o’erpowered.

Oor universe is like an e’e Turned in, man’s benmaist hert to see, And swamped in subjectivity.

But whether it can use its sicht To bring what lies withoot to licht To answer’s still ayont my micht.

But when that inturned look has brocht To licht what still in vain it’s socht Ootward maun be the bent o’ thocht.

And organs may develop syne Responsive to the need divine O’ single-minded humankin’.

The function, as it seems to me, O’ Poetry is to bring to be At lang, lang last that unity....

But wae’s me on the weary wheel! Higgledy-piggledy in’t we reel, And little it cares hoo we may feel.

Twenty-six thoosand years ’tll tak’ For it to threid the Zodiac —A single roond o’ the wheel to mak’!

Lately it turned—I saw mysel’ In sic a company doomed to mell. I micht ha’e been in Dante’s Hell.

It shows hoo little the best o’ men E’en o’ themsels at times can ken, —I sune saw _that_ when I gaed ben.

The lesser wheel within the big That moves as merry as a grig, Wi’ mankind in its whirligig

And hasna turned a’e circle yet Tho’ as it turns we slide in it, And needs maun tak’ the place we get,

I felt it turn, and syne I saw John Knox and Clavers in my raw, And Mary Queen o’ Scots ana’,

And Rabbie Burns and Weelum Wallace, And Carlyle lookin’ unco gallus, And Harry Lauder (to enthrall us).

And as I looked I saw them a’, A’ the Scots baith big and sma’, That e’er the braith o’ life did draw.

“Mercy o’ Gode, I canna thole Wi’ sic an orra mob to roll.” —“_Wheesht! It’s for the guid o’ your soul._”

“_But what’s the meanin’, what’s the sense?_” —“_Men shift but by experience. ’Twixt Scots there is nae difference._

_They canna learn, sae canna move, But stick for aye to their auld groove —The only race in History who’ve_

_Bidden in the same category Frae stert to present o’ their story, And deem their ignorance their glory._

_The mair they differ, mair the same. The wheel can whummle a’ but them, —They ca’ their obstinacy ‘Hame,’_

_And ‘Puir Auld Scotland’ bleat wi’ pride, And wi’ their minds made up to bide A thorn in a’ the wide world’s side._

_There ha’e been Scots wha ha’e ha’en thochts, They’re strewn through maist o’ the various lots —Sic traitors are nae langer Scots!_”

“But in this huge ineducable Heterogeneous hotch and rabble, Why am _I_ condemned to squabble?”

“_A Scottish poet maun assume The burden o’ his people’s doom, And dee to brak’ their livin’ tomb._

_Mony ha’e tried, but a’ ha’e failed. Their sacrifice has nocht availed. Upon the thistle they’re impaled._

_You maun choose but gin ye’d see Anither category ye Maun tine your nationality._”

And I look at a’ the random Band the wheel leaves whaur it fand ’em. “Auch, to Hell, I’ll tak’ it to avizandum.” ...

O wae’s me on the weary wheel, And fain I’d understand them!

And blessin’ on the weary wheel Whaurever it may land them!...

But aince Jean kens what I’ve been through The nicht, I dinna doot it, She’ll ope her airms in welcome true, And clack nae mair aboot it....

* * * * *

The stars like thistle’s roses floo’er The sterile growth o’ Space ootour, That clad in bitter blasts spreids oot Frae me, the sustenance o’ its root.

O fain I’d keep my hert entire, Fain hain the licht o’ my desire, But ech! the shinin’ streams ascend, And leave me empty at the end.

For aince it’s toomed my hert and brain, The thistle needs maun fa’ again. —But a’ its growth ’ll never fill The hole it’s turned my life intill!...

Yet ha’e I Silence left, the croon o’ a’.

No’ her, wha on the hills langsyne I saw Liftin’ a foreheid o’ perpetual snaw.

No’ her, wha in the how-dumb-deid o’ nicht Kyths, like Eternity in Time’s despite.

No’ her, withooten shape, wha’s name is Daith, No’ Him, unkennable abies to faith

—God whom, gin e’er He saw a man, ’ud be E’en mair dumfooner’d at the sicht than he.

—But Him, whom nocht in man or Deity, Or Daith or Dreid or Laneliness can touch, _Wha’s deed owre often and has seen owre much_.

O I ha’e Silence left,

—“And weel ye micht,” Sae Jean’ll say, “efter sic a nicht!”

THE END.

FOOTNOTES

[1] From the Russian of Alexander Blok.

[2] Freely adapted from the Russian of Alexander Blok.

[3] From the Belgian poet, George Ramaekers.

[4] Adapted from the Russian of Zinaida Hippius.

[5] Suggested by the German of Else Lasker-Schüler.

[6] Suggested by the French of Edmond Rocher.

[7] Tragical crack (Dostoevski’s term).

[8] The line which precedes these in Mallarmé’s poem is “Aimai-je un rêve?” and Wilfrid Thorley translates the passage thus:—

“Loved I Love’s counterfeit? My doubts, begotten of the long night’s heat, Dislimn the woodland till my triumph shows As the flawed shadow of a frustrate rose.”

[9] _The General Strike (May 1926)._

[10] God-bearers.

[11] The All-Man or Pan-Human.

[12] Hermann Melville.

[13] Dostoevski.

[14] Quoted from Robert Buchanan.

[15] Dostoevski.

[16] Wicksteed’s translation of Dante’s Italian (Paradiso, canto xxxiii. 85-90) is as follows: “Within its depths I saw ingathered, bound by love in one volume, the scattered leaves of all the universe; substance and accidents and their relations, as though together fused, after such fashion that what I tell of is one simple flame.”

GLOSSARY.

_Abaw_—abash, appal.

_Abies_—except.

_Abordage_—the act of getting on board.

_Aft’rins_—the remainder, off-scourings.

_Agley_—off the right line, wrong.

_Ahint_—behind.

_Aiblins_—perhaps.

_Aidle_—foul slop.

_Aiker_—motion, or break, made in water by fish swimming rapidly.

_Airgh_—lack, or what anything requires to bring it up to the level.

_Airts_—directions.

_Alist_—_to come alist_; to recover from faintness or decay.

_Aroint_—clear away.

_Arrears_—goes backward.

_Atour_—out from.

_Aucht-fit_—eight-foot.

_Aumrie_—cupboard.

_Awn_ (_to_)—to own.

_Avizandum_—to defer decision.

_Back-hauf_ (_to be worn to_)—practically worn out.

_Backlands_—Glasgow slum tenements.

_Baggit_—enceinte.

_Bairn-time_—a woman’s breeding-time.

_Barkin’ and fleein’_—on the verge of ruin.

_Barley bree_—whisky.

_Barrowsteel_ (_to tak’ my_)—to co-operate.

_Ba’s_—balls.

_Bauch_—sorry.

_Bawaw_—an oblique look of contempt or scorn.

_Beanswaup_—the hull of a bean, anything of no value.

_Beddiness_—silly importunacy.

_Beeks_—shows.

_Belly-thraw_—colic.

_Belth_—sudden swirl.

_Ben_ (_to gang_)—to go in.

_Benmaist_—inmost.

_Biel_—shelter.

_Bien_—complacent.

_Blash_—sudden onset.

_Blate_—bashful.

_Blebs_—drops.

_Blethers_—nonsense.

_Blinnin’ stew_—storm through which impossible to see.

_Blinterin’_—gleaming.

_Blottie O_—a school game.

_Bluffert_—squall.

_Bobby_—policeman.

“_Bood to_”—must.

_Boss_ (_of body_)—front.

_Bratts_—scum.

_Braw_—handsome.

_Breenge_—burst.

_Brough_—ring (round moon).

_Buddies_—folks.

_Buff nor stye_—one thing or another.

_Buik_—trunk (of body).

_Bursten kirn_—difficult harvest.

_Buss_—bush.

_Cairn_—pile.

_Camsteerie_—perverse, unmanageable.

_Cappilow_ (_to_)—outdistance.

_Carline_—old woman, witch.

_Cavaburd_—dense snowstorm.

_Chafts_—chops.

_Cheatrie_—deceit, fraud.

_Chitterin’_—trembling violently, shivering.

_Chowed_—chewed.

_Chowl_ (_to_)—twist, distort.

_Chuns_—sprouts or germs.

_Claft_—shrunken.

_Claith_—cloth.

_Claught_ (_to_)—to grab at.

_Cleg_—gad-fly.

_Cleiks_—the merest adumbration.

_Clints_—cliffs.

_Clyre_—tumour, gland.

_Clytach_—balderdash.

_Cod_—pillow.

_Come-doon_—degradation.

_Connached_—abused, spoiled.

_Coom_—comb.

_Coonter_—counter.

_Corbaudie comes in_—that is the obstacle.

_Cordage_—tackling of a ship.

_Corneigh_—enough (_lit._ cœur ennuyé, internally disquieted).

_Cottons_—cottar houses.

_Coupin’_—overturning, emptying.

_Courage-bag_—scrotum.

_Couthie_—comfortable.

_Coutribat_—struggle.

_Cree_ (_legs wi’_)—not safe to meddle with.

_Creel_—in a state of mental excitement or confusion or physical agony.

_Crockats up_—on (one’s) dignity.

_Cross-brath’d_—braided.

_Cross-tap_—mizzen-mast.

_Crottle_—crumble away.

_Cuckold_—hoodwinked, diddled.

_Cude_—barrel.

_Cull_—testicle.

_Cullage_—genitals.

_Dander_—temper.

_Datchie_—sly, secret.

_Daunton_—overawe.

_Deef_—deaf, unimpressionable.

_Deemless_—countless.

_Derf_—taciturn, cruel.

_Dern_—hide.

_Ding_—bang down.

_Doited_—mad.

_Donnert_—dazed, stupefied.

_Dottlin’_—maundering.

_Doup_—backside.

_Dour_—intractable.

_Dowf_—hollow, gloomy, inert.

_Dowless_—imponderable.

_Dowse_—quench.

_Dozent_—stupid.

_Drobs_—falls like hail.

_Drookit_—soaked.

_Drumlie_—troubled, discoloured.

_Dumb-deid_—midnight.

_Dwamin’_—overpowering.

_Dwinin’_—dwindling.

_Eel-ark_—breeding ground for eels.

_Eemis_—ill-poised.

_Een_—eyes.

_Eident_—busy.

_Eisenin’_—lustful.

_Elbuck_—elbow.

_Ettle_—aspire.

_Faburdun_—faux bourdon.

_Fair_—completely.

_Fanerels_—accessories.

_Fank o’ tows_—coil of ropes.

_Fankles_—becomes clumsy.

_Fantice_—whimsicality.

_Farles_—filaments of ash.

_Fash_—trouble.

_Feck_—majority.

_Fecklessly_—impotently.

_Ferlies_—wonders.

_Fey_—fated.

_Fidge_—move.

_Figuration_—harmony.

_File_—defile.

_Flauchter_—flutters.

_Flaught_—abased.

_Flech_—flea.

_Fleg_—frighten.

_Flet_—flit.

_Forfochen_—completely tired out.

_Forgether_—meet.

_Fork-in-the-wa’_—means of diverting share of labour pains to husband.

_Fou’_—drunk.

_Foudrie_—lightning.

_Fousome_—disgusting.

_Fratt_—fretwork.

_Fraucht_—cargo.

_Freaths_—plumes of foam or froth.

_Fremt_—friendless, isolated.

_Foziest_—most stupid.

_Fullyery_—(_lit._) foliage.

_Gaadies_—bloomers, howlers, gaffes.

_Gaff_—hook for fish.

_Galliard_—rapid dance.

_Gallus_—reckless.

_Gammons_—feet.

_Gangrel_—wanderer.

_Ganien_—rodomontade.

_Gantin’_—yawning.

_Gantrees_—planks for putting barrel on.

_Gausty_—ghastly, ascetic.

_Gaw_ (_to have a_)—to have a catch upon.

_Gealed_—congealed.

_Geg_—trick, deception.

_Gell_—_on the gell_, on the go.

_Gemmell_—double harmony.

_Get_—bastard.

_Gey_—very.

_Geylies_—very much.

_Gill-ha’_—pub of all weathers, hostelry of life.

_Gird_—hoop.

_Glaur_—mud.

_Gleg_—eager.

_Gleids_—sparks.

_Glisk_—gleam, glance.

_Glit_—slime.

_Gloffs_—darknesses appearing denser than other parts of atmosphere.

_Glower_—gaze at.

_Goam_—gaze stupidly at.

_Gorded_—frosted.

_Goustrous_—frightful.

_Gowk-storm_—storm of short duration (sub-sense of foolish fuss).

_Gowls_—hollows, opposite of gloffs.

_Gree_ (_to bear off_)—carry off the palm.

_Grieshuckle_—embers.

_Grue_—revulsion.

_Grugous_—ugly.

_Gruntle_—pig’s nose.

_Gurly_—savage.

_Guts_—bowels.

_Gy_—spectacle.

_Haggis_—_unknown_.

_Hain_—preserve.

_Hair_ (_kaimed to lift_)—on the go.

_Hairst_—harvest.

_Happit_—covered.

_Harns_—brains.

_Harth_—lean.

_Hauflins_—adolescent boys.

_Haw_—hollow.

_Heich-skeich_—irresponsible.

_Hod’n_—hidden.

_Howd_—shorn down.

_Howe_—hollow.

_How-dumb-deid_—midnight.

_Howff_—public-house.

_Hwll_—ululation.

_Ilka_—every.

_Ingangs_—intestines.

_Ingles_—hearths.

_Inklins_—intuitions.

_Jag_—prick.

_Jalouse_—guess.

_Jaup_—splash.

_Jizzen_—child-bed, _lit._ in the straw.

_Jouk_—dodge.

_Kaa_—drive.

_Kaim_—comb.

_Keethins_—circles betraying fish’s movements.

_Kelter_—waggle.

_Keltie_—bumper.

_Kilted_ (_in a tippit_)—hung in a noose.

_Kink_ (_to_)—bend or twist.

_Kirk or mill_ (_to mak’ a_)—to do the best one can.

_Kist_—chest, breast.

_Kittle_ (_adj._)—ticklish.

_Kittle_ (_to_)—tickle.

_Knool_—pin or peg.

_Kyths_—appears, shows.

_Larochs_—foundations.

_Lave_—rest.

_Lear_—learning.

_Leed_—strain.

_Liddenin’_—going backwards and forwards.

_Lift_—sky.

_Little-bodies_—fairies.

_Lochan_—little loch.

_Loppert_—coagulated.

_Lourd_—heavy, over-charged, cloudy.

_Lowe_—flame.

_Lowse_—free, loosen.

_Lozen_—window.

_Lugs_—ears.

_Maikless_—matchless.

_Mapamound_—map of the world.

_Marrow_ (_winsome_)—a creditable limb.

_Mells_—mixes.

_Mirlygoes_—dazzle.

_Mocage_—banter, irony, contempt.

_Mochiness_—closeness.

_Moniplies_—intestines.

_Moosewob_—spider’s web.

_Muckle_—big.

_Muckle Toon_ (_p. 17_)—Langholm in Dumfriesshire.

_Mum_—silent.

_Munkie_—rope with noose at end.

_Munks_—swings away.

_Mutchkin_—liquor measure, half-bottle.

_Nae mowse_—perilous.

_Natheless_—nevertheless.

_Natter_—rant.

_Neist_—next.

_Nesh_—full of awareness.

_Nocht_—nothing.

_Oorie_—weird.

_Ootby_—outside.

_Ootcuissen_—outcast.

_Ootrie_—_outré_.

_Orra_—not up to much.

_Peepy-show_—cinema.

_Peerie_—spinning-top.

_Penny wheep_—small ale.

_Pickle_—small quantity.

_Pirn_—reel.

_Plumm_—deep pool.

_Pokiness_—congestion.

_Prick-sang_—compositions.

_Quean_—lass, woman.

_Quenry_—reminiscences of dealings with women.

_Raff_ (_of rain_)—a few streaks of rain.

_Ragments_—odds and ends.

_Ramel_—branches.

_Ratt-rime_—incantations for killing rats.

_Rax_—strain.

_Recoll_—reminiscences.

_Reishlin’_—rustling.

_Reistit_—dried.

_Ripe_—search.

_Rippit_—rumpus.

_Ripples_—diarrhœa.

_Rit_—scrape.

_Rived_—torn.

_Rooky_—misty.

_Root-hewn_—awkward.

_Rouk_—smoke, mist.

_Row’d_—rolled, wrapped up.

_Rowin’_—rolling.

_Rumple-fyke_—itch in anus.

_Runkled_—wrinkled.

_Samyn_—deck of ship.

_Sclatrie_—obscenities.

_Scount_—small example.

_Scouth_—scope.

_Scunner_ (_to_)—disgust.

_Scunnersome_—repulsive.

_Seilfu’_—blissful.

_Sentrices_—scaffolding.

_Ser’_—serve.

_Shasloch_—loose straw, litter.

_Sheckle_—wrist.

_Sibness_—relationship.

_Siccar_ (_to mak’_)—to make certain.

_Sinnen_—sinew.

_Shoon_—shoes.

_Skime_—gleam.

_Skinklan’_—shining, twinkling.

_Skirl-i’-the-pan_—fried oatmeal.

_Slorp_—lap up, slobber over.

_Slounge_—sharp fall.

_Sonsy_—contented.

_Spalin’_—burning away.

_Spiel_—climb.

_Spier_—ask.

_Splairgin’_—spluttering.

_Stang_—paroxysm.

_Sta’-tree_—pole for tethering cattle to.

_Steekin’_—shutting.

_Stegh_—glut.

_Stented_—appointed.

_Stertle-a-stobie_—exhalations.

_Stour_—dust.

_Stramash_—rumpus.

_Stramulyert_—panic-stricken.

_Strawns_—strings or chains.

_Swack_—active, supple.

_Swaw_—ripple.

_Swippert_—lively.

_Swith wi’ virr_—vehement.

_Swither_—hesitate.

_Syne_—thereafter.

_Taigled_—entangled.

_Tapsalteerie_—topsy-turvy.

_Thieveless_—impotent.

_Thorter-ills_—paralytic seizures.

_Thow_—thaw.

_Thowless_—impotent.

_Thrang_—busy.

_Thring_—shrug.

_Toom (to)_—empty.

_Toories_—pom-poms.

_Twaesome_—the two of them.

_Tyauve_ (_to_)—struggle.

_Ugsome_—ugly, horrid.

_Ullage_—deficiency in contents of barrel.

_Unco_—very.

_Unkennable_—unknowledgable.

_Vennel_—lane, narrow street.

_Vieve_—vivid.

_Wab_—web.

_Wae_—woeful.

_Waesome_—woeful.

_Waesucks_—alas.

_Wanchancy_—unfortunate.

_Waun’ert_—confused.

_Waur_—worse.

_Weird_—fate.

_Weirdless_—worthless.

_Wheengin’_—complaining.

_Wheesht_—hush.

_Whummle_—overturn.

_Widdifow_—perverse.

_Windlestrae_—straw.

_Wizened_—shrunk.

_Worm-i’-the-cheek_—toothache.

_Wuppit_—winding, wound round.

_Yabblin’_—gabbling.

_Yank_—throw.

_Ygdrasil_—(Celtic) Tree of Life.

_Printed in Great Britain by_ WILLIAM BLACKWOOD & SONS LTD.