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Alice, Daughter of Barabbas

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View attachment 1395169 A good, less scary appearance nevertheless does a lot to get them on the way more easily!:roto2nuse:
That makes me think of a poem by the great Scots poet, Hugh MacDiarmid:

Crowdieknowe,
(literally ‘porridge hillock’, i.e. a lumpy one, a name for a typical burial-ground in wilder parts of Scotland)

Oh to be at Crowdieknowe
When the last trumpet blaws,
An see the deid come loupin owre
The auld grey wa’s

Muckle men wi tousled beards,
I grat at as a bairn
‘ll scramble frae the croodit clay
Wi feck o swearin.

An glower at God an a’ his gang
O angels i the lift
- Thae trashy bleezin French-like folk
Wha gar’d them shift.

Fain the weemun-folk’ll seek
To mak them haud their row
- Fegs, God’s no blate gin he stirs up
The men o Crowdieknowe!


Eul's English version:

Oh to be at Crowdieknowe
When the last trumpet blows,
And see the dead come leaping over
The old grey walls

Mighty men with tousled beards,
I grizzled at as a bairn
Will scramble from the crowded clay
With a heck of swearing.

And glower at God and all his gang
Of angels in the sky,
Those trashy blazing French-like folk
Who’ve made them shift.

In vain the women-folk’ll seek
To make them stop their row.
Phew! God’s no wimp if he stirs up
The men of Crowdieknowe!
 
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