Document 796
Dipper: 50 - The Auld Jenny Heron
Author(s): Dr James A Begg
Copyright holder(s):
Dr James A Begg
Audio transcription
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The Auld Jenny Heron
Silent an solitary, staunin sae still,
'Neath a mossy bank by the tail o the puil,
Hauf hid by the feathery fronds o a fern,
Watches an waits an auld Jenny Heron.
Wi her heid set low on her streikit breist,
She luiks fast asleep, or dozin at least,
But her bricht yella een are luikin aboot
For an eel or a puddock, or even a troot.
Wi her braw grey shawl roun her shouders happt,
She dreams o times whan her craw wis stappt
Fou o rainbow troot frae the rearin pond
O yon fishery ferm at the back o beyond.
'Twas no oot o greed, but mair oot o need,
Wi a hantle o steirin weans tae feed,
That she an her mate gaed aft tae this spot,
Till yae April mornin her guid-man wis shot
By some chiel wi a gun an nae mair sense -
- Whan aa that wis wantit - a wee wire fence
A fuit or sae heich, at the edge o the watter,
Wad hae stoppit the need for sic senseless slaughter.
For try as they micht their lang necks tae streitch,
The end o the rainbows'd be aye oot o reach
But sic is the wey o Man wi Nature,
Whan his ploys are threitened by some puir craitur;
He claims aa the warld as his ain dominion,
An rides ruch-shod ower ony opinion
That denies him the richt tae dae as he pleases,
An the 'Balance o Nature' can gae tae the Bleezes
That a Heron itsel, as ane o God's wonders
Micht juist hae a richt tae a share o the plunders,
Is no tae the likin o some tottie minds
That dwell in the realms of their maisters' behinds,
Whase answer tae aa thing things they cannae work oot
Is tae rax for the gun, tak guid aim an shoot.
- An fishermen tae maun shouder some blame
Whan they grudge the auld Heron a troot for its wame;
Their heids fou o nonsense an common hearsay
That a Heron eats ten pun o troot in a day!
If they'd juist haud a-wee at the back o thae birks,
An no breinge on throu like a couple o stirks,
Tae fley the auld burd, mak her bend at the knees,
Tak fricht an gae screichin up ower the trees;
But staun an tak tent o the wey she bides still,
Patient as Job by the edge o that puil,
Waitin for some unsuspectin wee treat
Tae linger ower lang forenent her big feet.
Stey still, haud a meenit, Auld Jenny's steirin,
Neck set like a spring, her neb ready for spearin,
She bous hersel forrit, her heid bendin low,
Then faster than lichtnin, a daith-dealin blow
An a puir wee bit beardie is gruppt like a vice,
Turnt roun heidfurst an gulped doun in a trice;
Gies her heid a wee shoogle, plumes wavin like hair,
Then luiks roun aboot - she's got room for some mair.
Her een lippen on something faur oot o her reach -
- Nou watch weel ye fishers, this auld yin can teach
Ye juist hou tae gang warily efter a fush,
Cannily, daintily, nae hint o a rush.
Wi her heid set weel forrit, her een niver stray
As she ever sae slowly creeps up on her prey,
Yae fuit at a time, nae ripple or splash,
She hovers a blink, then quick as a flash
Heid's in/oot the watter an twists tae reveal
The frichtsome deid-thraws o a muckle great eel
Wrappt ticht roun her neck like a hengman's noose!
- Auld Jenny's hauf-chucklt afore she breks loose,
Syne draps the big eel, then grups it again,
Pecks twa or three times, dauds its heid aff a stane,
It's tossit an turnt till she's got it juist richt
Then it's slid ower her thrapple, an doun oot o sicht
Whaur it rummles aboot for a while in her wame,
Till she's poukt aa her feathers - An flees awa hame.
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Dipper: 50 - The Auld Jenny Heron
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