BuiltWithNOF

 

inspired gossip

Union Street

JUSTICE NEUK: THE CASTLEGATE, AIBERDEEN

Up the steep brae frae herbor's snawy gulls,
Solicitors flap by like hoodie craas,
Past biggins moored like three great granite hulls.
Toon Cooncil, Sheriff Coort, dour Tolbooth waas.

The auncient merket cross, squats green as dulse,
A unicorn rears twa hooves frae its croon,
A steen's throw frae the steerie burgh's pulse,
As if it socht tae flee the mapamoun.

Ceres luiks doon on stoorie traffic jams,
By-passin bank, howf, bookie, chaip-john shops,
Fowk nip inbye fur pints or swift hett drams,
Or race green men tae wyte in glaiss bus-stops,
Near the Toon's Hoose, far ceevic scrolls are keepit,
An public seats, far drooths sit, hudderie-heidit.

Here, Byron coorted quines. Here, dignatories
Newsed, while Greyfriars coonted their Hail Maries.
Here, rikk o burnin witches jyned wi fish,
Sea yoams, the fyachie guff o dryin pish
Frae flechy craiturs in a Tolbooth cell,
Wytin fur sentencin bi Buik an Bell.
The Maiden, Aiberdeen's ain femme fatale
Launched mony a sowl intae Damnation's faul.
Here, Aiberdonians cheered an clapped an gowped
As at a raip's eyn some puir divil lowped.

The Tolbooth's closed, its sentence passed langsyne,
A bygaen age o manacle an chyne,
O birsslit witch, scauld's bridle, nerra slit,
O windae, far a jyled man micht sit,
Anely his thochts allowed tae wanner free,
Thinkin on foo he tint his liberty.

A lion hunkers doon abune a shield,
Far Scottish justice bides in thorny bield,
Here, ne'er dae weels an lassies o ill fame,
Hing roon the Sheriff Coort, their secunt hame,
Sweir, sook their haun-rowed fags an hodge aboot,
Clype aboot far some limmer's stashed his loot.

Wee bairns in buggies, pushed bi hard-faced mas
Wyte in the cauld tae greet drug-pushin das.
At chap o twa, the great doors swing ajee,
Admit the coort an the justiciary.
In the High Coort, twa bobbies, handcuffed, staun
On either side o catched-reid-haundit-man,
In his best suit, ill-suited tae impress
A jury. Murder's best in a plain dress.
Computers click an whirr aside a mace,
Tradition pitten on a modern face,
Fite bow tie an cravat, grey wig, black goun
Gie pleas in his defence afore the Croun.
The murderer gets ten year. Oot in five.
Unlike his victim, gled to be alive.
His bidie-in turns fiter than the snaa
Fin sentenced, tae the cells he's led awa.
Aneth saft lowse o lamps in braisse an glaiss
The scales o justice balance, mair or less.

Debt, damages, divorce an custody
Fit can the guilty ain afford tae gie?
Fine or probation served fur thievery
Files wechtit doon wi lees an misery
Files fulled wi buggery an muggery
An twenty different kins o doon-toon thuggery
An aa discussed on carpets o rich burgundy
Aneth the soarin airms o a steen balcony.
Solicitors, in horny-gollach blaik
Black-winged, staun deep in argyment an claik.
'No fixed abode', wi drugs his lane defence,
Is fand a billet at the toon's expense.
Gaes 'ower the watter' fur incarceration,
Is wheeched awa fur speedy transportation.
King Dragon reigns... an ile-induced pollution
His price is heich: ryped hames an prostitution
A trail o connached lives, abused abusers
Fixed fix, far there's nae winners. Anely losers.

 Sheena Blackhall

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