Scottish funeral traditions
In the name of brevity, simplicity, honor and love we provide this surface-level guide. By all means do your research, but if you need a concise set of tips, we’re here for you. Please email our chaplain if you need any support. |
SUPERSTITIONS AND ORIGINS
Foreshadowing of death ²
In Scotland, death is something that’s foretold. There are always supposed signs pointing to someone’s demise. Death is never a surprise, according to legend. There are a number of common symbols and images that present themselves to the dying, though these myths vary depending on the region in Scotland.
The most well-known death-messenger is similar to the grim reaper. This image is that of an old woman known as the Washer at the Ford. This story dates back to the 15th century. It claims that a washerwoman poses at the side of rivers or streams. She washes the stains from the clothes of those who fought and died in battle.
If one was to spot this washerwoman, death was on the horizon. While local customs created ways to trick this symbolic woman, it’s unknown whether it’s possible to escape death once the omen has been made.
To this day, there is a lot of folklore around symbols of death. Things like strange lights, an unexpected knock at the door, and ghostly images are very much a part of the modern-day culture in parts of Scotland.
Good death ²
Like in other parts of the world, there was a prevalent belief in Scotland about the importance of a “good” death. What exactly is a good death? For the ancient Celts, this was any death earned in combat or war. Honor and dignity were at the center of this culture, and to die in battle was something worthy of recognition.
A bad death would be any unexpected death that took place away from home. To die on a journey away was seen as undesirable. While most don’t choose how they die, this was still central to the Scottish view of death and dying.
Departure of the Soul ³
At the moment of death the windows were thrown open for the purpose of easing the departure of the soul. The window remained open only for an instant for fear the soul might return.
Mirrors in the house were either covered or had their faces turned to the wall and all clocks in the house were stopped. This is said to be done to prevent puzzling or misleading the ghost in its efforts to leave the house.
The 1641 Glasgow ‘deid bell’, now on display in Glasgow's People's Palace on Glasgow Green. Wikipedia
Ringing of the Death Bell
Death was a community event. The bell-ringer would stand at the town square, ring his bell, then announce the death of the deceased. This announcement served as an invitation for the entire community to attend a feast and funeral at the home of the deceased. In some cases the door of the home was painted black and decorated with white tear shapes.
Cleansing and Kistan
The women would prepare the deceased for burial - washing the body - which symbolized the purification of the soul. The body was then dressed in 'dead clothes' more commonly known as winding sheets…
Once completing the washing of the body the women would 'kistan' the body - that is lay the body in the coffin.
Flowers of the Forest
The Flowers of the Forest is a Scottish tune, a “lament” for the army of James IV, the flower of Scottish manhood, slain with their king on the field of Flodden in September 1513. The battle was ferocious and bloody - men were felled by artillery, arrows, pikes, bills and swords. Around 14,000 men died, including James IV, the last British king to die in battle.
The composition of this song began with a fragment of a very old ballad, and Mrs Patrick Cockburn of Ormiston drew on this fragment to write a full song. Then in the mid 18th century Miss Jane Elliot (1727-1805) reworked it to make a much finer piece of work.
Today, the lament is played at funerals of Scottish folk and dignitaries who have a Scottish connection. It is written with an incorporation of Scots language.
Most Scottish societies use the term “flowers of the forest” to refer to clansmen that have passed, as much to continue a tradition of thumbing our noses at the Sassenachs (the English) because our forebears used the Scots languages as an act of rebellion.
To learn about Scots language click here.
To learn more about the battle of Flodden click here.
To hear a wonderful rendition of the lament click here.
The Flowers of the Forest
I’ve heard the lilting, at the yowe-milking, Lasses a-lilting before dawn o’ day;
But now they are moaning on ilka green loaning;
The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.
As buchts, in the morning, nae blythe lads are scorning;
The lasses are lonely and dowie and wae.
Nae daffin’, nae gabbin’, but sighing and sobbing,
Ilk ane lifts her leglen, and hies her away.
In hairst, at the shearing, nae youths now are jeering,
The Bandsters are lyart, and runkled and grey. At fair or at preaching, nae wooing, nae fleeching,
The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.
At e’en, in the gloaming, nae swankies are roaming,
‘Bout stacks wi’ the lasses at bogle to play.
But ilk ane sits drearie, lamenting her dearie,
The Flowers of the Forest are a’ wede away.
Dule and wae for the order sent our lads to the Border;
The English, for ance, by guile wan the day:
The Flowers of the Forest, that foucht aye the foremost,
The prime o’ our land are cauld in the clay.
We’ll hae nae mair lilting, at the yowe-milking,
Women and bairns are dowie and wae.
Sighing and moaning, on ilka green loaning,
The Flowers of the Forest are all wede away.
For a description / transcription of the Scots language, please see 2022 July BuchananBanner, page 38
With thanks to Malcolm Buchanan (Clan Herald).
CELTIC FUNERAL TRADITIONS
Celebration of life ²
Despite any intimidating omens, death wasn’t something to be sad about. When someone died, this meant it was time to celebrate their life. Because life is only a temporary gift, it needs to be appreciated.
Much of the views on death and dying in Scotland revolve around celebration and happy memories. While outsiders might see this much cheerfulness after death as a sign of disrespect, it’s actually anything but.
Timing and involvement ¹
People in Scotland traditionally expect a funeral service to be arranged within one week of the person’s death.
Scottish wake ²
One of the most important parts of the Scottish funeral tradition is the wake, where the body is laid out for several days before the funeral. Watched by someone at all hours, to keep the spirit from falling to the Devil. Curtains or blinds were drawn until after the funeral.
This served a practical purpose: before modern medicine, it wasn’t always easy to know for certain that a body was truly dead. In Scotland, it was common to wait for signs of decomposition or physical presentations of death, which could take days to see.
Folklore says this is to prevent evil spirits from taking the soul from the body, but it also allows friends and family to travel from far to the funeral. During the wake, the family offers food and drink to guests who come to pay respects.
Neighbors would help, by bringing extra chairs for the watchers or extra peat to help heat the house throughout the "Dead Days."
For families that choose to keep their loved one’s body at the funeral home, the wake still is often held in the home, even without the deceased. This is still a chance for friends and family to offer support and partake in this custom.
Processional ²
After the wake, there is a processional to the funeral. This takes place on foot traditionally, and it still does in smaller towns today. Up to eight men carry the coffin on spokes, and this is a symbolic way for guests to share the burden of the casket.
The procession was usually solemn but it could also be wild. Due to excessive drinking at the feast by the men, unexpected events occurred. Sometimes the procession would lose the coffin or even get in fights with other funeral processions which were headed toward the same churchyard.
Rest stops were at places where 'cairns' were built for resting the coffin. At each of these stops, for resting, switching pall bearers, or sharing whisky, the men would throw a stone at the side of the road as a token. Even today one sees these heaps of stones by the roadside.
In the past, these professionals were followed by professional keeners. In modern days, these are likely to be bagpipers. Songs are sung in lament of the deceased, and it was common for people to cry. The procession ends at the church, where there is a traditional Christian funeral or memorial service.
Paying last respects ³
Adults and children alike filed past the coffin, touching the deceased's brow or breast, lest they be haunted by the corpse's spirit later. After all had paid their respects, the coffin was closed and eight women relatives would take the "First Lift." When the coffin was lifted up, the chairs on which it rested were carefully turned upside down for fear the ghost might be sitting on them. The coffin was carried through the house to the men waiting outside. The casket leaves the house, 'feet first' so that the soul cannot find its way back home.
Burial ¹
In ancient times, bodies were washed and wrapped in a special burial cloth. They would be buried into tombs or resting places, often with some of their personal objects.
In Scottish funerals the family usually takes part in the burial of the deceased, helping to lower the coffin into the grave (ie: it’s not left to the officiants). In addition, the funeral director will often offer earth from a container to mourners for them to throw into the grave to contribute to the burial process.
These ceremonies at the gravesite were exclusively for men. It wasn’t until the 1700s that women appeared at graveside burials.
Dredgy ³
Women followed the casket only to the entrance of the cemetery church gate or would stay behind at the house to look after the children and prepare the food for the after-funeral feast called a "Dredgy”.
Remembering
After the burial, the family goes to great lengths to remember their loved one’s spirit. Spiritualism plays a large role in Scottish culture, and it’s believed these ancestors still linger in family homes. It’s common to light a candle for a deceased loved one or to simply talk about them to keep these memories alive.
Purvy ¹
After a funeral service in Scotland, a funeral tea, which is also known as a ‘re-past’, or a ‘purvy’ is held. Usually food and drink is served and a toast is made to the deceased by someone close to them.
While these types of large celebrations are less common today, it’s still popular for the family to host friends and family for some type of lively event as part of the repast. This might be accompanied by Scottish funeral songs and prayers. Popular venues include hotel function rooms, pubs and social clubs.
The deceased family was responsible for providing a feast. If they could not afford the feast, an auction was held afterward, selling off the deceased assets in order to pay for the feast and funeral. The men and women would separate, the men go to the barn and feast, while the women would feast in the house. After feasting a ceremony would be held to commerate the deceased individual. Each person would have the opportunity to toast the deceased and his or her family and friends. ³
Dancing and celebration ²
After the formal wake period, it’s time for dancing and celebration. This was an opportunity to share the deceased person’s life, their story, and wonderful memories. This was a joyful occasion, and food and drink are plentiful.
There is a lot of traditional dancing, feasting, and fun for all. Though it might sound unusual when considering the family is in mourning, death is seen as a natural part of life. This was a way for everyone to come together and celebrate a life well-lived.
The funeral procession of Edward the Confessor to Westminster Abbey as depicted on the Bayeux Tapestry. Note the dead bells held by the two people next to (below) the deceased. Wikipedia
SCOTTISH FUNERAL SONGS ²
🎼 = A classic bagpipe tune (I couldn’t find a bagpipe emoji)
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“The Parting Glass" is a traditional Scottish song typically played during gatherings of friends and family. However, it has also transitioned into a popular funeral song, focusing on the meaning of friendship. Many people appreciate the meaning of this song and love to play it for a family member or friend that held a special place in their heart.
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While this song is often seen published as a poem, it is originally a song. It was written in 1794 and has since been played at countless funerals. It may even appear in greeting cards from time to time.
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"Flower of Scotland" is considered a sort of an anthem of Scotland is often played at large public gatherings. However, due to its sentimental nature, it is not uncommon to hear it played at funerals. People connect with this song in a way that makes it a great choice to say a final “farewell” as you lay your loved one to rest.
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This song was initially written about a marriage that never came to be; the beautiful melody can often be heard during a Scottish funeral. The song certainly adds a little something special to the procession despite the content being somewhat out of context.
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While the original artist is unknown, the version by The Munros is certainly worth a listen. For Scottish funerals, it is common for the tune to be played with bagpipes. It is common for this song to be played without lyrics.
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Commonly used as music for waltzing, the melody is so moving that it is often used for funerals as well. While an American folk musician wrote it, the Scottish undertones are undeniable.
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The original words to the melody are unknown, but since its creation in the 1700s, it has undergone various lyrical changes. The music is intended to depict a Scottish battle but has so much meaning to many people that it is often associated with funeral songs as well.
www.scottishbagpipers.com – Glyn Morris – Flowers-of-the-Forest
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Both Scotland and Ireland use this song for traditional funeral services. There are said to be three renditions of the song, and it is unclear from which country the tune originated.
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This timeless religious funeral song is played during funerals around the world. While not incredibly common at a Scottish funeral, it has certainly been added to the playlist. However, it is noted that this song is not easily played with bagpipes.
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This melodic instrumental song is performed at a variety of gatherings, including Scottish funerals. The song itself is about leaving home, and the many memories created there.
www.scottishbagpipers.com - Glyn Morris - Dark-Island-on-bagpipes
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While this is originally a German song, it is so well-loved in Scotland that it has been suggested to be the national anthem. Many people opt to play this traditional song during funerals and include bagpipes.
www.scottishbagpipers.com - Gyyn Morris - Highland-Cathedral-bagpipes
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This conventional Gaelic song is often included in Scottish funerals. It includes bagpipes and has various instruments added based on personal preferences.
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"Sleep, Dearie, Sleep" is another favorite song played with bagpipes. The focus of the song is about the comparison of death and long sleep. It is peaceful music that resonates with many.
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This is another bagpipe tune that is often played at a variety of gatherings. Sometimes, it can also be heard at funerals for those that enjoy this song or have personal memories tied to it.
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As noted throughout this list, bagpipes are a common instrument to use when playing Scottish funeral music. This is another option to choose from when searching for the perfect bagpipe song to add to the playlist.
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While the origin of the song is unknown, Lady Nairne wrote the lyrics to the melody. The song pays tribute to the life of the rowan tree, which in many ways can be compared to the life of a person lost.
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This song depicts the journey of Prince Charles Edward Stuart as he evaded capture during battle. Today, it is often played as a lullaby or slow waltz, making it an excellent choice as a funeral song as well.
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The poem was first written in 1847 and was only set to music as the composer was dying from tuberculosis. In fact, Lyte only lived three weeks after the poem was put to music. Today, it can be heard at Scottish funerals.
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This is a Christian song that was composed around 1527. The song is actually somewhat of a summary of Psalm 26 and has been translated into several languages. There is no question that many people adore this music.
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Written in 1856, this song has since been played during many Scottish gatherings, including funerals. It is a comforting ballad that is often played as a lullaby or even at weddings. This versatile song is loved by many.
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A very poignant slow air often played at Highland funerals.
www.scottishbagpipers.com – Glyn Morris –Cro-Chinn-t-Saile-The-Cro-of-Kintail-bagpipes
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This is another old Gaelic song with a nice melody. It’s appropriate to be played for various points of a Funeral Service.
www.scottishbagpipers.com – Glym Morris – Mist-Covered-Mountains
It was even sung by Mark Knopfler of Dire Straits fame:
SCOTTISH POEM OR VERSE ⁴
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Death is nothing at all
I have only slipped away into the next room
I am I and you are you
Whatever we were to each other
That we still areCall me by my old familiar name
Speak to me in the easy way which you always used
Put no difference into your tone
Wear no forced air of solemnity or sorrowLaugh as we always laughed
At the little jokes we always enjoyed together
Play, smile, think of me, pray for me
Let my name be ever the household word that it always wasLet it be spoken without effect
Without the ghost of a shadow on itLife means all that it ever meant
It is the same as it ever was
There is absolutely unbroken continuity
What is death but a negligible accident?Why should I be out of mind
Because I am out of sight?
I am but waiting for you at an interval
Somewhere very nearJust around the corner
All is well.
Henry Scott Holland 1847-1918
Canon of St Pauls CathedralThis poem is often read at funerals. The author did not intend it as a poem, it was actually delivered as part of a sermon in 1910. The sermon, titled, "Death the King of Terrors" was preached while the body of King Edward VII was lying in state at Westminster.
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She surely raised her bairns well,
Taught us strength and pride,
Gave us love o' homeland,
But couldna' make us bide.
We set off young, we set off auld,
In search of pastures new
Yet, one by one, along life's way
Find little that would do.We have our homes, we make a life
On every foreign shore;
Choose a husband, find a wife,
And still we yearn for more.
To soothe a restless, aching heart
We chase another scheme,
Follow one more rainbow
Yet we never still the dreamAye, she let us go so easily
With never a backward look.
But...how could we know as we sailed or flew
Our heart was a baited hook,
With a line as long as we want it to be
To wherever we may roam,
Till...out of the blue, with one sharp tug
"Mother Scotland" reels us home. -
You can shed tears that he is gone
or you can smile because he has lived.
You can close your eyes and pray that he’ll come back
or you can open your eyes and see all he’s left us.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see him
or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday
or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember him and only that he’s gone
or you can cherish his memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back
or you can do what he’d want: smile, open your eyes, love and go on.
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UNDER the wide and starry sky
Dig the grave and let me lie:
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.This be the verse you 'grave for me:
Here he lies where he long'd to be;
Home is the sailor, home from the sea,
And the hunter home from the hill. -
A limb has fallen from the family tree.
I keep hearing a voice that says,
“Grieve not for me.
Remember the best times,
the laughter, the song.
The good life I lived
while I was strong”.Continue my heritage, I’m counting on you.
Keep smiling and surely the sun will shine through.My mind is at ease, my soul is at rest.
Remembering all, how I truly was blessed.Continue traditions, no matter how small.
Go on with your life, don’t worry about falls.I miss you all dearly, so keep up your chin.
Until the day comes we’re together again. -
Viewless essence, thin and bare,
Well nigh melted into air,
Still with fondness hovering near
The earthly form thou once didst wear,Pause upon thy pinion's flight;
Be thy course to left or right,
Be thou doomed to soar or sink,
Pause upon the awful brink.To avenge the deed expelling
Thee untimely from thy dwelling,
Mystic force thou shalt retain
O'er the blood and o'er the brain.When the form thou shalt espy
That darken'd on thy closing eye,
When the footstep thou shalt hear
That thrill'd upon thy dying ear,Then strange sympathies shall wake,
The flesh shall thrill, the nerves shall quake,
The wounds renew their clotter'd flood,
And every drop cry blood for blood!From the novel “The Fair Maid of Perth”.
“Is death the last sleep?
No, it is the last and final awakening.”Sir Walter Scott
For matriarchs, mom or grandma
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"Departure and Departure and…" unveils the imagery of a train skirting the coastline, disappearing into an abyss of waves. The train, boarded by what is assumed to be the matriarch, heads off into the night under a brilliantly white moon, never to be seen again
Someone is waving a white handkerchief from the train as it pulls out with a white plume from the station and rumbles its way to somewhere that does not matter.
But it will pass the white sands and the broad sea that I have watched under the sun and moon in the stop of time in my childhood as I am now there again and waiting for the white handkerchief.
I shall not see her again but the waters rise and fall and the horizon is firm. You who have not seen that line hold the brimming sea to the round earth cannot know this pain and sweetness of departure.
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The Grey Dogs sang Lady Nairne's poem "Land o' the Leal" for the movie soundtrack to the Outlaw King, a historical drama based on the famed Robert the Bruce.
As the song is about one’s departure to a land of the faithful, it also works as a Scottish funeral song for any matriarch in your family, even though the author initially wrote the poem about a child.
I'm wearing awa', Jean,
Like snaw when its thaw, Jean,
I'm wearing awa'
To the land o' the leal.There's nae sorrow there, Jean,
There's neither cauld nor care, Jean,
The day is ay fair
In the land o' the leal.Ye were ay leal and true, Jean,
Your task's ended noo, Jean,
And I'll welcome you
To the land o' the leal.Our bonnie bairn's there, Jean,
She was baith guid and fair, Jean;
O we grudged her right sair
To the land o' the leal!Then dry that tearfu' e'e, Jean,
My soul langs to be free, Jean,
And angels wait on me
To the land o' the leal.Now fare ye weel, my ain Jean,
This warld's care is vain, Jean;
We'll meet and ay be fain
In the land o' the leal. -
Violet Jacob sympathized with those who were less fortunate than her, especially the vagabonds and single mothers. She published many genres of poetry throughout her life, not discounting themes of grief and sorrow.
Ye’ve left the sun an the canle-licht an the starlicht
The woods baith green an sere,
And yet I hear ye singin doon the braes
I’ the licht nichts o the year.Ye were sae glad; ye were ae sae like the laverock
Wha’s hert is i the lift
Nae mair for ye the young green leaves will dance
Nor yet the auld anes drift.What thocht had you o the ill-faured dairk o winter
But the ingle-nooks o hame?
Love lit yer way an played aboot yer feet
Year in, year oot, the same.And noo my best, my bonniest and my dearest,
I’ll lay ma hert tae sleep
And let the warld, that has nae soonds for me,
Its watch o silence keep.But, whiles an whiles, i the canle-licht an the starlicht
I’ll wauken it to hear
The liltin voice that’s singin doon the braes
I’ the licht nichts o the year. -
Harvie is an obscure poet, left off some of the prominent compilations of famous Scottish poets but notes his optimistic tone. In it, the spouse is journeying home to his rejoin bride, which could indicate the anticipation of uniting with each other in the afterlife.
Whan I cam hame ti you, my lass,
whan gloamin smoors ma sun,
I’ll tak the road richt willanlie
wi never a waywart turn.Straucht on, gaen naither richt nor left
ootower the lang laich road
whan airthly bonds, at last, are lowsed
and aisy sits the load.Whan aa the brigs are burnan bricht
an aa the ties are cut,
I’ll walk again a hamelie road
my feet hae lang forgot.Tho snaa sud faa and snell winds blaa
and rivers rair and faem,
it’s blythe we’ll be, baith you and me,
when I am cum safe hame, -
While not a typical funeral poem, consider "Hurlygursh" because of its tone, subject matter, and capacity to invoke reflection or contemplation.
The hurlygush an hallyock o the watter a-skinlan i the moveless simmer sun
harles aff the scourie mountain wi a yatter that thru ten-thousand centuries has run.
Wi cheek against the ash o withered bracken I ligg at peace and hear nae soun at aa
but yonder hurlygush that canna slacken thru time and space mak never-endin faa,
as if a volley o the soun had brocht me doun tae the pool whaur timeless things begin,
and e’en this endless faa’an that had claucht me wi ilka ither force was gether’t in.
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"Hairst" is about the harvest and could be read symbolically for one's adolescent life or current rural lifestyle. Note Margaret Gilles Brown's use of metaphor where the last of is also the finality of life.
The last lang woosh of grain and aff the tractor speeds
stottin owre ruts, splashin through glaur,
throwin mud to the settin sun
to reach the hills o gowd heapin in the barn.It seems the whole warld`s busy.
The flurry re-enacted on ilka fairm aroon.
Men at wark tae feed their bairns;
keep hoose and steadin wind and waterticht.
Clouds are charcoal against pink –For a moment the sinkin sun flairs oot.
In the aftermath stubble turns a curious gowden- reed.
Aboon, late swallows jink aboot catching invisible thrips
and a hare, twa rabbits scamper from the last strip o standin grain.Hairst ower for anither year.
An auld bonnet is thrown hich ow`re the silent combine
by way o praise.The whisky bottle`s oot on the kitchen table.
For dad or grandpa
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Contemporary poet G.F. Dutton found great influence in natural environments and their varying connections with one another. His style is ripe with the use of both metaphor and humor.
"Dignity" will work for that patriarch who was an avid explorer, one who questioned with curious intent and imitated a carefree existence with every breath.
These young birches
shriek green laughter up the hill
billow on billow. They
stop as he enters. He
carries his promised absence
carefully and yes
he does seem slow
but the end of life
is dignity what though
birches toss their impatience and
the spring sun’s at his back like a knife.This wood’s enough
to practise silence in
and let him go.from The Bare Abundance: Selected poems 1975-2001 (Bloodaxe Books, 2002),
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The balance of the poem is about a requested epitaph, one that invokes the poet's role as both sailor and hunter returning home.
Under the wide and starry sky,
Dig the grave and let me lie.
Glad did I live and gladly die,
And I laid me down with a will.This be the verse you grave for me:
Here he lies where he longed to be;
Home is the sailor, home from sea,
And the hunter home from the hill. -
Burns's 'Winter: A Dirge" is best suited for that elder patriarch who lived a long, fulfilling life and is almost happy about the next leg of the journey.
The poem combines a cold, wintry finality with a positive, if almost joyful, readiness.
The wintry west extends his blast,
And hail and rain does blaw;
Or, the stormy north sends driving forth
The blinding sleet and snaw:
While tumbling brown, the burn comes down,
And roars frae bank to brae;
And bird and beast in covert rest,
And pass the heartless day.The sweeping blast, the sky o’ercast,
The joyless winter-day,
Let others fear, to me more dear
Than all the pride of May:
The tempest’s howl, it soothes my soul,
My griefs it seems to join;
The leafless trees my fancy please,
Their fate resembles mine!Thou Pow’r Supreme, whose mighty scheme
These woes of mine fulfil,
Here, firm, I rest, they must be best,
Because they are Thy will!
Then all I want (O, do Thou grant
This one request of mine!)
Since to enjoy Thou dost deny,
Assist me to resign. -
Hugh MacDiarmid wasn't well-liked or even revered by most of his peers as he was a Communist and member of the Scottish Nationalist Party.
Although his political affiliation was tough to swallow, his poetry, including "Crowdieknowe," was filled with a touch of snark and a bit of surprise.
Oh to be at Crowdieknowe when the last trumpet blaws
and see the deid come lowpin 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 swearinAn glower at God an a’ his gang o angels in the lift,
they trashy bleezin French-like folk who 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 of Crowdieknowe! -
Behind my father's house there lies A little grassy brae,
Whose face my childhood's busy feet Ran often up in play,
Whence on the chimneys I looked down In wonderment alway.Around the house, where'er I turned, Great hills closed up the view;
The town 'midst their converging roots Was clasped by rivers two;
From one hill to another sprang The sky's great arch of blue.Oh! how I loved to climb their sides, And in the heather lie;
The bridle on my arm did hold The pony feeding by;
Beneath, the silvery streams; above, The white clouds in the sky.And now, in wandering about, Whene'er I see a hill,
A childish feeling of delight Springs in my bosom still;
And longings for the high unknown Follow and flow and fill.For I am always climbing hills, And ever passing on,
Hoping on some high mountain peak To find my Father's throne;
For hitherto I've only found His footsteps in the stone.And in my wanderings I have met A spirit child like me,
Who laid a trusting hand in mine, So fearlessly and free,
That so together we have gone, Climbing continually.Upfolded in a spirit bud, The child appeared in space,
Not born amid the silent hills, But in a busy place;
And yet in every hill we see A strange, familiar face.For they are near our common home; And so in trust we go,
Climbing and climbing on and on, Whither we do not know;
Not waiting for the mournful dark, But for the dawning slow.Clasp my hand closer yet, my child - A long way we have come!
Clasp my hand closer yet, my child - For we have far to roam,
Climbing and climbing, till we reach Our Heavenly Father's home. -
"Night Fishing" is an ideal poem for that fisherman grandpa. Read it aloud for his eulogy or put it on the front of a funeral program so that others can hold onto this beautifully descriptive fishing adventure.
Britten’s Pond, a July dusk
mayflies hazing the flat, brown water
as the day’s last rooks flowed into the trees
and you threw crusts of Mother’s Pride
out among the reeds where, you reckoned,
the big carp swam like slow, fat kings.A moth-rich summer darkness came –
some mist, grass and bracken scents,
train echoes from the bridge across Salt Box Road
but all that cool, unlucky night
our hooks hung weightless, free.I can’t remember if we blamed the weather or the bait
or if we said much at all
but I can see you, Les, settled into the shadow
of that ridiculously big angler’s umbrella
a mug of thermos tea cradled on your lap
while you drew calmly on a Players Number 6
as if you’d always known
it wasn’t about the strike, the catchand isn’t now
talking about you, in your garden
in the April sunlight
these forty slow years later.
These other worlds. -
Late in life, and often after the death of a parent, children notice their faces in themselves and other inherited traits. But Salt's revelation or understanding is more than the characteristics of a hand—it's also the last and most poignant days those hands held a pen or folded together after a poor diagnosis.
The gap between my fingers
stops me in my tracks
I wear my father’s hands
big knuckles dating time
like tree ringsgrief does not mend
it grows a scab on paina smelly cheese, buffed shoes ,
a cactus in a pot
linseed
a stranger’s ears or nose
will knock it off
to bare the wound
againthey say hands are the giveaway
and I remember his
holding a pen
a book
a Players No.10or folded in his lap
on the day of the diagnosisknowing the train had left the station
that it was the last one home. -
Muir's "The Late Swallow" remarks of old age and a kind of holding on that our loved ones sometimes do.
In the poem, the swallow is the last to leave; his friends have all headed south, and yet he clings for some reason to the waning day.
Leave, leave your well-loved nest,
Late swallow, and fly away.
Here is no rest
For hollowing heart and wearying wing.Your comrades all have flown
To seek their southern paradise
Across the great earth’s downward sloping side,And you are alone.
Why should you cling
Still to the swiftly ageing narrowing day?Prepare;
Shake your pinions long untried
That now must bear you there where you would be
Through all the heavens of ice;
Till falling down the homing air
You light and perch upon the radiant tree.First published in One Foot in Eden (Faber, 1956)
Humorous funeral poems
There's a theme here, either of rotten husbands and wives or just plain rottenness.
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Given the latent or implied chauvinism, the poem may not be reasonable for all personalities.
“As father Adam first was fool'd,
Here lies man a woman ruled,
The devil ruled the woman.” -
Robert Burns's poem highlights those who seek forgiveness at the last minute after having lived a life that's perhaps less pious than most,
Note the solid reference for the many women who, as the poet writes, led him astray.
O Thou unknown, Almighty Cause
Of all my hope and fear!
In whose dread presence, ere an hour,
Perhaps I must appear!If I have wander'd in those paths
Of life I ought to shun,
As something, loudly, in my breast,
Remonstrates I have done;Thou know'st that Thou hast formed me
With passions wild and strong;
And list'ning to their witching voice
Has often led me wrong.Where human weakness has come short,
Or frailty stept aside,
Do Thou, All-Good -for such Thou art-
In shades of darkness hide.Where with intention I have err'd,
No other plea I have,
But, Thou art good; and Goodness still
Delighteth to forgive. -
Written as an epitaph for John Randall Miser, this snarky little poem fits any persnickety, albeit terrible human.
“He was mean and rotten to his wife,
And soon will be forgotten.
He was mean and rotten to his wife,
But now he's only rotten.” -
The angels were alerted,
And to his bed were sent,
They waited with the landlord,
Who's still waiting for his rent. -
We miss your lovely soda scones
And your loaves both brown and plain,
But it's nice to know you'll never want
Nor knead the dough again. -
Burns's clever description of a horrible teacher is every parent or child's nightmare. At least his next destination is a given.
“Here lie Willie Michie's banes;
O, Satan! when ye tak' him,
Gi' him the schoolin' o' your weans,
For clever de'ils he'll mak' them.”
Short verses
Although the poems below are short, they're filled with imagery and metaphor, leaving room for contemplation.
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"Song" by William Soutar recognizes all of life is connected; its ends and beginnings, life and death, that which gives or takes, and the fruited weight on a struggling bough.
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Scott's poem recognizes that most people go about life waiting to see what is and what isn't—without giving it much thought.
“Lik a blinn body finin
their wey tae the ootgang
A mak ma wey throu this life
waitin tae see whit is ayont”