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The Auld Caff Seck

This recording is the the Caithness poem 'E Owld Caff Seck by Donald Grant.
The Scots transcription uses the traditional literary conventions described in Wir Ain Leed, it is a transcription of what was said, not an attempt at phonetic accuracy and may differ from that of the author.

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Recording used courtesy of and hosted by the School of Scottish Studies Archive.

A dinna like the pleatit beds at modren fowk lie on
Wi all at weirs at leave yer back juist like a brandered scone
None o at streamlined beds for me! The kynd o rest A like
Is wi ma haunch-bone buiried in the auld caff-seck!

A like a bed at maks a muive til welcome achin backs,
No like this new contraptions at defy ye til relax
Yer torturt body wallops til yer bones are like til brek;
Gie me the yieldin welcome wi the auld caff-seck.

Ye clim abuird at bedtime, ye snuggle warm and deep,
It hauds ye in its soft embrace and lulls ye off til sleep;
It gaithers roond ye like a spell and gairds ye safe and soond
And like a bairn ye slumber til anither day comes roond.

Mebbe whan simmer's at its hicht it's apt til brak the sweit,
But on a bitin winter's nicht its comfort's haurd til beat.
Whan nothin seems til warm yer bones awa til bed ye traik
And thaw yer shiverin carcass on the auld caff-seck.

Whan this new-fangeled mattresses are gettin kin o ripe
Thay ask a lock o siller til pit thaim back in shape
But whan the caff-seck's haed its day leuk at the cash ye hain!
Juist empty hit ahint the dyke and fill it up again!

No wonder at fowk nouadays complain o sleeplessness
On at glorified weir-nettin thay call a spring mattress.
Let ithers in thair ignorance uise at things if thay like,
A'll snore ma wey til glory on ma auld ...