Letters in Ulster-Scots
Conal Gillespie, from East Donegal, presenter of BBC NI's programme 'Kist o Wurds' which will be broadcast again this autumn, recalls a letter from Robert Burns to a friend.
Hits mebbe thirtie yeir sine bot a min hit weel. A wus dannerin tae tha shap fur tae lif mae ma's messages quhan a bhoy stapped es cair an axed tha ra tae Robbie Lyttle's ferm. A wus wrochtin oot tha bes wie tae thae ferm in ma heid quhan an aul boadie cum alang an tuk ower tha discoorse. "Robbie Lyttle's hoose bes in Glencaw", alooed yer man. "Where's Glencaw" axed tha bhoy in tha cair. "Fernenst Glentoher", tha aul bhoy cums beck. "Where's Glentoher", saies tha stranger, getting brawly vexed. "Atween Glentoskert an Glensheskin"tha aul fella saies beck. Tha bhoy in tha cair tuk aff nae clean bate aboot tha ra tae Robbie Lyttle's.
Frae a tha ye wud hae tae alloo tha gif fowk tuk tae screevin tae yin anither in Ulster Scots maist poasties, (lik tha feck o fowk), wud bae scunnered an gye gunked ettlin tae wrocht oot quhar onie boadie leed gif wheens o yins tuk tae screevin addresses in wur ain leid. In baag pairts o tha kintra near haun ivryboadie kin collouge in Ulster Scots bit onie wee wheens ir raidin an screevin in tha leid. Whiles ye'd hae tae aloo tha tha wheen o fowk tha raids an screeves in Ulster Scots bes getting brawly baag yins wha dae thair ivrydae screevin in tha leid bes gye scarsome yit. Hit wusnae allus sae.
Beck in tha yeir 17&87 Robert Burns wus stravagin around
" It's true she's as poor's a sang maker and as hard's a kirk, an tipper-taipers when she takes the gate first, like a lady's gentlewoman in a minuwae or a hen on a het girdle, but she's a yauld pouthrie girran for a' that; and has a stomach like Willie Stalker's mere that wad hae digested tumbler wheels, for she'll whip me aff her five stimparts o' the best aits at a down sittin and na'er fash her thumb. - When ance her ringbanes an spavies, her crucks and cramps, are fairly soupl'd she beets to beets to and ay the hindmost hour the tightest."
Noo tha's braw braid an accause wheens o tha wurds bae tae bae gyely aul farrent near haun ivryboadie wud bae haird pit tae owerset hit intil Inglis. For a' tha A'hd alloo tha whin ye raid thir owersettin hit'll join tae get aisier tae mak oot.
Thir bes whit Burns screevit tae es freen, pit ower in Inglis;
"Its true that she's as poor a lyricist and as hard as a church and staggers when she goes on the road, just like a lady's gentlewoman dancing or a hen on a hot griddle; but still, she's an alert and spirited beast and has a stomach like Willie Stalker's mare and could eat cartwheels, for she'll eat five eighths of a bushel of my oats at any feed without difficulty. Once her assorted joints and spavins, her lameness and cramps are suppled she improves bit by bit and is always at her best for the last hour".
Twa hunner yeir sine fowk laik Burns an Willie Nichol cud mak an raid screeds in Scotch. Gif ye alloo tha hit wudnae appen tha dae ye'd mebbe bae richt, bot A knaw aboot twa boadies thedae wha sen E-Poasts tae yin anither screevit in Ulster Scots. Hits mair nor likely tha thair bes far mair o thir gaein oan forebye. Hooiniver gif ye collouge, raid