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Scottish Poems 2004 Introduction |
The Poems | Acknowledgements
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The poems |
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| Matthew Fitt |
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Kate o Shanter's Talean extract Now, wha this tale o’ truth shall read, Ye juist poppt in, duid ye ay well, dinnae gie’s it, shanter ye cam in here a bletherin, blusterin, drunken blellum, sae ye ur From Kate o Shanter's Tale and other poems (Edinburgh: Luath, 2003). Extract reprinted by permission of the publisher.
‘Kate o Shanter’s Tale’ isna ma best poem. Whit a thing tae say, eh. Here it’s bein includit in an on-line Tap-Twinty o Scottish poetry and aw I can say is, it isnae ony guid. Am I a self-deprecatin wee Scottish gadgie or whit? But ‘Kate’ is far fae the brawest piece I’ve written. I feel awfie proud o maist o ma poems but ‘Kate’ has an unco position in ma hert, a wee bit like I imagine the original fictional Kate had in Tam’s. I think, nearly twinty year since its creation (aye, that’s how auld this thing is), I’m comin tae unnerstaun how I hae sic ambivalence towards this three-page monologue. It began wi a fragment - ‘An ye were buckled’. Words uttered by a friend of mine, Pete Carroll from Alloa in Central Scotland. He wis recoontin the nicht afore when a bourach o neebors had been oot on the randan in Edinburgh, me amang them, and had come hame shooglie and shauchlie and nane o us very sober. The neist mornin Pete, juist as heids were stertin tae lift aff pillaes and the livin deid rose oot o the lang hames o their beds, wis fair enjoyin lettin everybody ken exactly how fou they had been. When he had run throu the leet o shame, there wis yin body that still hadnae been lowsed fae Morpheus’ blootered embrace. At last, appearin at the door as peeliewally as daith, Pete Carroll roared oot at yon puir sowel in triumph, ‘An ye were buckled’. The line stuck. Owre the neist puckle o days I had it in ma heid gaun roon and roon. I could neither dae onythin wi it nor get it oot o ma thochts. It wisnae until I wheeched roon the gender o the speaker and tried listenin tae the line in a female voice that I dunted intae the idea o pittin thir words intae the mooth o that unsung heroine o Scots Literature, Mrs Kate o Shanter. Pete Carroll, a computer studies student at Napier College, wis transformed intae an eighteenth century gudewife wi a drunken eejit for a gudeman and a cuddie eternally lossin and regrowin its tail. The poem is a guid-gaun rant, a voice that taks its subject by the scruff o the breeks and bowffs its heid aff the flair a wheen times. I enjoyed writin it. It wis rair fun mixter-maxterin the eighteenth and twintieth centuries by flingin in kebabs and chips and it seemed richt tae mix and mell Burns’ words in wi ma ain. I wisnae ettlin tae climb on Rabbie’s shooders, juist tae celebrate in the twintieth century the images he wrocht intae life twa hunder year afore. It’s mibbe the energy that comes poorin oot through the pores o this poem. Mibbe it’s juist the big bad words, as ma auld auntie used tae caw swearin (I hope no). Mibbe folk like it because it gies a voice tae an intriguin character that in ‘Tam o Shanter: A Tale’ is kept at the elba o aw the action. The thing is, although I still love readin it oot tae audiences, I dinna think there’s enough poetry til it tae mak it worth batherin wi mair than yince. In spite o that, it is read at Burns’ Suppers aw roond the planet and remains the maist weel-kent thing I’ve written. Matthew Fitt A tour de force – energetic, witty, funny, clever and, like Burgess’s poem, a female take on a famous (male-centred) story. It helps to know the Burns original but it can be enjoyed on its own. Hamish Whyte Matthew Fitt was born in Dundee in 1968. He was the second holder of the Brownsbank Fellowship and writer-in-residence in Greater Pollok in Glasgow. A poet and novelist, his Scots SF novel But n Ben A-Go-Go was published in 2000 followed by his first poetry collection, Kate o Shanter’s Tale and other poems, in 2003. He is currently Schools Officer for the successful Scots Language imprint, Itchy Coo. |
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