by Caitlin


Jackie Kay


If ye went tae the tapmost hill, Fiere

Whaur we used to clamb as girls,

Ye’d see the snow the day, fiere,

settling on the hills.

You’d mind o’ anither day, mibbe,

we ran doon the hill in the snow,

sliding and singing oor way tae the foot,

Lassies laughing thegither – how braw.

The years slipping awa; oot in the weather.

And noo we’re suddenly auld, fiere,

Oor friendship’s ne’er been weary.

We’ve always seen the wurld differently.

whaur would I hae been weyoot my jo,

My fiere, my fiercy, my dearie o?

Oor hair micht be silver noo,

Ooor walk a wee bit doddery,

But we’ve had a whirl and a blast, girl,

Thru the cauld blast winter, trhu spring, summer.

O’oer a lifetime, my fiere, my bonnie lassie,

I’d defend you – you me; blithe and blather,

Here we gang doon the hill, nae matter,

past the bracken,bothy, bonny braes, barley.

Oot by the raoring sea, still havin a blether.

We who loved sincerley; we who loved sae fiercely.

The snow ne’er looked so barrie,

nor the winter trees sae pretty.

C’mon, C’mon my dearie – tak my hand, my fiere!