Echaes frae a Stiddie
Screivit by Rabert E. Howard
I leave tae pegral makars
The tabor an the lute;
I sing in drums an tom-toms
The bleck bysmal bruit –
Ma vyse is o’ the people,
Thon etin wild an mout.
Wi’ bluid o’ aw the ages
His braken nails are bleck,
The hale waurld wechts an burdens
His birsie beastial back;
He shammles doon ivermair
A blin an fankelt track.
I bring nae sneithit diamants,
Nae gems frae Lunnon toun;
Nae culturt wheem or teevock
Ma rochle varses croun;
You find here nocht but pouer
That braks a ceety doun.
I spill nae wirds o’ beauty,
Cuinyies frae a siller purse,
Ma hauns are built o’ airn,
An airn is in ma varse.
I bring nae luve but fury,
Nae blissin but a curse.
Ma law-fung brou is slentit,
Ma een are burnin reid,
Wi’ fairce bleck primal veesions
That thunner in ma heid;
Ahint ma hert the rivers
An aw the jungles spreid.
I sclaved in starn-girt Babel
An lauboured at the wa’;
I watchit the birth o’ pavies
Aneath ma clourin mell –
An in a frenzied dawin
I saw her tours faw.
I toiled in Tuscan vinyairds,
I brak the beaten laim,
I streend agin the haimer
That drave the clourer haim;
I sweitit in the gaileys
That brak the road tae Roum.
Och, Khan an keeng an pharaoh!
In cauld an drouth an heat
I bled tae build yer glore,
An eemock aneath yer feet –
But aye ris a mornin
Whan bluid ran in the street.
The waurld upon ma shouders
Knee deep in muck an silt,
Ma haun aneath ma tatters
Still grips the hidden hilt –
Wha fed the auncient rivers
Wi’ bluid rebellions spilt?
