So. Share our works today.
I originally wasn't going to.
But I figured - why not??
The first story is another scene from Willem's universe. There are a LOT of scenes in that one, but I was in a happy mood. Also, I didn't want to post something that needed a lot of explanation....
The second one is from Adam's universe and has one of my favourite written scenes. My other favourite scene is the one where I murder Jason. *evil laughter* Spoilers sweetie.... (or is it... *grins*)
The next is actually two stories but....I posted them together because why not. Life loves to watch mortal television shows and gets very invested into the plots and characters. And I was annoyed with SPN again even though I don't watch the thing.... Death is the eldest brother, and he watches the others. Life CAN be responsible but....he rarely wants to be, especially around Death.
Then two poems from the anthology. They're easy to write....
Behind Closed Doors
c. 2000
“You wear
this hat.”
“Perhaps I want that one.” He pointed at the green hat sitting
behind the blue one she had picked out.
She shook her head, pushing the chosen hat back to him. “This hat.”
With a sigh of long-suffering but a smile of pleasure, he placed the
hat atop his head. Looking back to her for approval, he spread his
arms and gestured.
She giggled, nodding happily.
“Wonderful.”
“You serve now.”
“That is the hostess' job, liebchen.”
She shook her head soberly. “It's Mama's job.”
“Really?”
“Yes. You have to do it.”
“Stenka, you try me...” He tucked his feet closer beneath him,
tugging the plastic tea tray closer to him. Pouring little more than
swallows of lemonade in the doll-sized china cups, he absently
reached out to tug the bowl of jelly babies away from her when she
reached out for them. “Wait to be served, ja?”
She nodded again, eagerly leaning forward and watching him pour the
'tea'.
A cup and saucer was soon distributed to the various toy and human
guests, and the drink was accented with the candy. Willem grimaced at
the amount of sugar within the lemonade, but drunk it nonetheless
while Stasya happily carried on a conversation between two dolls
while the tea party was played out.
He watched her, occasionally taking a sip from his empty cup or
answering one of the toys when the girl turned them to him. He
watched her.
He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't have her. He hadn't wanted her.
After only a year, he could never give her up.
He never wanted or expected a family. They were liabilities –
weaknesses. Any comfort or pleasure they afforded could not make it
worthwhile. Finding pleasure in affairs and single nights was always
his modus operendi. Finding comfort in the only family he had
that had adopted him was all he would allow. He would have no other
family – he lived for his work.
And now he had a little girl. Not a daughter – she was Ezekiel's
daughter and not his whatever may come. He could accept her as a
neice, but he could not be a father. He was not fit to be. He wasn't
really fit to be an uncle either – but he could muddle through
that.
He was a criminal. He broke the law. He dabbled in dangerous things.
His hands were dirtier than he liked, but he would undo none of it.
There was a satisfaction in what he did, in how he did it. There was
a pleasure in his accomplishments that outdid any he could find in a
companion.
He was not a father. But he was expected to raise a child. He was
expected to take responsibility for another being and shape her,
guide her, protect her. He was expected to love her.
He adored her. 'Sveta' she was often called – 'light'. There was no
darkness in her, no sadness. The only heartbreak she remembered was
when she wasn't allowed another cookie or when she couldn't find her
toy. She had lost her father, but it was something that didn't matter
for long – he was 'with mama'. She was staying with her Uncle that
had raised her almost as much as her Papa had. She was still 'home'.
It terrified him, being left with the girl. It wasn't what he would
have wished. He had no experience with children – no experience
with good. The highlight of her day was to sit in the window seat
with a book and tell stories to her doll; the highlight of his day
was to arrange a monetary transfer safely. They were from two
different worlds.
But he wouldn't give her up. It was too late for that now. He would
give everything for her – and he half expected she knew that.
He glanced up as the door to his office opened, pulled out of his
thoughts by the sound. The girl didn't stop playing, and the intruder
didn't look up from the paper he was reading. For a minute, the only
sound was that of Stasya talking.
“Adolf.”
“Ja.” He didn't look up from the paper, crossing the room to sit
in an armchair beside the wall.
She finally looked up, dropping her toy and jumping up to run to the
man and wrap her arms around his waist. “Dolly!”
He dropped the paper in surprise and then finally looked to his boss
in confusion. “Karg?”
Willem didn't stand, almost pouring himself another glass of lemonade
but choosing a piece of candy instead. “Ja?”
“Karg,” he stood, firmly detaching the girl from him and pulling
free when she tried to drag him over to the tea party table. “Your
meeting?”
“I am engaged, ja?”
“You are sitting on the floor with dolls.”
He took another piece of candy.
“You are a grown man.”
“Uncle Villain is having tea with me – come on, Dolly!”
“I also have the better nickname...”
Adolf groaned and pulled free as the girl tried again to pull him
over. Pouting, she ran back to Willem and sat on his lap.
“He won't play with me!”
“Adolf is very busy – if he read the message, he would know that
he could have slept another hour.”
She frowned in confusion. “But it's almost lunch! He would miss
it!”
“Ja.”
“Why would he do that?” She was horrified at the prospect
of sleeping through a meal. “Is he sick?”
Willem chuckled. “Nein – he is tired. He has been working hard.”
“Doing what?”
“Things for me.”
The man in question rubbed his forehead. “I am going back to
bed...”
“But lunch!”
“I'll eat later Stenka....”
“...Uncle Villain?”
He patted her on the back as his employee left. “He will be fine,
darling. Now tell me more about this hat that your doll wants.”
“Mrs. Rosie!”
“Ja.” He let Stasya settle in on his lap again. “Tell me what
hat Mrs. Rosie wants – would she like some more tea?”
Stasya nodded eagerly, and he smiled and he refilled the cups for
her.
Confession Confusion
“You
didn't really kill him
– did you, Adam?”
He glanced up from the paperwork he was working on. “Jason, your
faith in my patience is overwhelming.”
“Because I have so many sterling examples of it, don't I...”
“Indeed. Do you not breathe?”
“I'm dying of laughter.”
“I'm glad.” He looked back to the papers.
“...Adam?”
He
sighed. “No, Jason, I did
not kill the officer. I merely showed him why someone else
would if he did not apply himself.”
Jason winced. “It should count as cruel and unusual punishment.”
“No – that would be robbing a parent of their child by something
that could have been easily avoided.” He glanced up again. “I
should be given a medal – can you say that it has not improved your
own reactions?”
“You
put a loaded gun to my
head and told me
shoot!”
“And your immediate reaction was to disarm and pistol-whip me. If I
had thought you would not pass with flying colours, I would have
removed the clip from my gun. And allowed you to shoot at the target
before testing you.”
“...you usually unload your gun?”
“I
do not wish to kill
them, Jason...”
“Should I be insulted or honoured that you didn't bother to
consider my safety?”
Adam rolled his eyes. “You gave me a concussion – I think that I
should have feared for mine.”
He
thought
a moment. “Alright, fair point – but you'd still be hard-pressed
to prove that shooting me was in self-defense.”
“I would plead insanity. Justifiable, of course.”
It was Jason's turn to roll his eyes. “Do you remember that time
you taught me how to swim?”
Adam frowned in thought, and then smiled slightly as he remembered.
His partner grimaced. “You would remember that fondly...”
“You had whined all summer that you didn't know how to swim – I
was merely assisting you.”
“You pushed me into the deep end of the pool!”
He shrugged. “You learnt.”
He groaned, and then stood up. “Do you want some coffee or
something while I'm gone?”
“Sans
nefarious substances?”
“You're getting my snacks mixed up with your own.”
“Ah – of course. Mine are edible.”
“Fine – be that way. See if I offer again.”
“...Jason?”
He turned back, still smiling. “Yeah?”
“Some cold water would be greatly appreciated, thank you.”
He shrugged. “Sure! See you in an hour or so. Or more.”
“Don't get lost...”
“I won't. There will be a mugging turned kidnapping and I shall
have to rush off heroically to save the day and the beautiful
maiden.”
He
shook his head absently as he returned his attention to his
paperwork. “Alright, Jason. Have fun storming the castle.” He
could hear Jason sighing in exasperation through his grin as he
pulled a new requisition form towards him as well.
He
worked in silence for nearly a half hour, working through several
forms and reports. The background noise of the station around him was
relaxing; but he was grateful for his private, walled-off section. He
grimaced as he typed another report in – too much noise was only a
distraction. He frowned in thought as he eyed the pile of reports
still waiting on Jason's desk – the reports that Jason would likely
put off until the very last minute and then rush through. Perhaps he
could stay late again...
“So,
I heard from somewhere that you killed someone before.”
He didn't look up. “And how long did you stand beside the water
cooler to hear that bit of information?”
The larger detective didn't answer that. “It made me think just how
someone like you could have such a reputation.”
“Is it surprising that I exist?”
“I mean – you struggle away with all this paperwork, so far
behind... And yet there's a nasty rumour going around that you're a
killer.”
Adam sighed and closed his eyes for a moment, mentally associating
the man's voice with....nails on a chalkboard or cats yowling. Or
worse...
“And you've tired yourself out, just sitting here at a desk...”
“Against
seemingly overwhelming evidence, there are exceptions to the rule
that might makes right – occasionally, a task may be accomplished
by brains rather than brawn.” He
looked up. “It is astounding what one can accomplish with
paperwork.”
He shrugged. “If you say so. But tell me – was it self-defense?
Manslaughter? An unrelated accident? Coincidence?”
Adam stared at the man for a moment. “First degree murder.”
He was quiet, and then burst into laughter. “You? A murderer?”
He shrugged. “Paperwork is an amazing thing.”
He sobered. “If you were really a killer, someone would have caught
you by now – that's just how things work.”
“That
is how it works for those that have been caught.
If one is not caught, then how do you know how many have gotten away
with it?”
He
opened his mouth to answer; but then shut it, frowning in confusion.
“Fine. Prove it. If
you got away with murder, how did you do it and who'd you kill?”
Adam hesitated, and the bigger detective grinned in triumph.
“You can't, can you – it's all just made up. Another one of your
mind games or something.”
Adam
grit his teeth together, abruptly pushing back a little from his
desk; glaring at the smug detective towering above him. “There were
a few. Shapely, most of them – women that men would not think to
look at openly in the street, but were certainly pleased enough to
think about alone. All women in the night – some in
passing, and some were
devoted...” He pretended to think for a moment, “care.” He
smiled slightly at his audience's shocked and slightly disgusted
look. “A simple matter – a word in an ear, a hand leading one to
a concealed place, and then?” He leaned back in his seat. “A
sharp knife and so much red blood.”
He held up his hands. “The knife – it was this long. Over six
inches, and it made the most beautiful of pictures; brought out the
most brilliant colours. I can still feel it within my grasp – hard
and silent.” He waved his hand dismissively. “Firearms may be the
apparent weapon of choice in murders – but a knife? It leaves
memories.”
“You're
sick.”
“Am
I? Perhaps I am...” He tilted his head to the side. “There was
one lovely girl – Mary, I believe her name was? Perhaps
Moira... She was beautiful – really quite attractive. Her hair...”
His hand reached up to lightly trace out something in the air.
“Auburn in some lights, nearly black in others – eye-catching to
say the least. She lived alone in a neat little room – and the
smell.” He closed his eyes, folding his hands in his lap again.
“Copper and metal – blood painting the walls and the furniture
wherever it could reach.”
The detective had stepped back.
Adam
opened his eyes and abruptly
leaned forward, not bothering to hide his satisfaction at being able
to startle the other man. “And I was never caught. I wrote the
police, I left enough clues – but they never found me. I did
nothing differently – merely continued my life. They suspected it
was a butcher, an officer, a lover, a doctor – but none suspected
me.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Perhaps I should start
again sometime...”
“You are twisted, Adam. “
“So I have often been told.”
He grit his teeth and stepped forward again. “If you told me this
to scare me-”
“It would be a pleasant bonus, certainly.”
“You're really mistaken.” He reached out and slammed Adam's head
onto his desk, holding it down as he grabbed a pair of cuffs and
crossed around the desk to handcuff the smaller man. He was still
disgusted, but he was smiling again. “You're really dumb enough to
confess to a cop just because he jibes you?” He jerked Adam up.
“I'm sure there'll be a cop somewhere thrilled to find a cold case
like that all closed up.”
*-*-*-*
“Hey,
Patrick,” He frowned at the files that were stacked around the
large detective's desk, “Did you get a case transfer or something
as soon as I left? You've got the remnants of the Black Forest
there!”
He barely acknowledged the returning detective, still sifting through
the much smaller pile of unseen files. “Or something...”
He tilted his head. “Or it's the tower of Piza...”
The bigger man glanced up. “Where've you been, anyway?”
He
straightened up with a shrug, setting
his coffee on his own desk and then crossing to set a large bottle of
water on his partner's. “There's this thing called recreational
walks – it's good for the heart and for the mind. It's really good
– you should try it sometime!”
“Yeah – you keep that on your side of the room, alright?”
“Touchy any? Did I mention that it also makes you smile?” He took
a sip of coffee and grimaced. “I don't know why I drink this
stuff...” He wandered across to look at the files Patrick was still
looking through. “Cold cases? Are you really that bored?”
He frowned at the file, shutting it with a snap and dropping it in
the 'done' pile.
Jason froze as the pile nearly tipped over.
“Hey – you ever hear of a really messed up murder? A bunch of
girls?”
“I've heard of a few – which?”
“Unsolved. Some pretty girls all cut up with a...” He paused to
think, “six inch knife, one red head dismembered in her room,
suspects had medical experience, there was a note to the cops –
anything ring a bell?”
He
frowned in thought now,
glancing through a folder of his own. “It sounds rather familiar –
did you think to ask Adam? He would probably know exactly which one
you're referencing.”
He dropped the last unread file on his desk and leaned back with a
grimace. “I'm sure he could.”
Jason sighed. “I know you can't stand him for whatever reason –
but he is a good detective. You've got to at least give him a
chance.”
He
sneered. “You're partner is the killer,
Jason – you just never noticed this.”
He stared at the other man in shock. “I'm sorry – I thought you
said that Adam was the killer? As in the man that murdered a bunch of
women? As in an apparent serial killer?”
“He confessed. So smart he thought he'd get away with it – wanted
to brag about it, prove he'd done it. Forgot that confessing to a cop
isn't smart.”
“I would say not...” He frowned; and then stepped forward,
pulling the other detective's mouse and keyboard towards him and
opening a browser on his computer. “Pardon me, I might be able to
help. This case does sound quite familiar...”
He pushed back a little bit, letting Jason work. “You're not
surprised – already suspect something of your partner?”
“Hardly. I know him too well to suspect anything. Especially
something like that.” He clicked on a link and scanned over the
page for a moment before gesturing Patrick forward. “There you go:
several women stabbed and mutilated with a knife longer than six
inches, suspected medical experience, a note from the killer, and a
red-haired girl killed in her rooms.”
“Yeah! That's it!”
He
straightened up. “There's just a small catch, Patrick: these
happened over a century ago. In
the Victorian Era by Jack the
Ripper – Adam might have
confessed to them, but he certainly didn't commit them.”
The other detective stared at the screen in shock, and then looked up
at Jason. “How-”
“I
know Adam and I know how you two work. You can't stand him and he
fights back the best way he knows: by basically making you look like
an idiot in his mind.
Now, please tell me you didn't hurt him too much?”
“He's a fool.”
Jason shrugged. “He's manipulative, certainly – but perhaps not
quite a fool.” He frowned again as the teetering pile of folders
finally toppled to the floor. “We'll take the rest of the day off –
but please return these for the next person who needs to solve a
case?”
*-*-*-*
“You're
going to get yourself killed one of these days, Adam.” He fiddled
with the lock for a moment, and finally forced it to turn. He shoved
the door open, glancing at it. “Did he mean to hinder you with
faulty equipment or something?”
Adam followed his gaze over the bars, silent.
Jason turned to his partner. “Let me guess: you're still cuffed.”
Adam stood wordlessly and turned around, waiting until his arms had
been released to move again. “...Thank you.”
“What
for this time?”
He turned back around, barely lifting his gaze from the ground. He
searched for an answer, but couldn't find any specific thing; and he
shrugged.
Jason rolled his eyes, wrapping his arm around his friend's shoulder
and tugging him close. “You might be immortal enough to have lived
a century – but I doubt your desk was forgiving.”
“...did you remember my water?”
“Of course!” He tugged his friend from the cell. “But we'll
have to get some more because if I have to see Patrick again I'm
probably going to do something I regret.”
“Jason
Alden regret something?” His voice was raspy, and Jason tried not
to think about the hours Adam had spent down there. Even if Adam had
fully expected it. “The world
has ended.”
“You should be a comedian – you're just an endless joke.”
Adam smiled slightly, stretching his arms. “Would it be possible to
guilt you into getting pizza and ice cream?”
“Guilt me? What do you have to guilt me with?”
“You left me to the mercies of that brute...”
“You
baited him.”
“You have no evidence as to that fact – I could have been
seriously injured.”
“Adam. If you're ever seriously injured, it means you didn't fight
back. And then I'm locking you in an asylum under suicide watch.”
“How touching.”
“I thought so to.” He paused. “But we can get pizza and ice
cream as long as I don't have to eat mint.”
“I wouldn't dream of it...”
“That's
what I'm afraid of.” He
grinned and tugged Adam close again. “And a movie?”
“You shan't pick.”
“You're no fun...”
Adam
smiled. “It depends upon your definition, I suppose.”
"How did they kill Death?"
His hand tightened on the cane once and then he lightly
set it beside him, pointedly looking out at the dark lake and not
down the street.
"Rings, alright. Horsemen without horses, alright.
No one staying dead, alright. But killing Death?" There was a
sigh and then a falter in the approaching footsteps as the speaker
dropped his hands from his head and looked up.
"Oh, goody - you can explain it to me."
Death sighed, snatching his cane out of the way before
his brother dropped on it. "Watch where you are going." He
shoved Life back as his brother almost crashed into him on the bench.
"Calm yourself! One would think you were a hyper toddler rather
than a supernatural being!"
Life shrugged. "You only live once!"
He pointedly did not answer.
"So, say there's some guy that makes a deal with
you -"
"A deal."
Life waved it off. "It's hypothetical - bear with
me. So he makes a deal and you give him your Blade -"
"Brother, what have you gotten into?" He
reached over and felt his brother's forehead. "I hardly thought
that Shades could fall ill."
"Hypothetical." He stressed each syllable,
almost bouncing off the bench.
Death drew back a little more from him.
"But the guy cuts you in half with the Blade! And
you disintegrate into ash! At least they got that right..... But then
nothing happens! How do you kill Death?"
"He would take my place. Planning something,
Brother mine?"
"What? No!" He grimaced. "To dark and..."
He gestured at the younger's clothes. "Backwards."
Death rolled his eyes. "The fashion is not dictated
- yours is abhorrent."
"But could you?"
"Certainly."
Life froze. "You could kill yourself?"
"No, of course not - don't be silly. I'm Death -
that's rather contradictory."
"But you-"
He sighed. "I can certainly change garments, Life -
garments." He lifted his hand and straightened his fingers,
tiugging lightly at the lace for a moment. "Were another to turn
my Blade against me, they would take my Place."
"......you can change?"
"If someone is idiotic enough and determined enough
to end me, yes." He glanced over at the lighter Shade. "But
I am hardly easy to kill."
"What about the ash?"
"My body is several millenia old - it's rather
decomposed at this point."
Life grimaced. "That's disgusting."
"You asked."
"I did - but you didn't have to be so graphic."
He frowned, and then lightly reached over and poked his brother's
arm. When nothing happened, he did it again; and then fell off the
bench in surprise when his brother's form shifted to that of a
skeleton.
Death's grin was almost feral, and immensely amused as
he pulled Life back to his feet.
"So. If you gave someone your Blade and they killed
you with it, you'd be dead. But then who's Death?"
Death tilted his head to the side. "Just what have
you been up to? You're unstable..."
Life grinned, almost as darkly as his brother. "Jelly
Beans."
Death blinked, and then dropped his head into his hands.
"You were banned from those for a reason."
Life was completely unrepentant, and turned to wander
towards the water.
"I've a good mind to let you go drown yourself..."
"I can't die!" He called back in sing-song.
Death rolled his eyes.
Life disappeared beneath the water's surface, and Death
stood, slowly walking back down the street.
Moments later, Life walked beside him again, still
frowning.
The night was quiet and quite cold - almost clammy. Life
absently rubbed his arms while his brother breathed in deeply,
relishing the weather.
"Why don't they ever adapt me?"
Death sighed again as the silence was broken. "You.
Are whining."
"But they adapt you! Poor little me.... I'm hurt."
He rolled his eyes. "You're a child."
"I'm wounded." He laid a hand over his heart
mournfully. "do they not know I exist?"
"No."
"Why not? I'm just as important as you!"
He glanced over, swinging his cane loosely. "Oh,
Brother...."
"Even our sisters have parts!"
"Whatever has prompted this?"
Life looked ahead innocently. "Prompted what?"
Death swung the cane against his brother's shins.
"Ow! What was that for! It was some human's show!"
Death rolled his eyes again. "You have nothing
better to do?"
"Horrid series."
"Did you expect else?"
Life didn't answer, and Death closed his eyes for a
moment.
Life grinned. "You love me. What would you do
without me?"
"Be at peace." He pulled out a pocket watch
and glanced at it. "Goodbye, Brother - it seems I have work."
His fingers tapped on the railing, staring out across
the water. Occasionally, the wind would blow the spray up from the
waves and he'd grimace like some cat that had gotten misted.
He had been there for a while, leaning against the
railing; and he almost missed the quiet click of the cane casually
drawing near behind him.
"Brother."
He didn't answer, still frowning at the water.
The newcomer sighed, drawing even with him and glancing
at the railing with unveiled disgust. "You have been out here
for the entire day - it is a very rare thing for Life to stand
still."
He glanced sideways, but still didn't answer.
The darker brother simply watched him, unmoving.
He finally rolled his eyes and straightened up. "How
is it possible for someone to die and then come back?"
"Generally, it involves resuscitation-"
"Repeatedly. while immortal. No resuscitation -
just resurrection."
Death blinked. "What have you been watching now,
brother?"
Life layed a hand across his heart, turning to face his
brother with a look of indignation. "I am hurt!"
"Not enough." He sighed and leaned on his cane
when Life frowned in confusion. "You clearly have not learnt
since the last time some mortal's form of entertainment posed an
existential question that your intelligence could not handle."
He pouted. "Brother.... They're fun!
So...imaginative in their -"
"They misrepresent everything. And then drive you
to the brinks of insanity." His fingers tapped around the handle
of his cane. "I wish you would leave them be."
"Where's the fun in that?"
"Where is the sanity in partaking of something you
know is only going to end in frustration and confusion for all
involved?"
"But-"
Death sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. "I
should have left you be...."
"....why did you come?"
"Because life stood still. Nothing changed. You
succeeded in stopping all things."
"That's nice! Can I-"
"You will do no such thing."
Life rolled his eyes. He turned to walk away from the
railing - Death slowly following him - when he suddenly spun back
around, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Death! Brother! I'm
bored - let's watch something."
The darker Shade faltered in his step. "I think
that there are better applications of our time. And attention. And
mental stability."
"Have you ever tried it?" He stumbled over a
crack in his path and spun around to walk forward. "Death, Death
- the things you miss..."
"I am secure in my apparent ignorance."
Life hesitated a moment, looking up as he considered
something else. "What about deaths?"
".....Please do not make me seriously question your
sanity any more than it is already my fate to do so, hm?"
"Character deaths - in books and films and series!"
"You spend entirely too much time with the humans,
brother."
"I'm still undecided about that - they are
amusing."
"So often I have heard you complain of the opposite
- speak of the heartache they cause you."
"But the stories! The imagination!"
"...the frustration and grief that these stories
cause you as well when they do not....end the way you wish?"
"That's not the point."
"If there was a shade overseeing the deaths of your
beloved fictional characters, then it would be my angel."
Life stared at him blankly.
"You asked about deaths, Life."
"Right. Of course. I knew that."
Death didn't answer.
"...aren't you the angel of death?"
"Azriel oversees dreams, Life - the worlds not
living and not dead. She is my messenger and my herald – I bring
death and ends themselves; she merely speaks of it and warns of it."
He nodded, and then began bouncing slightly again. "come
on! I think there's a screening -"
He stilled for a moment at the sudden change in topic.
"No."
"There will be Skittles!"
"I believe that i have an occupation to busy myself
with."
"I will eat all of the skittles."
Death sighed, closing his eyes. "Have you not
anyone that you may visit? You are aware that should I walk on earth
I will have to choose a host."
"....maybe we can watch it-" He fell silent as
he realised that neither could visit the other's office. He scowled.
"fine. I'll find someone else."
"Thank you."
"You only live once!"
Death stared at him. "I never lived at all."
Bonnie Life an'
Canny Death
Bonnie lass an'
canty lad -
I kenna wha are ye.
I dinna ken your
canty laugh;
Na good nor evil
see.
Mony men maun pass
this way,
An' mony men maun be
-
But I dinna ken onie
like ye:
I kenna wha are ye.
Bonnie lass an' braw
laddie -
I kenna wha are ye.
Sae lang it hae syne
I're abread,
I hae na memory.
Mony fieres an' mony
de'ils
I ken syne lang past
lee -
But I kenna when we
were acquent;
I kenna wha are ye.
Bonnie lass an'
canny lad -
I kenna wha are ye.
The bairns and kye
come back on braes,
Sair pows were unco
wee.
Muckle birkies braw
and canty
Sae unco auld maun
die.
Laith I am to still
say sae:
I kenna wha are ye.
Traveller Come Home
Darling,
Dear, mon halesome jo -
I
spiers where hae ye been?
Hae ye
tae ice, gae ye tae sand -
What
wonders hae ye seen?
I hae
tae lands I dinna ken,
I gae
where nae ane lives.
I
cannae tell ye o' my path:
Nae
sense wad it give.
Darling,
Dear mon halesome jo -
I
spiers o' ye again:
Wha
hae ye met in distant lands,
Where
nae ane else hae been?
I
kenna wha I saw therein,
Whether
for guid or e'il -
Canny
ghosts they were in passing:
I
cannae describe them weel.
Darling,
Dear, mon halesome jo -
I
spiers this ane last time:
Hae ye
onie wee news tae gie
O' a'
the years lang syne?
I saw
the world, the skies and braes -
I
dinna shy from vale.
I
cannae tell ye where I hae been:
A'
words I try maun fail.
....so???
