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View Full Version : FAQ: Why does Paris Hilton Love Middle Scots?



SkimpyMooMoo
04-01-2007, 08:25 PM
Who doesn't love Middle Scots? Other than spammers . . .


N.B. I edited a April Fool's Spam post by a <cough> beloved member in disguise and posted the following. Mod privilege, doncha know. Medievalist (http://www.absolutewrite.com/forums/member.php?u=29).

Quod Kennedy to Dunbar:

Dirtin Dunbar, quhome on blawis thow thy boist?
Pretendand the to wryte sic skaldit skrowis;
Ramowd rebald, thow fall doun att the roist,
My laureat lettres at the and I lowis;
Mandrag, mymmerkin, maid maister bot in mows,
Thrys scheild trumpir with ane threid bait goun,
Say _Deo mercy_, or I cry the doun,
And leif thy ryming, rebald, and thy rowis.

Dreid, dirtfast dearth, that thow hes dissobeyit
My cousing Quintene and my commissar,
Fantastik fule, trest weill thow salbe fleyit,
Ignorant elf, aip, owll irregular,
Skaldit skaitbird, and commoun skamelar;
Wan-fukkit funling, that natour maid ane yrle,
Baith Iohine the Ros and thow sall squeill and skirle,
And evir I heir ocht of your making mair.

Heir I put sylence to the in all pairtis,
Obey and ceis the play that thow pretendis;
Waik walidrag, and verlot of the cairtis,
Se sone thow mak my commissar amendis,
And lat him lay sax leichis on thy lendis,
Meikly in recompansing of thi scorne,
Or thow sall ban the tyme that thow wes borne,
For Kennedy to the this cedull sendis.


_Quod Dumbar to Kennedy_

Iersch brybour baird, vyle beggar with thy brattis,
Cuntbittin crawdoun Kennedy, coward of kynd,
Evill farit and dryit, as Denseman on the rattis,
Lyke as the gleddis had on thy gule snowt dynd;
Mismaid monstour, ilk mone owt of thy mynd,
Renunce, rebald, thy rymyng, thow bot royis,
Thy trechour tung hes tane ane heland strynd;
Ane lawland ers wald mak a bettir noyis.

Revin, raggit ruke, and full of rebaldrie,
Scarth fra scorpione, scaldit in scurrilitie,
I se the haltane in thy harlotrie,
And in to uthir science no thing slie,
Off every vertew voyd, as men may sie;
Quytclame clergie, and cleik to the ane club,
Ane baird blasphemar in brybrie ay to be;
For wit and wisdome ane wisp fra the may rub.

Thow speiris, dastard, gif I dar with the fecht?
Ye dagorie, dowbart, thairof haif thow no dowt!
Quhair evir we meit, thairto my hand I hecht
To red thy rebald ryming with a rowt:
Throw all Bretane it salbe blawin owt
How that thow, poysonit pelor, gal thy paikis;
With ane doig leich I schepe to gar the schowt,
And nowther to the tak knyfe, swerd, nor aix.

Thow crop and rute of traitouris tressonable,
The fathir and moder of morthour and mischeif,
Dissaitfull tyrand, with serpentis tung, unstable;
Cukcald cradoun, cowart, and commoun theif;
Thow purpest for to undo our Lordis cheif,
In Paislay, with ane poysone that wes fell,
For quhilk, brybour, yit sail thow thoill a breif;
Pelour, on the I sall it preif my sell.

Thocht I wald lie, thy frawart phisnomy
Dois manifest thy malice to all men;
Fy! tratour theif; Fy! glengoir bun, fy! fy!
Fy! feyndly front, far fowlar than ane fen.
My freyindis thow reprovit with thy pen!
Thow leis, tratour! quhilk I sall on the preif,
Suppois thy heid war armit tymis ten,
Thow sall recryat, or thy croun sall cleif.

Or thow durst move thy mynd malitius,
Thow saw the saill abone my heid up draw;
Bot Eolus full woid, and Neptunus,
Mirk and moneless, wes met with wind and waw,
And mony hundreth myle hyne cowd us blaw
By Holland, Seland, Yetland, and Northway coist,
In desert quhair we wer famist aw;
Yit come I hame, fals baird, to lay thy boist.

Thow callis the rethory with thy goldin lippis:
Na, glowrand, gaipand fule, thow art begyld,
Thow art bot gluntow with thy giltin hippis,
That for thy lounry mony a leisch hes fyld;
Wan wisaged widdefow, out of thy wit gane wyld,
Laithly and lowsy, als lathand as ane leik,
Sen thow with wirschep wald sa fane be styld,
Haill, soverane senyeour! Thy bawis hingis throw thy breik.

Forworthin fule, of all the warld reffuse,
Quhat ferly is thocht thow rejoys to flyte?
Sic eloquence as thay in Erschry use,
In sic is sett thy thraward appetyte;
Thow hes full littill feill of fair indyte:
I tak on me ane pair of Lowthiane hippis
Sall fairar Inglis mak, and mair parfyte,
Than thow can blabbar with thy Carrik lippis.

Bettir thow ganis to leid ane doig to skomer,
Pynit pykpuirs pelour, than with thy maister pingill.
Thow lay full prydles in the peis this somer,
And fane at evin for to bring hame a single,
Syne rubbit at ane uthir auid wyvis ingle;
Bot now, in winter, for purteth thow art traikit;
Thow hes na breik to latt thy ballokis gyngill;
Beg the ane club, for, baird, thow sall go naikit.

Lene larbar, loungeour, baith lowsy in lisk and lonye;
Fy! skolderit skyn, thow art bot skyre and skrumple;
For he that rostit Lawarance had thy grunye,
And he that hid Sanct Johnis ene with ane womple,
And he that dang Sanct Augustine with ane rumple,
Thy fowll front had, and he that Bartilmo flaid;
The gallowis gaipis eftir thy graceles gruntill,
As thow wald for ane haggeis, hungry gled.

Commirwald crawdoun, na man comptis the ane kers,
Sueir swappit swanky, swynekeper ay for swaittis;
Thy commissar Quintyne biddis the cum kis his ers,
He luvis nocht sic ane forlane loun of laittis;
He sayis, thow skaffis and beggis mair beir and aitis
Nor ony cripill in Karrik land abowt;
Uther pure beggaris and thow ar at debaittis,
Decrepit karlingis on Kennedy cryis owt.

Mater annuche I haif, I bid nocht fenyie,
Thocht thow, fowll trumpour, thus upoun me leid;
Corruptit carioun, he sall I cry thy senyie;
Thinkis thow nocht how thow come in grit neid,
Greitand in Galloway, lyk to ane gallow breid,
Ramand and rolpand, beggand koy and ox;
I saw the thair, in to thy wachemanis weid,
Quhilk wes nocht worth ane pair of auld gray sox.

Ersch Katherene, with thy polk breik and rilling,
Thow and thy quene, as gredy gleddis, ye gang
With polkis to mylne, and beggis baith meill and schilling;
Thair is bot lys and lang nailis yow amang:
Fowll heggirbald, for hennis thus will ye hang;
Thow hes ane perrellus face to play with lambis;
Ane thowsand kiddis, wer thay in faidis full strang,
Thy lymmerfull luke wald fle thame and thair damis.

In till ane glen thow hes, owt of repair,
Ane laithly luge that wes the lippir menis;
With the ane sowtaris wyfe, off blis als bair,
And lyk twa stalkaris steilis in cokis and hennis,
Thow plukkis the pultre, and scho pullis off the penis;
All Karrik cryis, God gif this dowsy be drownd;
And quhen thow heiris ane guse cry in the glenis,
Thow thinkis it swetar than sacrand bell of sound.

Thow Lazarus, thow laithly lene tramort,
To all the warld thow may example be,
To luk upoun thy gryslie peteous port,
For hiddowis, haw, and holkit is thyne ee;
Thy cheik bane bair, and blaiknit is thy ble;
Thy choip, thy choll, garris men for to leif chest;
Thy gane it garris us think that we mon de:
I conjure the, thow hungert heland gaist.

The larbar lukis of thy lang lene craig,
Thy pure pynit thrott, peilit and owt of ply,
Thy skolderit skin, hewd lyk ane saffrone bag,
Garris men dispyt thar flesche, thow Spreit of Gy:
Fy! feyndly front; fy! tykis face, fy! fy!
Ay loungand, lyk ane loikman on ane ledder;
With hingit luik ay wallowand upone wry,
Lyke to ane stark theif glowrand in ane tedder.

Nyse nagus, nipcaik, with thy schulderis narrow,
Thow lukis lowsy, loun of lownis aw;
Hard hurcheoun, hirpland, hippit as ane harrow,
Thy rigbane rattillis, and thy ribbis on raw,
Thy hanchis hirklis with hukebanis harth and haw,
Thy laithly lymis are lene as ony treis;
Obey, theif baird, or I sall brek thy gaw,
Fowll carrybald, cry mercy on thy kneis.

Thow purehippit, ugly averill,
With hurkland banis, holkand throw thy hyd,
Reistit and crynit as hangitman on hill,
And oft beswakkit with ane ourhie tyd,
Quhilk brewis mekle barret to thy bryd;
Hir cair is all to clenge thy cabroch howis,
Quhair thow lyis sawsy in saphron, bak and syd,
Powderit with prymros, savrand all with clowis.

Forworthin wirling, I warne the it is wittin,
How, skyttand skarth, thow hes the hurle behind;
Wan wraiglane wasp, ma wormis hes thow beschittin
Nor thair is gers on grund or leif on lind;
Thocht thow did first sic foly to my fynd,
Thow sall agane with ma witnes than I;
Thy gulsoch gane dois on thy back it bind,
Thy hostand hippis lattis nevir thy hos go dry.

Thow held the burch lang with ane borrowit goun,
And ane caprowsy barkit all with sweit,
And quhen the laidis saw the sa lyk a loun,
Thay bickerit the with mony bae and bleit:
Now upaland thow leivis on rubbit quheit,
Oft for ane caus thy burdclaith neidis no spredding,
For thow hes nowthir for to drink nor eit,
Bot lyk ane berdles baird that had no bedding.

Strait Gibbonis air, that nevir ourstred ane hors,
Bla berfute berne, in bair tyme wes thow borne;
Thow bringis the Carrik clay to Edinburgh Cors
Upoun thy botingis, hobland, hard as horne;
Stra wispis hingis owt, quhair that the wattis ar worne:
Cum thow agane to skar us with thy strais,
We sall gar scale our sculls all the to scorne,
And stane the up the calsay quhair thow gals.

Off Edinburch the boyis as beis owt thrawis,
And cryis owt ay, "Heir cumis our awin queir Clerk!"
Than fleis thow lyk ane howlat chest with crawis,
Quhill all the bichis at thy botingis dois bark:
Than carlingis cryis, "Keip curches in the merk,
Our gallowis gaipis; lo! quhair ane greceles gais."
Ane uthir sayis, "I se him want ane sark,
I reid yow, cummer, tak in your lynning clair."

Than rynis thow doun the gait with gild of boyis,
And all the toun tykis hingand in thy heilis;
Of laidis and lownis thair rysis sic ane noyis,
Quhill runsyis rynis away with cairt and quheilis,
And cager aviris castis bayth coillis and creilis,
For rerd of the and rattling of thy butis;
Fische wyvis cryis, Fy! and castis doun skulls and skeilis;
Sum claschis the, sum cloddis the on the cutis.

Loun lyk Mahoun, be boun me till obey,
Theif, or in greif mischeif sall the betyd;
Cry grace, tykis face, or I the chece and sley;
Oule, rare and yowle, I sall defowll thy pryd;
Peilet gled, baith fed and bred of bichis syd,
And lyk ane tyk, purspyk, quhat man settis by the!
Forflittin, countbittin, beschittin, barkit hyd,
Clym ledder, fyle tedder, foule edder, I defy the.

Mauch muttoun, byt buttoun, peilit gluttoun, air to Hilhous;
Rank beggar, ostir dregar, foule fleggar in the flet;
Chittirlilling, ruch rilling, lik schilling in the milhous;
Baird rehator, theif of natour, fats tratour, feyindis gett;
Filling of tauch, rak sauch, cry crauch, thow art our sett;
Muttoun dryver, girnall ryver, yadswyvar, fowll fell the:
Herretyk, lunatyk, purspyk, carlingis pet,
Rottin crok, dirtin dok, cry cok, or I sall quell the.


From The Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy William Dunbar

McDuff
04-01-2007, 09:04 PM
To arouse is, indeed, to moisten. Well said, young sir.

James D. Macdonald
04-01-2007, 10:44 PM
All the elders o' the kirk that were too auld tae firk....

Medievalist
04-01-2007, 10:46 PM
All the elders o' the kirk that were too auld tae firk....

I knew you'd find this. If you translate it, MacAllister will flay me.

Have mercy, sir, and pray that Hapi Sofi is otherwise occupied.

Mom'sWrite
04-01-2007, 10:51 PM
All the elders o' the kirk that were too auld tae firk....

Uncle Jamie!

Kentuk
04-01-2007, 11:11 PM
Ok who is this masked stranger?

Dawno
04-01-2007, 11:12 PM
Uncle Jim's new avatar is very scary - so realistic!

Medievalist
04-01-2007, 11:12 PM
After said miscreant was subjected to modly poetic unmasking, and banning, I edited the post :D

Never mess with a medievalist; we know lots of scurrilous poetry.

PeeDee
04-02-2007, 12:39 AM
You mods go too far! SkimpyMooMoo was a caring, and kind individual!

Medievalist
04-02-2007, 12:42 AM
SkimpyMooMoo, like StickyBunBun, was a low-life PHENTERMINE addict.

PeeDee
04-02-2007, 12:44 AM
THAT'S NOT TRUE.

ALL the Lurkers are mad at YOU GUYS for banning them! They were revolutionaries! They spoke against tyranny! They understood how life was!

*sniffle* They...they told it like it was...

James D. Macdonald
04-02-2007, 12:55 AM
I knew you'd find this. If you translate it, MacAllister will flay me.


Translate? Why does this need translation? It's pretty straightforward Middle-Scots.

Now if someone'd posted The Libel of Scotland ...

Medievalist
04-02-2007, 12:59 AM
Translate? Why does this need translation? It's pretty straightforward Middle-Scots.

Now if someone'd posted The Libel of Scotland ...

:D

I was, briefly, tempted to post some of the lesser known works of John Oldham, but I'm saving that for the Mods . . .

Carrie in PA
04-02-2007, 01:57 AM
THAT'S NOT TRUE.

ALL the Lurkers are mad at YOU GUYS for banning them! They were revolutionaries! They spoke against tyranny! They understood how life was!

*sniffle* They...they told it like it was...


I got like 75 emails saying how MAD people were that they were banned. It's a travesty!

James D. Macdonald
04-02-2007, 02:50 AM
Ye brek my hairt, my bony ane.

PeeDee
04-02-2007, 02:57 AM
Your bony WHAT?

Carrie in PA
04-02-2007, 03:05 AM
Your bony WHAT?

His bony ass. That's Scottish for ass.

PeeDee
04-02-2007, 03:06 AM
So naming your daughter "Ane" would be a wretched idea...

I didn't know the Scots had a language. I thought they just swore in a sentence structure.

Medievalist
04-02-2007, 03:59 AM
So naming your daughter "Ane" would be a wretched idea...

I didn't know the Scots had a language. I thought they just swore in a sentence structure.

Och, lad, yer a damned sassenach.

Carrie in PA
04-02-2007, 04:11 AM
Och, lad, yer a damned sassenach.


What's BigFoot got to do with this?





:roll:

HapiSofi
04-02-2007, 04:34 AM
I knew you'd find this. If you translate it, MacAllister will flay me.

Have mercy, sir, and pray that Hapi Sofi is otherwise occupied.
HapiSofi reads thilke scurrilitie for fun, but has more sense than to try to translate it into Modern English. We don't have anything to match their descriptive vocabulary.

MacAllister
04-02-2007, 04:58 AM
And MacAllister has much better sense than to interfere when the very brightest and most wonderful people she knows converge to play in the FAQs. :D

James D. Macdonald
04-02-2007, 05:42 AM
As I gaed in be FAQs
In the dawns lyghting
I spied Medievalist
Posting Dunbar's flyting
"Turn ageyn, turn ageyn,
Turn ageny I pray the
For if ye oerset thes wordis
MacAllister will fley me."
"Fley the or flyte the,
That schall neuver let me
I schall overset thes wordis
Whatcha wanna bet me?"

As I gaed in be FAQs
On an Abrill evening
I speid Medievalist
As Hapisof was leaving.
"Crawin, crawin, for a yer crows crawin
I hae overset thin wordis
An MacAllister I'm shawin."

HapiSofi
04-02-2007, 05:45 AM
All that while sober. I stand in awe.

Medievalist
04-02-2007, 05:51 AM
I'm just gob-smacked, and thrawn, to boot.

Medievalist
04-02-2007, 10:18 AM
And MacAllister has much better sense than to interfere when the very brightest and most wonderful people she knows converge to play in the FAQs. :D

Och, aye, a braw, bonnie, gey canny lass, the MacAllister.

dub
05-12-2007, 09:21 PM
Where they are sending Paris, the Scots have little to worry about, although I hear that, in the unit, "big mama" has a thing for thin women....nuf said

Bufty
07-15-2007, 07:25 PM
Hmmmm.

Fas pichin frickles oot ma brichles?
Hae ye nae got sauslin fen?
Frae a tha bruelin dinna ken
Tae Mac's and Jimmy's thrickles!

Boom! Boom!

Ooops! Thread's been dead for two months!!

Medievalist
07-15-2007, 07:54 PM
Nae, my peepers are peeled.

KrishnaJewel
02-09-2008, 06:57 AM
och aye, its good to see ones national tongue being appreciated. :)

robeiae
05-14-2008, 05:19 AM
I'd like to see Haggis squeegee RT into his doggie dish.

robeiae
05-14-2008, 05:36 AM
And btw, I prefer Hyatts...

Cranky
05-14-2008, 05:44 AM
*comes into thread to point and laugh*

robeiae
05-14-2008, 05:47 AM
I feel like RT's "man's bag."

(it's European)

mscelina
05-14-2008, 05:48 AM
oh my goodness...

BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA

Cranky
05-14-2008, 05:51 AM
I feel like RT's "man's bag."

(it's European)

Well, that's what HE told you, anyway. :D

Shadow_Ferret
05-14-2008, 11:39 PM
WHy did I click on this thread? I have no idea what's being said.

Or why.

choppersmom
05-15-2008, 01:58 AM
You don't need to know why. It's like asking what the lyrics to "China Cat Sunflower" mean. If you have to ask, you'll never get it.

Gary O' Connor
01-12-2009, 01:55 AM
no idea

scarletpeaches
01-12-2009, 02:00 AM
Och, aye, a braw, bonnie, gey canny lass, the MacAllister.

That made me cry.

And not in a good way.

:(

roncouch
01-13-2009, 12:03 AM
The Middle-Scots looks a lot like Middle-English, as I recall from some of Chaucer's Tales.