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Thare is na time that wull nae come again
Th’ stoor o’ ages weightless winds huv spread
Howfur git back ‘ere ah cannae ken

Oor bairn’s a mon tae quickly grown frae grain
‘n’ we noo wear th’ masks o’ parents deid
Howfur made it ‘ere ah cannae ken

Ah track oor years by pathways thro’ th’ glens
‘n’ loue ye mair than ever cuid be said
Howfur git back ‘ere ah cannae ken

Th’ seasons wi’ thair changes come ‘n’ then
print upon th’ freish genetic treads.
Thare is na time that wull nae come again

Thae trees wha’s totem beauty time disdains
climb thro’ space tae light whaur thay ur fed
Howfur git back ‘ere ah cannae ken

In time a’ Hielands fall upon th’ plain
‘n’ ragin` floods wi’ mortal blood run rid
Thare is na time that wull nae come again.
But howfur  git tae ‘ere, ah cannae ken.

© Neil Fawcett 2013


Hello all, welcome to Friday.

Our winner is this frankly stunning piece by Neil Fawcett. It was a hard process, the pieces were all of a high calibre. This piece has a great use of vernacular and a lovely circular narrative to it. A bit more about the author:

Neil is a poet writing from a freezing shed at the bottom of his Stockport garden. He hails from a long line of Edinburgh Ritchie’s on his mother’s side, and this poem, in part, tells the story of his great grandparent’s departure from their homeland.

Neil is currently studying for an MA in poetry at the Manchester Writing School under the tutelage of Carol Anne Duffy and regularly performs his work in and around Manchester. He has also had a number of poems published online, in the local press and in The Best of Manchester Poets anthology.

We feel that this piece is truly in the spirit of Robert Burns, and on this most auspicious of nights, we wish you all well. Now, time for a plate of haggis and some whisky. Happy Burns Night, everyone.