First Gemme
Stair Park, a cal December eftirnin, Stranraer, at hame tae the micht of Forfar. A’m nae mair than echt years al, an clingin tae ma Granfether’s han, stampin the glar o mud an ash in an effort tae keep warm. ‘They’re a team o triers, son, a team o triers. Ye can ask nae mair’, his heed floatin on a sea o pipe smoke, his een gleamin as he took the gemme in. Stranraer won, twa nil. ‘First gemme, eh, ye’re ma lucky mascot.’ He bent doon, wrapped me in his scarf. ‘A wee vic’try, son, jist a wee vict’ry.’ He spoke slow, so that A could unnnerstan. Granda, A miss yer voice, A miss yer han.
Derek Ross
100 Favourite Scottish Football Poems, edited by Alistair Findlay (Luath Press, 2007)
Poem supplied courtesy of the Scottish Poetry Library |