The Rhynie Man is a pictish stone carving of a fierce man with sharp teeth and an axe which was ploughed up in 1978 at a farm at Barflat, Rhynie. (A good description can be found here http://www.aberdeenshire.gov.uk/archaeology/sites/pictish/rhynie.pdf)
Now I always wondered why The Rhynie Man was so angry looking, until I heard a couple of neighbours arguing one night and was inspired to write the following poem.
THE RHYNIE WIFE
- by Pauline Cordiner
He bade up there on the Hill at Rhynie:
A fearsome giant that wis far fae tiny!
He wiz 12 ft tall, or mair, I’d say
And he reeked of stale sweat and decay
It could be said that his farts smelt like death
But that wis nithin when compared tae his breath!
For a’ hopes of dental hygiene were lost
For the Rhynie man never, ever flossed.
His stinkin feet were a sicht tae be seen
The corns and the bunions were jist obscene
And a terrible insult to anyone’s nose
And he had puir squished sheepies between his toes!
He’d stomp a’ roond the surrounding land
Wi a great bloody axe hud in his haund
Wi’ his sharpened teeth and his tangled beard
For miles around, this giant wiz feared.
First they’d smell him coming for his stench was foul
And then they’d hear him stomp and they’d hear him growl
And alarms would be raised down in Rhynie village
That the Rhynie man had come to pillage
The villagers would run and try to hide
But couldnae, nae matter how they tried
For he’d smash right through the cottage roofs
(For thatching isnae giant proof)
And then he’d grab fitiver he’d want
That’s how this giant made his hunt
He’d take their sheep and he’d tak their food
And he’d terrorize the neighbourhood!
The corn he’d ran aff wi, the neeps he had thieved
Til the bairns in the village were hungry and peeved
He’d ta’en mair than they could afford tae lose
Until a’ that wis left wis twa boney coos
Now ab’dy wundered why he stole so much food
And why he aye ga’ed aroon in sich a bad mood
Until a great howlin’ cry which they a heard one day
Let slip the secret and gave it away!
This scream could be heard fer miles aroon,
In Alford, Kennethmont and in Huntly toon
In Insch ye could hear it, Monymusk and Premnay
Even a wee murmur, way aff in Kemnay!
A screeching ogress’s cry – high pitched (not a tenor)
Bellowed out “I’M HUNGRY! NOO FAR’S MA DENNER!????”
And they all knew the reason for Rhynie Man’s strife
For he’d gotten himself a Rhynie Wife!
A terrible wumman aye greeting and grumblin’
Wi a stomach so huge, it was ayeways rumblin’
And she nagged him, and beat him, The Rhynie Man
Though he tried as best as any man can
He’d cook for her sheepies: boiled, roasted and fried,
But her stomach was never satisfied!
Still she’d hit him and he’d yell out for his mummy
And his cries could be heard, far off in Kildrummy!
His family had warned him over and over
That no self respecting giant should marry an ogre…
But marry her he did, and how she’s his wife
And he’ll have to put up with her for the rest of his life
And so off he goes, once again, doon tae Rhynie village
Where to feed his giant wife he must plunder and pillage
I Feel sorry for him and his ogress quinie
The tormented, hen-pecked Giant of Rhynie
Now I always wondered why The Rhynie Man was so angry looking, until I heard a couple of neighbours arguing one night and was inspired to write the following poem.
THE RHYNIE WIFE
- by Pauline Cordiner
He bade up there on the Hill at Rhynie:
A fearsome giant that wis far fae tiny!
He wiz 12 ft tall, or mair, I’d say
And he reeked of stale sweat and decay
It could be said that his farts smelt like death
But that wis nithin when compared tae his breath!
For a’ hopes of dental hygiene were lost
For the Rhynie man never, ever flossed.
His stinkin feet were a sicht tae be seen
The corns and the bunions were jist obscene
And a terrible insult to anyone’s nose
And he had puir squished sheepies between his toes!
He’d stomp a’ roond the surrounding land
Wi a great bloody axe hud in his haund
Wi’ his sharpened teeth and his tangled beard
For miles around, this giant wiz feared.
First they’d smell him coming for his stench was foul
And then they’d hear him stomp and they’d hear him growl
And alarms would be raised down in Rhynie village
That the Rhynie man had come to pillage
The villagers would run and try to hide
But couldnae, nae matter how they tried
For he’d smash right through the cottage roofs
(For thatching isnae giant proof)
And then he’d grab fitiver he’d want
That’s how this giant made his hunt
He’d take their sheep and he’d tak their food
And he’d terrorize the neighbourhood!
The corn he’d ran aff wi, the neeps he had thieved
Til the bairns in the village were hungry and peeved
He’d ta’en mair than they could afford tae lose
Until a’ that wis left wis twa boney coos
Now ab’dy wundered why he stole so much food
And why he aye ga’ed aroon in sich a bad mood
Until a great howlin’ cry which they a heard one day
Let slip the secret and gave it away!
This scream could be heard fer miles aroon,
In Alford, Kennethmont and in Huntly toon
In Insch ye could hear it, Monymusk and Premnay
Even a wee murmur, way aff in Kemnay!
A screeching ogress’s cry – high pitched (not a tenor)
Bellowed out “I’M HUNGRY! NOO FAR’S MA DENNER!????”
And they all knew the reason for Rhynie Man’s strife
For he’d gotten himself a Rhynie Wife!
A terrible wumman aye greeting and grumblin’
Wi a stomach so huge, it was ayeways rumblin’
And she nagged him, and beat him, The Rhynie Man
Though he tried as best as any man can
He’d cook for her sheepies: boiled, roasted and fried,But her stomach was never satisfied!
Still she’d hit him and he’d yell out for his mummy
And his cries could be heard, far off in Kildrummy!
His family had warned him over and over
That no self respecting giant should marry an ogre…
But marry her he did, and how she’s his wife
And he’ll have to put up with her for the rest of his life
And so off he goes, once again, doon tae Rhynie village
Where to feed his giant wife he must plunder and pillage
I Feel sorry for him and his ogress quinie
The tormented, hen-pecked Giant of Rhynie
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The AU Storytelling Society
best,
Storyquine