Modern Scots: An Analytical Survey 9781474416887

Citation preview

Modern Scots

Edinburgh Textbooks on the English Language – Advanced General Editor Heinz Giegerich, Professor of English Linguistics, University of Edinburgh Editorial Board Laurie Bauer (University of Wellington) Olga Fischer (University of Amsterdam) Willem Hollmann (Lancaster University) Rochelle Lieber (University of New Hampshire) Bettelou Los (University of Edinburgh) Robert McColl Millar (University of Aberdeen) Donka Minkova (UCLA) Edgar Schneider (University of Regensburg) titles in the series include :

A Critical Account of English Syntax: Grammar, Meaning, Text Keith Brown and Jim Miller English Historical Semantics Christian Kay and Kathryn Allan A Historical Syntax of English Bettelou Los Morphological Theory and the Morphology of English Jan Don Construction Grammar and its Application to English Martin Hilpert A Historical Phonology of English Donka Minkova English Historical Pragmatics Andreas Jucker and Irma Taavitsainen English Historical Sociolinguistics Robert McColl Millar Corpus Linguistics and the Description of English Hans Lindquist Contemporary Stylistics: Language, Cognition, Interpretation Alison Gibbons and Sara Whiteley Modern Scots: An Analytical Survey Robert McColl Millar Visit the Edinburgh Textbooks in the English Language website at www.edinburghuniversitypress.com/series/etoteladvanced

Modern Scots An Analytical Survey Robert McColl Millar

Edinburgh University Press is one of the leading university presses in the UK. We publish academic books and journals in our selected subject areas across the humanities and social sciences, combining cutting-edge scholarship with high editorial and production values to produce academic works of lasting importance. For more information visit our website: edinburghuniversitypress.com © Robert McColl Millar, 2018 Edinburgh University Press Ltd The Tun – Holyrood Road, 12(2f) Jackson’s Entry, Edinburgh EH8 8PJ Typeset in 10.5/12 Janson by Servis Filmsetting Ltd, Stockport, Cheshire, and printed and bound in Great Britain A CIP record for this book is available from the British Library ISBN 978 1 4744 1686 3 (hardback) ISBN 978 1 4744 1687 0 (paperback) ISBN 978 1 4744 1688 7 (webready PDF) ISBN 978 1 4744 1689 4 (epub) The right of Robert McColl Millar to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, and the Copyright and Related Rights Regulations 2003 (SI No. 2498).

Contents

Acknowledgementsviii Some preliminariesix 1 Scots: languages and cultures, peoples and lands 1 1.1 Introduction 1 1.2 Is Scots a language?1 1.3 History of Scots 3 1.4 The dialects of Scots 11 1.5 Geography, culture and politics 17 1.6 Brief description of this book 23 Exercise24 2 Resources 2.1 Introduction 2.2 Dictionaries and word lists 2.3 Archival material and dialect atlases 2.4 Electronic corpora 2.5 Bibliographies 2.6 Book-­length scholarly treatments of Scots 2.7 Conclusion

25 25 25 28 29 31 31 32

3 Phonology 33 3.1 Introduction 33 3.2 How do we analyse pronunciation in Scotland systematically?34 3.3 The phonologies of the Scots dialects 38 3.4 Consonantal systems 88 3.5 Conclusion 95 Exercises96

vi

modern scots

4 Lexis 97 4.1 Introduction 97 4.2 The sources of Scots vocabulary 99 4.3 Geography and lexical use 104 4.4 Geographical distribution following the Linguistic Atlas of Scotland123 4.5 Distribution of meaning: a thesaurus-­based approach 127 4.6 Lexical change and attrition 134 4.7 Conclusion 138 Exercises138 5 Structure: the grammar of Modern Scots 139 5.1 Grammar and linguistic difference 139 5.2 Sources for information and analytical outlook 140 5.3 The noun phrase 141 5.4 Verb system 152 5.5 Conclusion 158 Exercises159 6 Scots used creatively: literature and beyond 160 6.1 Introduction 160 6.2 Scots in an English prose context 160 6.3 Scottish prose wholly in Scots 168 6.4 Scots in poetry 171 6.5 Drama 182 6.6 Scots in the press 184 6.7 Ulster Scots in literature 186 6.8 Written Scots beyond the Scots-­speaking world 190 6.9 Conclusion 191 Exercises191 7 The sociolinguistics of Scots 192 7.1 Introduction 192 7.2 Urban vs. rural 192 7.3 Education and language 195 7.4 Attitudes and awareness 198 7.5 Language policy and planning 199 7.6 Ulster Scots: language status, policy and planning 211 7.7 Some final thoughts 213 Exercises213

McCOLL PRINT.indd 6

26/02/2018 13:14



contents vii

8 Scots: a once and future language? 8.1 The future 8.2 Some final thoughts: Nec tamen consumebatur

215 215 218

Bibliography Index

220 229

Acknowledgements

My thanks are due for help and advice over the years and in recent times to Patrick Barbier, Will Barras, Toby Bernstein, Lisa Marie Bonnici, Susana Calvo, John Corbett, Patrick Crotty, Janet Cruickshank, Holly Daykin, Rob Dunbar, Mercedes Durham, Elspeth Edelstein, Frank Ferguson, Matthew Fitt, Anna Havinga, Dauvit Horsbroch, Paul Johnston, Kerry Karam, the late Christian Kay, John Kirk, Dawn Leslie, Alison Lumsden, Ragnhild Ljosland, Barbara Loester, Caroline Macafee, Derrick McClure, Seumas Macdonald, Delia McEwen, Tom McKean, Iseabail Macleod, Wilson McLeod, Sandra McRae, Warren Maguire, Lydia Makin, Evgenia Massie, Gunnel Melchers, Sheena Middleton, Steve Murdoch, the late Bill Nicolaisen, Colm Ó Baoill, Oli Rainford, the late Stanley Robertson, Patience Schell, Annika Simonsen, the late Seumas Simpson, Jeremy Smith and Peter Sundkvist. I am, of course, the sole author of any errors or infelicities. I am also grateful for the critique and encouragement given by the anonymous reader of this volume. I am, as ever, thankful for the support and tolerance provided by Heinz Giegerich as editor of this series and Laura Williamson of EUP. The good thief is ©Tom Leonard from outside the narrative: Poems 1965–2009 Etruscan Books/WordPower 2009; ‘Lament for a Lost Dinner Ticket’ by Margaret Hamilton is used by kind permission of Nora Hunter I would like to pay tribute to all of my family and their language use, in particular my dear grannie, Lizzie Stewart (Elizabeth Jamieson, 1896–1976). Her use of Scots as her everyday language was combined with an ability to analyse how it worked. She was able to transmit at least some of this ability and love to me, along with the tongue. Finally, my thanks and love go to Sandra and Mairi. At the end of every project I am reminded that I would still be at its inception if it were not for them. This book is dedicated to them both.

viii

Some preliminaries

0.1 Introduction

This short book is designed to achieve a number of interlocking purposes. In the first instance it is intended to give you a sense of the structure, sounds and vocabulary of Scots as it is spoken and written by people in Scotland and the northernmost counties of Ireland. It is also intended to encourage you to think about Scots as a living entity which can be profitably studied in exactly the same way as any language. I hope that by the end of your use of the book you will have gained a greater sense of Scots as a living entity, the ongoing threats to its discrete existence, the great diversity of language use in Scotland and Ulster and the ways in which your knowledge of these contexts can be expanded to provide comparison with other language situations elsewhere in the world. I have envisaged the book as a whole, to be read and used consecutively. You need not follow this pattern, however. You may, for instance, wish to consider the structure of the language before you look at its lexis. This is absolutely fine. There are occasional assumptions made in the book that you already know about a particular pattern or idea when you are reading about something else; I have provided cross-­references on those occasions where I feel that the connection is particularly vital. I recommend, however, that you read Chapter 1 before looking at other parts of the book, since it may give you some grounding in the issues raised. 0.2  The description and analysis of pronunciation

Throughout this book, but particularly in Chapter 3, a considerable amount of IPA (International Phonetic Alphabet) notation is used. I realise that many of you will have had some experience in using this vital resource. If that is the case, you can ignore this section and proceed to the rest of the book. If, however, you have no such background, it ix

x

modern scots

would make sense if you read the next few pages and consider them alongside the diagrams given. A number of online resources exist which allow you to hear the different sounds discussed in the following and elsewhere. The most useful of these may be since this presents symbols alongside precise recordings of the particular sounds. You may also find a range of written resources useful. These include McMahon (2002), which begins essentially from first principles, and the classic survey of phonetics, Ladefoged and Johnson (2011). This latter is quite advanced, however. With a few exceptions, all human beings can make all the sounds that humans make. Not all of these sounds are meaningful for every particular language, however. Most speakers of English do not distinguish between the sounds [k] (as in lock) and [x] (as in loch). They can hear the difference (the first sound is a plosive, made with a closure by the tongue and then expulsion of air, while the second sound is a fricative, where turbulent air passes between the tongue and a specific place in the mouth), but it is not meaningful. They are perceived as allophones of the same phoneme, /k/. In Scotland and the far north of Ireland, however, /k/ and /x/ are perceived as separate phonemes.1 In English (and Scots) all consonants are produced by air coming up from the lungs, this air passing through a number of occlusions and vibrations which alter the sound. Sounds can be pronounced either only in the mouth or through opening the nasal cavity (compare /b/ and /m/). A consonant pronounced in the mouth can either be voiced or unvoiced, depending on whether the vocal folds (vocal cords) are vibrating or not (to test this, say the sound /p/ and then /b/ while touching your ‘Adam’s apple’). Where the tongue is placed affects how the consonant is pronounced. In English, consonants can be formed on the velum (the soft palate), further forward on the hard palate (both these zones are often termed palatal), the alveolar ridge towards the front of the mouth, on the teeth or, indeed, between the teeth. Sounds can also be labial, when pronounced on the lips. Combinations, such as the labio-­dental sounds /f/ and /v/ (pronounced between the teeth and the lips), are also possible. On these occasions there is an interaction between lips and teeth. The glottis (at the back of the mouth) is used to pronounce /h/ and the glottal stop [ʔ], as found as the medial consonant in many Scottish pronunciations of butter. Consonants can be plosive (where air is stopped and then released explosively; these sounds are sometimes termed stops). Examples of plosives are /p/ and /g/, among others. They can also be fricatives (where



some preliminaries xi

turbulent air passed through a tight closure in the mouth). /f/ and /Θ/ (the sound in English thin) are fricatives. Approximants are similar sounds to fricatives, but the mouth is more open. An example of an approximant is /w/. Many English speakers – although perhaps fewer in Scotland – pronounce their /r/ as an approximant. Nasal sounds are pronounced with the nasal cavity open, although the nature of the consonant is still connected to the position of the tongue in the mouth: /m/ and /n/ are nasals. Affricates are sounds made up of a plosive and a fricative, which are perceived as single sounds by native speakers. The English (and Scots) affricates are /tʃ/ (church) and /dʒ/ (judge). Other languages may have other affricate combinations; these will be heard as two independent sounds by English speakers. In order to understand how vowels are pronounced, imagine your mouth as a quadrilateral. At the front of the mouth, the upper corner of the quadrilateral is significantly further forward than is the case at the bottom (because of the position of your teeth). Different vowel sounds are pronounced depending on where your tongue is within this space. When the tongue is at the top of the mouth, it is said to be high or closed: this can be heard in the vowel in seek; the lower down in the mouth the tongue is, the more open it is: this can be heard in the pronunciation of the vowel in caught (if you are a user of Received Pronunciation (RP) or a related South-­East of England accent, you will have an even lower vowel in your pronunciation of bath). Vowels can be pronounced at the front of the mouth (as with day), in the centre (as with the unstressed second vowel in butter; in most varieties of English spoken outside Scotland, fir has a central vowel) or at the back (as with goat). Vowels can be rounded or unrounded (this refers to whether the lips are rounded or not when the sound is being made). As Figure 0.1 demonstrates, at least most places where a vowel can be pronounced offer the opportunity of either rounded or unrounded pronunciations (the vowels on the left

Figure 0.1  Vowel quadrilateral.

xii

modern scots

are the former). The vowel in boat is rounded, while the vowel in cat is unrounded. Unlike many languages, English does not normally have pairings of rounded and unrounded vowels pronounced in the same place in the mouth; a number of dialects of Scots have at least traces of such a pattern, however, as we will see in Chapter 3. Vowels can be diphthongal (or, indeed, triphthongal, although that does not concern us here), where two vowels glide together (such as the vowel found in ride), or monophthongal, where only one vowel sound is made (as with the vowel in cat in most pronunciations of English). As we will see in Chapter 4 and elsewhere in this book, varieties of Scots (and indeed Scottish Standard English) are less likely to have diphthongs than most varieties of English. For many (not all) of the latter, boat has a diphthongal vowel. This is very rarely the case for Scottish varieties, where the historical monophthongal pronunciation has been maintained (conversely, as we will see, most Scots varieties (and Scottish Standard English) have an extra diphthong – found in bite as compared to try – where most English varieties have only one pronunciation for both sets). Nasal vowels (vowels where the nasal cavity is open when the sound is made) can be found in a range of languages – French, Portuguese and Polish spring to mind – but are not established as perceived separate sounds in any of the varieties discussed here, exceptions being the use of nasal vowels by some speakers when using a French word such as genre. This has been learned later in life with some effort; most English-­ speaking people, when attempting this vowel, tend not to be entirely successful in producing the ‘authentic’ pronunciation. This does not mean that some of the people whose language use is described in this book do not have more nasalised vowel pronunciations than do others; these differences are not perceived as actual distinctions between separate sounds by native speakers, however. It should be noted that no speaker of any language variety will ever perceive all of the vowel sounds possible for all humans as separate vowels. Instead, she will hear some vowel sounds as being part of the set of another vowel, while others may not be recognised at all. 0.3  A final point

Of course, I have my own views about what should be done for Scots in Scotland and Ireland. On occasion I have expressed these views in this book – particularly when discussing language planning and policy in Chapter 7. I wish to stress that these are opinions, however. I do not expect you to agree with me; nor do I believe that there is only one way to achieve a goal. I do believe, however, that a degree of critical thought



some preliminaries xiii

needs to be applied to these topics and that the issues involved should be analysed thoroughly. I also, of course, have my own views on the present and future constitutional status of Scotland and its position in Europe. I hope I have kept these in the background, however. It is possible to be a speaker, writer, reader, or student, of Scots, while subscribing to any or no political view. In particular, I would like to stress that I have no axe to grind in relation to the present or future constitutional settlement in Ireland. Again, I have my own views on this (no doubt not as well informed or visceral as for my own country), but these have not informed the analysis here. Note

1. The use of square brackets when discussing pronunciations implies that the description is phonetic. Slanted brackets imply that the sound involved is a phoneme in that variety. In English, for instance, the phoneme /p/ has allophones underlying it, such as [p] and [ph] (the latter involving aspiration, a ‘breathy’ sound following the plosive). Although English speakers may be aware of the difference between the two pronunciations, it is not perceived as categorical. In Gaelic, however, these two sounds constitute separate phonemes. In this book, phonetic description and discussion will be severely limited; there will be occasions, however, where descriptions of this type will be both helpful and necessary.

1  Scots: languages and

cultures, peoples and lands

1.1 Introduction

Before we begin our discussion of Scots as a system, it is necessary to develop a knowledge base related to the geography, culture and politics of Scotland and Ulster. Much is assumed in later chapters in relation to the connections and patterns discussed here. What is given here is not, however, intended to be the last word on the subjects covered; it should provide a basis of what is necessary for such a description, however. The same is essentially true for the initial section of the chapter, which is concerned with establishing an understanding of the distinctions between the different dialects of Scots. After reading this you will have considerable understanding of these distinctions; the information given, however, is designed to represent an invitation to the further analyses and descriptions provided in later chapters. A brief history of Scots is also provided, since this will aid your full comprehension of a number of the issues raised in the later chapters of the book – no language variety exists in a vacuum, linguistic or otherwise. Before any of this is done, however, we need to address a vexed question: can we truly say that Scots is a language? 1.2  Is Scots a language?

Throughout this book I have used the word language to refer to Scots. I have done so consciously but with a degree of qualification. I am aware that many of you would be more comfortable analysing Scots as a dialect, or as dialects, of English. The distinction between one interpretation and the other is, in fact, more complex, confusing and, indeed, vexed than many supporters of either view would admit. As we will see, Scots historically was as much a separate language from English in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries as Dutch was in relation to German. The dialectalisation under English Scots has gone through since these 1

2

modern scots

times has left its mark, not least in the universal comprehension of English in Scotland and the creation of Scottish Standard English in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, as discussed below. Scots in many senses has the same relationship to Standard English as, for instance, Appalachian English has. But only in some senses: Scots continues to be written for ‘serious’ purposes and can be a very potent symbol of nationhood. The outcome of these contradictions and the future prospects of Scots will be dealt with in the last chapters of this book. 1.2.1 Dialectalisation

Across Europe – indeed, across the world – a number of language varieties exist which were once considered discrete languages or which have the potential of becoming discrete languages in the future. At present, however, these varieties are dialectalised under a neighbouring variety, associated with political, economic and cultural power. This powerful variety and the dialectalised variety are kin-­tongues: they are closely related linguistically, so closely related in fact that a degree of mutual intelligibility is often possible between them, particularly if speakers of one variety are literate in the other (see Kloss 1967, 1978, 1984; Millar 2005). Examples of this phenomenon include Low German (in relation to (High) German), Occitan (in relation to French) and Sardinian (in relation to Italian). The actual processes by which these varieties became dialectalised naturally differ from place to place. A central truth can still be recognised, however. Language status, the sense that a language is a discrete entity with – in a highly literate age – a standardised written form generally supported by educational and bureaucratic systems, is inherently temporary. Nor is dialectalisation a permanent state, as languages such as Catalan have demonstrated in the last 100 years. The route back from dialectalisation is treacherous, however, when the dominant close relative is associated strongly with the unity and stability of the state in which it is spoken. Language activism for the dialectalised variety can often be interpreted as ‘separatism’; sometimes there is such an association. At the heart of this tension is a witticism often attributed to the sociolinguist of Yiddish, Max Weinreich: ‘a language is a dialect with an army and a navy’. Scots, one of the native vernaculars of Scotland, is a near-­perfect example of a dialectalised language. This book is concerned with the present state of Scots; it is not intended to be an historical treatment of the variety. Nevertheless, to understand the present linguistic complexity of non-­Gaelic Scotland we need to know something about its history. This will be discussed later in the chapter.



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 3

1.2.2  Scottish Standard English

Throughout this chapter I will make regular reference to Scottish Standard English. I have not attempted to define what I mean by this term, however. Partly this is because this book is not concerned with that variety, its use and its development; it needs to be recognised, though, that neither Scottish Standard English nor Scots exist in a vacuum in contemporary Scotland. As we will see regularly, there is considerable leakage – and confusion – between the two. It is quite possible – indeed necessary under most conditions – to speak about a continuum between dense varieties of Scots and the most standard forms of Scottish Standard English. Most Scots – I am one of them – ‘commute’ along this continuum on a day-­to-­day basis, depending on context. Many – by no means all – activists for Scots seem to prefer a vision of two separate languages, one of which being a ‘Scots in the mind of God’. It would be tempting to say that Scottish Standard English is simply Standard English spoken in Scotland. Such a definition is encouraged by the use of the term British English by many linguists (although, when you read deeper into their discussions it becomes increasingly apparent that what they generally mean is the English of (southern) England). But Scottish Standard English is more than just a local form of the international variety (although it is certainly that as well), it contains features within it which derive from Scots. These are largely lexical, but do include morphosyntactic features as well. Further references to these phenomena can be found elsewhere. What needs to be emphasised here, however, is that, while Scottish Standard English has undoubtedly influenced Scots, the opposite is also the case. Despite all of these issues, however, I will continue to use the word language advisedly – along with the words variety and vernacular – to help avoid confusion with dialect, which I primarily use to describe geographical and social varieties forming part of Scots as a whole. If I have been inconsistent in this distinction, my only defence is that everyone has the same problem. 1.3  History of Scots1

There was a time when neither Scots nor Gaelic was spoken in Scotland. Both vernaculars are descended from varieties brought by immigrants into the present country from the fifth century on. The ancestor of Scots, Old Northumbrian, was spoken primarily in the South-­East of the present country, with a particular focus on what became the Edinburgh area, perhaps. At the time, this region was part of Bernicia, the northern

4

modern scots

sub-­kingdom of Anglo-­Saxon Northumbria. It was developments in English and Scottish history which led to the transfer of this region to the northern kingdom. Throughout the early middle ages Gaelic became increasingly dominant in the uniting kingdom of Scotland (for a somewhat partisan discussion of this development, see MacKinnon 1991; see also McLeod 2004). The language had some currency even among the ruling elite of the Old Northumbrian-­speaking areas in the south-­eastern parts of the country. The eventual – and unexpected – dominance of Scots, the Germanic variety, can be traced largely to a series of reorientations in the northern kingdom and a change of regime in the southern. King Malcolm IV of Scots, who had spent some time at the English court in his youth, married the Anglo-­Saxon princess Margaret, a refugee, along with her brother Edgar Atheling (the rightful king of England), following the Norman seizure of power in England in 1066–7. Malcolm and St. Margaret had a large family, many of whom went on to wield power during the next half-­century and beyond. While all of this generation (and probably the next) would have been able to speak Gaelic, Old English would have become increasingly dominant both in the court and beyond. The West Saxon dialect of English St. Margaret and her family used was similar to, albeit not the same as, the Northumbrian dialects spoken in Scotland. It is, perhaps, unsurprising that the centre of royal power shifted during this period from its original Breadalbane– Perth heartland south and east towards the area surrounding the Firth of Forth – both on the northern shore (in Dunfermline in particular) and eventually predominantly around Edinburgh, an area which enjoyed a relatively dry climate, was particularly fertile and possessed a number of excellent natural fortresses. Perhaps ironically, given the royal family’s Anglo-­Saxon affiliation, this de-­Gaelicisation of first the royal household and then the central Lowlands was also associated with a ‘Norman infiltration’. Scotland was almost abjectly poor in comparison with its southern neighbour. In order to build their revenue base (and probably also to protect the country’s autonomy), successive kings invited Norman noblemen (including individuals descended from residents of other parts of northern France), often presently resident in marginal territories in Northern England and Wales, to come north, where they often married into the local ruling classes. As part of the project to develop a money-­based market economy, the foundation of fortified burghs was essential. Naturally this new elite brought a considerable number of retainers with them. Since many had previously resided in the North of England, their followers spoke northern dialects of English, similar to, but not



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 5

the same as, the Bernician varieties of South-­East Scotland. It is the combination of these two descendants of Old Northumbrian – the more recent entrant rather more directly influenced by the Viking Norse of Scandinavian settlers than the original – which, we believe, were the basis for all the modern dialects of Scots. In the course of the middle ages the balance of linguistic power in the Scottish Lowlands shifted from Gaelic to Scots. While the Celtic vernacular retreated slowly, political, economic and cultural capital was, by the fifteenth century, associated with, and assumed by, Scots speakers. The process was probably slower in the North-­East, but the final outcome was inevitable (Millar 1996, 2009b, 2010b). Gaelic became associated largely with the Highlands and Islands and their ‘foreign’ culture, with Scots language islands, such as Lochgilphead (on the Firth of Clyde coast of Argyll) or Cromarty (on the Black Isle to the north of Inverness), being founded and expanding on the boundaries of the Gaidhealtachd, the Gaelic-­speaking area. With the transfer of Orkney and Shetland from Danish to Scottish rule in the late fifteenth century, imported Scots gradually replacing the native Norn, and the spread of Scots speakers into the north of Ireland in the seventeenth century, the ‘Scots-­speaking world’ assumed the dimensions it has today. In the case of the latter, the transplanted nature of Ulster Scots involved a unique form of contact with the equally transplanted ancestors of Ulster English, derived from quite different ‘mainland’ dialects, coupled with the influence of Irish rather than Scottish Gaelic. The dominance of the Scots language was not solely, however, a matter of geographical spread and political power. The sixteenth century in particular saw the development of a Scots literature of considerable ability and diversity. Underlying this was a governmental variety going through the process of codification and standardisation, to the extent that writers from different regions often employed (or attempted to employ) the same Edinburgh-­based norms. Unsurprisingly, it is around this time that the Scottish descendant of Old English began to be called Scottis (a term previously used for Gaelic) rather than Inglis; English itself was often termed suddroun ‘southern’. That this bifurcation of ‘Scots’ and ‘English’ existed in the minds and practice of at least some Scots speakers is undoubted; that some did not make this equation may be significant in relation to the language’s later history (for a discussion of some of these points, see Millar 2010b). The sixteenth century represented the summit of achievement for Scots as an independent language; conversely, it also witnessed the beginnings of its dialectalisation.

6

modern scots

A number of features contributed to this decline in status. Scholars debate the strength of these factors, but no one doubts that it is a combination of them which lies at the heart of the changes. The Protestant Reformation came relatively late to Scotland (in the 1560s), but was established in a radical Calvinist form, associated with a genuinely popular movement for reform. It might be expected, therefore, that the status and use of Scots would have been enhanced by these developments, particularly given the Protestant emphasis on scripture and worship in the vernacular. The poverty and instability of Scotland during the period probably encouraged the use of an English Bible, however. God, in a sense, began to speak English rather than the local vernacular. Inevitably, the status of the latter was affected by this change. On the death of Elizabeth Tudor in 1603, James VI of Scots acceded to the English throne. He, along with many of the Scottish upper nobility, almost immediately decamped to the southern kingdom. Although James remained a Scots speaker for the rest of his life, he ceased writing in his native tongue, instead using English. While these changes did not immediately affect the linguistic behaviour of everyday Scots speakers, it did mean that literary patronage for work in the language practically ceased. Official written language use also moved towards the Standard English model throughout the seventeenth century, largely through the incremental modification of previous practice away from Scottish towards southern usage. The union of the parliaments of Scotland and England in 1707 has a symbolic status for our understanding of modern Scottish literary and administrative autonomy; in terms of official and literary Scots it can be said to represent little more than the inevitable conclusion of the dialectalisation process. Nevertheless, practically all non-­Gaelic-­speaking Scots remained Scots speakers (and English readers and writers, if they could) at the beginning of the eighteenth century. That century’s London-­centred concentration on propriety in language thrust a wedge between Scottish working people – who continued to speak Scots – and, to begin with, the upper middle classes of Edinburgh and other urban areas, along with, increasingly, some of the developing urban lower middle classes, who began to jettison Scots in favour of what became Scottish Standard English (see Dossena 2005 for a discussion of possible sources for this new variety; see Millar 2016a: chapter 2; see also above). By the end of the eighteenth century, authoritative voices begin to expiate on the ongoing ‘improvement’ of Scottish speech in the direction of Standard English and the extinction of Scots. Yet this did not happen (or at least not fully and not in the way these observers expected).



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 7

1.3.1  The ‘vernacular revival’ and the nineteenth century2

As was stated above, the use of Scots in official prose was practically moribund by the beginning of the eighteenth century; nevertheless, it had remained the ‘language of the people’, associated strongly with a vibrant folk art tradition. While an interest in such ‘vulgar’ production was not central to the dominant Augustan culture of the middle of that century, a strong counter-­current existed which would develop into Romanticism by the end of the century, a counter-­current which celebrated the authenticity and centrality of the traditions, literature and music of the Volk. In Scotland an underground existed which interpreted the use of Scots in speech and in particular creative writing as being representative of more genuine and heartfelt expression and emotion than was possible for the overtly prestigious variety. By the mid-­to late years of the eighteenth century this movement (if it can be termed thus, rather than a casual association of like-­minded acquaintances) became overground in the person and work of Robert Burns (1759–96). In the last decades of his life (and indeed in the period after his death), Burns became something of a phenomenon, attracting an interest in not only his work but also his life more associated nowadays with a ‘celebrity’ rather than a ‘serious artist’; his abilities were considerable nonetheless. His portrayal as an ‘unlettered ploughboy’, whose ‘natural’ genius overcame his lowly origins, was effective as a means of gaining publicity and, frankly, selling books, however. Burns was fêted in Scottish metropolitan upper-­middle-­class circles; his use of Scots in his poetry being a primary feature in his attractiveness and celebrity – ironically, perhaps, among many of the same people who were attempting to extinguish Scottish features in their own and others’ speech. Scots therefore began to receive new attention some 100 years after its apparent ‘death’. Yet, as we will see in Chapter 6, its new written uses helped paint the language into a corner associated with the literary, the past and the rural during a period when a large part of Scotland was experiencing unexpected and unprecedented change, both in relation to the methods employed in producing agricultural products and in the nature of manufacture. Over only a few decades Scotland urbanised and industrialised while agriculture became capitalist at heart. The couthie ‘naturally wise and crafty’ peasant stereotype with which Burns (or his persona) was associated increasingly became irrelevant not only to many observers of Scotland but also to a large part of the Scots-­ speaking community. This breakdown in association did not do much for the language’s relationship to relevance and modernity (particularly

8

modern scots

good recent discussions of these issues can be found in several of the essays in Carruthers 2009). This was not helped by the subjects regularly treated in the work of Burns’ successors in the nineteenth century. While it would be unfair to tar everyone with the same brush, it must be accepted that the sentiment so strong in Burns’ poetry rapidly descended into sentimentality in the work of his successors, reaching its nadir in the execrable Kailyard school at the end of the nineteenth century. Other trends of use were also present at the same time. In the course of the century, for instance, as we will see in Chapter 7, newspaper columns in Scots were by no means unknown; generally (although not necessarily) this output was associated with publications with a radical political agenda. Journalism of this type is still occasionally present in a number of (particularly local) newspapers. Yet despite the differing ideological associations of the language used in these publications, they all presented the Scots speakers as humorous and plain-­speaking, allowed to speak more freely to his (or her) ‘betters’ than would otherwise be the case. This ideological association has remained the same even if the country has changed. A number of further issues were also present in the post-­1707 written use of Scots, each of them in many ways damaging to the autonomous status of the language. In the first instance, the ‘vernacular revival’ employed a spelling system (if that is not too strong a word for what was often an improvised and contradictory series of patterns) based primarily on that of Standard English, with differences between the two varieties generally being represented with the use of apostrophes. While spelling of this sort has the advantage of allowing monolingual English speakers to work out where the differences between the native variety and Scots lie, the latter can look a bit like a mangled and corrupt English rather than a similar but discrete system. Moreover, the question of linguistic acculturation and status can also be derived from the use of Scots in writing in the modern era. Although Burns’ poetry is preponderantly written in Scots, Standard English does intrude, particularly when the subject matter tends towards the abstract, possibly because Scots has limited lexis for discussing these matters but also, perhaps, because Scots was felt not to be appropriate for such elevated topics. In prose this dichotomy between the appropriate spheres for Scots and Standard English was even more obvious. With a few exceptions, nineteenth-­century novelists who employed Scots in their work tended to use the language only in dialogue, while employing Standard English essentially exclusively in narrative (of which more will be said in Chapter 6). Moreover, middle-­class authority figures were portrayed as being solely speakers of the latter, when



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 9

we know that such a distinction was rarely clear-­cut at the time. While this portrayal is largely due to the prestige of the writing of Sir Walter Scott, the fact that it was perpetuated and prevails essentially to the present day tells us much about the sociolinguistic relationships of the time. This Standard English became default and central within non-­ Gaelic Scotland’s linguistic relationships. Scots use was in a sense an ­aberration. We will return to many of these concerns in Chapter 6. 1.3.2  Scots in the modern age

Although there is some evidence that Scots was used at least in the early stages of education until quite recently in country districts (see Williamson 1982, 1983), compulsory schooling from the 1870s on helped to spread the spoken use of Scottish Standard English throughout Scotland at all levels of society. While in many parts of the country this amounted to a passive understanding of the external variety, possibly coupled with an ability to code-­switch between variety and variety depending on context, its presence in everyday contexts only encouraged the associations of appropriateness which the variety possessed. Given the presiding post-­Romantic sentiments of the age, the rural dialects retained a privileged position, in their ‘appropriate’ place within the education system. Urban varieties, however, were frowned upon because of their ‘corruption’ (these views were not confined to the education authorities and other middle-­class figures of authority; sadly, several linguists subscribed to them well into the second-­half of the twentieth century: see, for instance, some of the analysis in Murison 1977). Of course there were differences between urban and rural varieties of Scots; what commentators were probably objecting to was the great changes in traditional Scottish society wrought by urbanisation and industrialisation and the political and social reality of a growing proletariat. While it is always difficult to judge what effects education policy actually has on unconditioned linguistic behaviour, this prejudicial treatment of what had become the majority varieties of Scots cannot have done either the variants themselves or the language as a whole much good. We will discuss these issues further in Chapter 7 While the ‘death’ of Scots has been much anticipated and advertised, since at least the eighteenth century, there can be little doubt that what was previously considered traditional Scots is fading from the Scottish linguistic scene. This is particularly evident in the use of traditional lexis (especially, perhaps, because large parts of it were associated with occupations and lifestyles which were no longer central – or even

10

modern scots

c­ urrent – in many communities). We will return to these points in the following chapters on a number of occasions. It could be argued that, at the beginning of the twentieth century, much of non-­Gaelic Scotland existed in a state of diglossia (for a discussion, see Ferguson 1959 and Fishman 1967). All (or almost all) of the population had command over Scottish Standard English and their local variety of Scots. These varieties were not used interchangeably. Instead, different social contexts – domains, as sociolinguists term them – ­triggered different language forms, based upon often complex notions of appropriateness. Thus, it would have been deemed inappropriate to use Scots in a university lecture; the use of Scottish Standard English in intimate family contexts would have been considered at least as aberrant behaviour, if not distinctly unfriendly. Relationships of this type are very likely to continue in some parts of the Scots-­speaking world relatively distant from the centres of political, social and demographic power, where there is a strong sense of local identity and where traditional occupations and cultural pastimes continue. A particularly powerful example of this type of survival was found, at least until very recently, in Shetland. But most of Scotland no longer exhibits these tendencies – or at least not wholly. Elsewhere (Millar 2005; see also Macafee 1997b) I have argued that the last century has seen the former diglossia broken down in Scotland, with a rather more confused and confusing pattern of usage being realised. Instead of code shifting between Scottish Standard English and Scots, many – perhaps most – speakers code mix, employing features of both varieties in an apparently random way which quite probably suggests that the two codes are no longer kept separate in speakers’ minds. This merger also includes the introduction of a great deal of colloquial English into the linguistic mix, with the unfortunate association of both it and the native Scots input with the concept of ‘slang’. While it is difficult to say how exactly this might happen, the growth of mass media – particularly perhaps in recent decades interactive mass media – in combination with a prescriptive societal reality must have been at the heart of these changes. Many similar points can be made about Ulster. While Ulster Scots remains a folk speech over a considerable area of the province, and has, since 1998 in particular, achieved an official recognition beyond that found for the language in Scotland (as we will discuss in Chapter 7), the conflicted associations the variety had and has with personal and national identity, plus its minority (and somewhat sequestered, even marginalised) status within both Ireland as a whole and Ulster (and Northern Ireland) in particular, means that its speakers cannot have



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 11

the social and cultural clout that speakers and writers of Scots have in Scotland). 1.4  The dialects of Scots

A number of scholarly representations of the geographical extent of the various Scots dialects exist, going back to the beginning of the twentieth century at the very least (discussions of these early pioneers can be found in a variety of places; most rigorous is that in Johnston 1997, however). Most of these distinctions are based on native speaker awareness mixed with geographical reality, as perceived by the scholars themselves. It needs to be recognised, in fact, that, while some of these accounts, such as that of Johnston (1997), are more nuanced in their analysis than are others (Johnston’s work in particular is to be welcomed in its willingness to introduce recent and contemporary sociolinguistic research into his geographical portrayal), the organisation of the major dialect units does not differ much for the very good reason that the distinctions described represent an essentially accurate portrayal. Nevertheless, any distinction of this type is an idealisation of an often messy reality. With a few exceptions, normally caused by major geographical barriers such as (high) hills and mountains or broad or dangerous waters, dialects do not merely stop at a particular boundary with a distinctly different dialect facing it (although individual pronunciations or other usages might act in this way). On the contrary, dialects normally flow into each other, with the most ‘genuine’ form of the dialect being spoken at the centre of a dialect area and its influence petering out the further away from the centre a speaker’s birthplace. The following typology is therefore as near an approximation to prior analyses as is possible given our present understanding of the issue. It should not be taken as an absolute statement of reality, in particular in relation to the social forces of standardisation and urbanisation which have been at work in many parts of Scotland over the last 250 years. A more detailed discussion of distinctions within these large-­scale groupings will be provided in Chapter 3. In the following, particular stress will be given to phonological distinctions, since it is under those circumstances that greater geographical accuracy in distinction can be achieved. Structural and lexical variation across space is also possible, however. Traditionally, the Scots dialects of Shetland and Orkney have been treated as parts of a single unit: Insular Scots. As we will see, much divides the two archipelagos from each other linguistically, but perhaps more unites them. They both, for instance, retain a front rounded vowel

12

Figure 1.1  Dialects of Scots.

modern scots



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 13

in words equivalent to English moon and school; given their nature as primary contact dialects with Norn, the name applied to the formerly spoken North Germanic dialects of the islands, which appear to have died out in the eighteenth century, it is unsurprising that they share much vocabulary of Norse origin not found in any of the mainland Scots dialects, with the partial exception of that of Caithness. Across the Pentland Firth are the Northern Scots dialects. In fact, the Insular Scots dialects might be analysed as being a subset of these dialects, although substantiating this claim would develop into a time-­ consuming and probably inconclusive business. One characteristic which marks off the Northern dialects from their more southerly equivalents is that, although obviously a unit, they are not geographically contiguous. In between the Scots-­speaking part of Caithness and the Black Isle lie at least 100 kilometres where, when inhabited, the land was occupied until relatively recently by speakers of Gaelic and is now largely inhabited by speakers of Highlands and Islands English, who are primarily their descendants. The Scots dialects of the Black Isle, a promontory to the north of Inverness, were largely confined to two villages, Cromarty and Avoch, which are not fully connected to the North-­East Scots-­speaking regions to the east of Inverness, beginning in the west with Nairn (although the dialects of this region share some features with the dialects to the north of them, rather than those to the east). Nevertheless they form part of a dialect continuum which runs through the North-­East of Scotland (although historically avoiding the mountains) into the Central dialects. All the Northern dialects, even when not connected by land, are joined by sea: most of the coastal communities were involved in what had become by the late nineteenth century large-­scale fishing enterprises. People from all over the North regularly came into contact with each other, as well as with people involved with the trade from much further afield. Caithness (North Northern A) and North-­ East dialects share a number of features, not least the substitution of /f/ for /ʍ/, so that what, for example, can be /fɪt/. For both dialects the equivalent of English moon is /min/. On the other hand, school is /skil/ in Caithness, but /skwil/ in the North-­East. Although the latter community has a significant number of Gaelic borrowings not found in most more southerly dialects, Caithness has many more, along with a considerable number of words of Norse origin not found anywhere else in the Scots-­speaking world with the exception, often, of Orkney and Shetland (Caithness having had a close relationship with the first archipelago in particular for many centuries). The Black Isle dialects (North Northern B) shared much with their

14

modern scots

Caithness equivalents. With one feature, however, they stood alone, not only in the North or even in Scotland, but in the English-­speaking world. The loss of /h/ in all positions is a very unusual feature anywhere north of the River Tyne in the North-­East of England; indeed it is essentially peculiar to the Black Isle. What is much more striking for that region, however, is that the words were not replaced by /f/, as is the case with the other Northern dialects, but by nothing. The Scots equivalent to English what, which is fit or fat in the rest of the Scots-­speaking North, was at in Cromarty and Avoch. Although what we mean by dialect death is obviously not the same as language death and can be debated endlessly (see Millar, Barras and Bonnici 2014), a good case could be made for the last speaker of archetypically ‘Black Isle Scots’ dying in 2012. The North-­ East of Scotland represents a geographically large expanse with, at least in terms of the north of Scotland as a whole, a not insubstantial population. At a macro level, the region can be split into two large zones, one centred around Moray in the west (Mid Northern B) and the other around Aberdeenshire in the east (Mid Northern A). Both varieties are known as the Doric by local people, a name which was within living memory assigned by many to any Scots dialect. While these North-­Eastern dialects are very similar, a number of phonological differences can help us distinguish between them. Perhaps the most striking of these can be related to words like nane, the equivalent to English none. The same change happened to the ancestor of nane. In most of Scotland this word is, predictably, pronounced /nen/. This is the pronunciation in Moray; in the eastern part of the North-­East – pre-­1975 Aberdeenshire, essentially – the word (and all words where Central Scots /e/ is followed by /n/) is pronounced with /i/: /stin/ (Stonehaven, in northern Kincardineshire, is often known by locals as Steenie – from original Stanehive; this pronunciation is also occasionally heard in parts of the Northern Isles). Inside the eastern area is the city of Aberdeen. Until relatively recently the differences between North-­East rural and urban varieties were not great; in the last decades, however, a new urban variety – often called Toonser spik or just Aiberdeen – has developed; it is associated with the less affluent districts of the city. Phonologically it displays its North-­East character; the effects that urbanisation has had upon structure and in particular lexical use will be discussed further in Chapter 7. To the south of the North-­East linguistically lies the South Northern area, stretching from the area to the south of Stonehaven (part of the North-­East linguistically, although south of the mountains) to just to the north of the Sidlaw hills, where it blends almost imperceptibly into the northern forms of the East Central dialects. South Northern



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 15

is truly a transitional dialect. In northern parts of the area – southern Kincardineshire in particular – the equivalents to English words like moon and school are often pronounced with /i/; to the south, however, in Angus and the furthest south parts of Kincardineshire, they are pronounced /e/; in rural parts of western Angus, moreover, it is still possible to hear these words pronounced with the rounded front vowel /y/, as is also the case in Orkney and Shetland. What makes South Northern Northern is the pronunciation of words. As with the North-­East, the equivalent of English where is /far/. Interestingly, however, it is only with interrogative and relative pronoun words that this change takes place. Other words, such as white, are pronounced with /ʍ/, as is the case in the Central dialects. Most Scots speakers speak Central dialects, in an area which encompasses all the land from southern Angus and Lowland Perthshire to – at least – southern Ayrshire and the South-­East of East Lothian (some commentators would also consider the speakers of Scots in the lower reaches of the Tweed valley to the south to be users of essentially Central Scots varieties). Traditionally, the Central dialects are split into a Western and an Eastern group, with the boundary falling between north-­eastern Lanarkshire and western West Lothian. As we will see in Chapter 3 in particular, however, the differences between Eastern and Western, while undoubtedly present, are subtle and often highly nuanced. Less well-­known are the considerable differences found between the northern and southern marches of the Central area and the highly urbanised centre. Partly this distinction can be explained by the differentiation and tension felt between traditional (or conservative) dialects and innovative ones – a point to which we will return regularly in this book. Unsurprisingly, the northern Central dialects share many features with South Northern, as we will see in Chapter 3; southern Central dialects blend into the Southern dialects; this is perhaps most noticeable to the west, where it is difficult to distinguish between southerly West Central dialects and South West dialects proper, distinctions often being made based on geographical and administrative associations. Unsurprisingly, given the concentration of population in this region, urban varieties are common, largely associated with Glasgow (and the Clydeside conurbation surrounding it), Edinburgh and Dundee. The western parts of Fife, along with much of Clackmannanshire, associated in the past with the coal industry, may also present a similar, if smaller, region. Unsurprisingly, the dialects spoken in these areas are of the soil, deriving much of their basic information from the dialects of the counties that surround them (although not the characteristics of any one

16

modern scots

of them). As with the Aberdeen dialect discussed above (and probably to a greater extent), these dialects have followed an innovative path, especially in relation to lexical usage. The Glasgow dialect in particular has also been influenced by varieties and languages spoken outside the Scots-­speaking world, including various forms of Irish English, Highland English, Gaelic and, to a lesser extent, Irish. Glasgow dialect also exerts considerable influence upon the more traditional dialects surrounding the city; in recent years this influence has also spread to other urban areas, probably forming part of the nature of new urban dialects as they have developed as far away as Aberdeen. Extrapolating from historical and linguistic evidence, it is likely that the central mainland Scots influence sources for Ulster Scots were the West Central – perhaps primarily Ayrshire – dialects of the early modern period. It must be borne in mind, however, that, as is the case with many ‘colonial’ varieties (see, for instance, Millar 2016a), the relationship between source dialects and their ‘product’ in another place is rarely straightforward. As we will see, Ulster Scots exhibits a number of features which align it more readily with the South West dialects than the West Central ones (a point which is hardly surprising, given how geographically close south-­western Scotland and the north-­east corner of Ireland actually are). Moreover, certain central features of Ulster Scots appear to be derived from Ulster English or Irish sources. Finally, the variety with which Ulster Scots forms a social continuum is, unlike all the other varieties of Scots, not Scottish Standard English but educated forms of Northern Irish educated English (although this variety has been influenced from Scottish Standard English through a long-­standing tradition of middle-­class Protestant Ulstermen receiving higher (and sometimes secondary) education in Scotland, in particular when training for the Presbyterian ministry). There are no major urban concentrations in the Ulster Scots-­speaking area, although the cities of Belfast and Derry are nearby; their dialects of English are heavily influenced by Ulster Scots. Given their geographical position, the dialects of Ulster Scots, while maintaining an overall consistency, are inevitably and regularly different from each other. The Southern dialects of Scots are, unsurprisingly given the nature of the terrain in which they are spoken, quite diverse. They all appear conservative in relation to the Central dialects, a point which is also true for the Northern dialects. But the Southern dialects are also innovative in terms of the changes through which, we assume, they have passed. This tendency towards innovation may be less true in relation to the dialects in the north. It is important to recognise, however, that the South West and South



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 17

East dialects of Scots are quite distinctive in relation to each other. Johnson (1997) suggests that the former South East dialects of the lower Tweed valley have been largely displaced by varieties which are essentially East Central in nature, a change aided by the coastal villages and towns of that area gradually becoming at least in part gentrified settlements focused on the residence of generally well-­heeled commuters to Edinburgh. The relatively isolated nature of the upper reaches of rivers like the Teviot, however, encourage the perpetuation of varieties which are often highly divergent from the otherwise dominant Central dialects. The South West dialects, on the other hand, are largely fairly mainstream, albeit traditional, Scots varieties, sharing many features with the southern West Central varieties. In the east of the region, however, many varieties exhibit the loss of /x/ in Scots words like bricht ‘bright’, so that the local pronunciation can be /brit/, in line with traditional dialects in the North of England (this change may well explain the rather unexpected pronunciation – /bri/ – of the final syllable of Kirkcudbright). In the west of the region – in particular in the area to the south and west of Stranraer, ‘Galloway Irish’ continues to be spoken, although it now seems healthy only among older members of the farming community. To other Scots the variety sounds more like those of Ulster than those of Scotland. Conversely, the Ulster Scots variety associated with the town of Larne in the far north-­east of Ireland is often taken for Scottish by other Irish people. Connections between western Galloway and eastern Ulster have long been strong and deep, including much intermarriage. 1.5  Geography, culture and politics

On a global scale, Scotland is a relatively small country, the mainland measuring (including the Northern Isles) between 500 and 600 kilometres from south to north and – at most – around 200 kilometres from east to west. Strangely, however, it is highly varied topographically and culturally. It is also demographically varied, with high population densities in some areas being matched by large areas where practically no one lives. Geographically, the country is divided between the Lowlands and the Highlands. In geological terms this distinction can be seen in the preponderance of ‘soft’ sedimentary rocks, such as sandstone, in the Lowlands, in comparison to the ‘hard’ igneous or metamorphic rocks of the Highlands. The former generally produce better soil in greater quantities than do the latter. This distinction between Highlands and Lowlands is not polar, however. The southernmost part of the country,

18

Figure 1.2  Scotland.

modern scots



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 19

Figure 1.3  Scotland: pre-­1975 counties.

20

modern scots

for instance, is largely made up of hilly regions, some of which, such as those found in Galloway in the south-­west, are best described as mountain ranges. The North-­East of Scotland and, in the far north, Caithness, moreover, are geologically in the Highlands, but culturally have more in common with the Lowlands. This book is primarily concerned with the Lowlands, but will also discuss the language use of these last two regions. Scotland’s history, culture and even language use are dominated by water. Very few parts of the country are any distance from the sea, whose creatures act as a source of often much-­needed protein. The sea also divides (and unites) different parts of the country (as well as Scotland and other countries). The rivers of the country – most notably the Clyde, Tweed, Forth, Dee, Don, Spey and Tay (although many other streams provide similar opportunities) – have long provided routes through often difficult terrain, opening up the heart of the country. Two features – geographical, political and cultural – define the Scottish Lowlands. Strathmore, ‘great valley’ in Gaelic, running from Dumbarton on the Clyde to Stonehaven on the North Sea, only some twenty-­five kilometres south of Aberdeen, has long provided straightforward transit from one side of Scotland to the other. The Central Belt shares a considerable part of the territory of Strathmore, but is not based upon strictly geographical boundaries. It is also more compact. In the most minimal terms it represents the high population isthmus between the Glasgow area and Edinburgh. Occasionally, outlying places, such as Dundee, are also placed within its ambit. Historically, the Central Belt was the heart of populous and industrialised Scotland. Demographically, Scotland is dominated by urban centres – centres which are often strikingly different from each other. The Clydeside conurbation, with a population in the millions, has at its heart Glasgow (population in 2011: almost 600,000 for the city itself; other towns, such as Paisley and Motherwell, are also sizeable population centres). Associated with heavy industry until the 1960s, the area has fairly successfully reinvented itself as a cultural centre specialising in service industry provision. Pockets of poverty remain, however. Edinburgh (population in 2011: just above 475,000) is the political, legal and to a degree business capital of Scotland. Its cultural connections are global; the material differences between its richest and poorest citizens are particularly marked, however. Aberdeen (population in 2011: somewhat over 220,000) is the northernmost of Scotland’s major urban areas. Although there was considerable industrial activity in the city during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, including shipbuilding and timber processing, the city has largely been dependent on single enterprises,



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 21

such as, until the 1970s, fishing and, more recently, the exploitation of North Sea oil. Dundee (population in 2011: a little below 150,000) lies on the north shore of the mouth of the Firth of Tay and is the smallest of Scotland’s cities (indeed Paisley, a mere town, is considerably larger). Historically, the city’s wealth was based on the ‘Three Js’ – jute, jam and journalism. The jute trade is long moribund and, although jam and journalism are still to some extent associated with the city, Dundee’s population went through hard times in the 1980s and 1990s. Recently the city has experienced something of a cultural and economic recovery, however. To the north of the Scottish mainland are the Orkney and Shetland archipelagos. Although these two island chains are often lumped together, there are many ecological, cultural and historical differences between them, although similarities, such as a shared Norse heritage, need also to be borne in mind. Orkney (population in 2011: somewhat over 21,000) lies close to the Scottish mainland and is largely based on ‘soft’ sedimentary rock. This makes most of the islands well disposed towards agriculture. In addition to the Mainland, a number of larger islands – Hoy, South Ronaldsay, Shapinsay and Westray, for instance – act as internal centres. The main population centre is Kirkwall (population in 2011: somewhat over 7,000, not including suburban development in other parishes). Shetland (population in 2011: somewhat over 23,000) lies about 150 kilometres north of the Scottish mainland and about twice as far from both the Faroe Islands and Norway. Unlike Orkney, the geological base of Shetland is ‘hard’ igneous and metamorphic rock; soils are thin. While local level, largely subsistence, agricultural production has, at least until very recently, been an absolute necessity, fishing was for a long time the primary means both of sustenance and, where possible, profit. Again unlike Orkney, the Shetland Mainland is by far the largest island; even large islands like Yell and Unst are dwarfed by it. The Mainland is rarely more than five kilometres wide; often it is far narrower than this. Lerwick, with a population of around 7,000 in 2011, is essentially the only urban area. The two archipelagos share a strong connection to the exploitation of North Sea oil. As well as serving as a temporary or permanent place of settlement for people involved in that sector, both chains have facilities for the refinement of oil – at Sullom Voe (Shetland) and on Flotta (Orkney). Scots is not, of course, only spoken in Scotland. It is also spoken in a range of places in Ulster, both in the present province of Northern Ireland and in the Republic of Ireland. This area is not contiguous,

22

modern scots

Figure 1.4  Ulster.

for a variety of historical reasons which do not need to be considered here. In the east, Scots is spoken in parts of Co. Down (in particular the northern parts of the Newtonards Peninsula), most of Co. Antrim (with the exception of Belfast and some coastal districts) and the eastern parts of Co. Derry-­Londonderry. It is also spoken in the Laggan region in Co. Donegal, a fairly large agricultural area running south-­west from the outskirts of Derry City towards Lough Swilly and beyond. Most of the Scots-­speaking part of Ireland is essentially agricultural. While a number of medium-­sized towns are to be found in the region – Ballymena and Coleraine spring to mind – the major urban centres of Ulster, Belfast and Derry City, lie just outside its borders. The Ulster Scots area does contain Larne, until recently the main ferry port for travel to and from Scotland, within its bounds, however. 1.5.1  Governance and politics

It is not the place here to give anything but a brief sense of the political history of these areas. Scotland was united politically with England in 1707, although Church, legal and educational settlements were kept separate. From the later nineteenth century on, a Secretary (of State) for Scotland sat in the British Cabinet. By the 1970s, Scotland as a whole was veering considerably to the left of the politics of England, causing



scots : l anguages and cultures , peoples and l ands 23

increasing tension. In 1999, the Scottish Parliament was re-­established. A number of Scottish Labour/Scottish Liberal Democrat administrations (parties which supported the ongoing union between Scotland and England) were replaced in 2007 by a Scottish National Party minority government (a party which supports Scottish independence). After the 2011 election, this party was able to form a majority government. In 2014 an attempt to achieve full Scottish independence by a referendum was rejected by the electorate by a small majority. Most Scottish people come from a Presbyterian heritage, although Church membership and attendance are not what they once were. There is a large Catholic population, however, in particular on Clydeside. There are also large Muslim and Sikh minorities. Many inhabitants of Orkney and Shetland do not consider themselves particularly Scottish; rejection of the 2014 independence proposals was particularly prevalent in these regions, which have a strong Liberal tradition. Shetland at least used to be associated with evangelical forms of Protestantism. Irish politics are, of course, much more fractious and difficult to discuss in a short space. This must suffice: most Ulster Scots speakers are of Protestant heritage; a minority are of Catholic heritage. Most speakers probably support continuing constitutional union with Great Britain, while some may favour an all-­Ireland state, involving the union of the present ‘North’ and ‘South’. There may be strong connections between the first set of distinctions and the second, but they are not absolute. There are also, of course, different gradations of what adherence to Unionism or Nationalism actually means in practice. While there may be some residual adherence to Unionism and the pre-­1922 status quo among some Scots speakers in Co. Donegal, there is little evidence that this has ever gone beyond limited and localised political activity. 1.6  Brief description of this book

This book is separated into two essential parts. In the first of these – Chapters 3, 4 and 5 – the ‘nuts and bolts’ of Scots in its dialectal diversity are discussed, with particular concentration on lexical usage, structure and phonology. In Chapters 6 and 7 a more sociological viewpoint is assumed, with the first discussing the creative use of Scots and the second discussing the present and future prospects of the language. For many readers, these chapters may be central to their interests in, and study of, Scots. The earlier chapters are necessary to give these later chapters depth, however. Chapter 2 represents a brief discussion of the resources available for the discussion and analysis of Scots, while Chapter 8 provides some final thoughts on some of the issues raised.

24

modern scots

Most chapters finish with a range of questions and exercises for you to consider. Exercise

1. Adopt a pre-­ 1975 county of Scotland (not Inverness, Ross and Cromarty or Sutherland) or contemporary Ireland (Down, Antrim, Derry-­Londonderry or Donegal). Find out what you can about the history of Scots in that county. How have the topography and demography of the county affected the development of the language? Has contact with other languages taken place? Notes

1. There are a number of treatments of the history of Scots, the most comprehensive (although now fairly venerable) being the chapters in Jones (1997). Particularly recommended for the early history of the language is Macafee (2002). 2. For discussion and a range of references, see Millar (2012: chapter 3).

2 Resources

2.1 Introduction

In relation to the size of its speech community, Scots is remarkably well served by the resources through which we can exemplify and analyse the use of the language. Some of these resources – often those which come readily to hand – are scholarly in origin and nature; it is difficult to imagine exactly how we could carry out informed analyses of Scots without them. Other resources are available, however, many of them the product of local interests and commitments. While inevitably of different levels of accuracy and applicability, these non-­scholarly resources are ignored at the investigator’s peril. 2.2  Dictionaries and word lists

Scotland has a long and honourable history of scholarly lexicography, reaching back at least to the work of Jamieson at the beginning of the nineteenth century. Jamieson’s Dictionary (first published in 1808), while flawed (as were most dictionaries of the time) in relation to its etymological practice and (occasionally) with reference to its awareness of the geographical spread of meaning across space and time, is essentially a state of the art representation of the semantic complexity and geographical diversity of Scots at the beginning of the Industrial Age (Rennie 2012). The strongest lexicographical tradition related to the language derives from this source, since it leads through the Oxford English Dictionary (its long-­term editor, whose scholarly authority and methodology stamped his character and nature on the dictionary, Sir James Murray, was himself a Scot – and a Scots speaker) to the Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue and, more circuitously, the Scottish National Dictionary. This second national multi-­volume work, dealing with Scots from round 1700 on, is based both on the largely literary corpora underlying the Oxford English Dictionary and extensive fieldwork carried out in 25

26

modern scots

the middle of the twentieth century, derived from a variety of sources, one of which is the extensive archives of the School of Scottish Studies at the University of Edinburgh (for a discussion of many of the issues raised here, see the papers collected in Macleod and McClure 2012). The Scottish National Dictionary is a landmark scholarly achievement; it is state of the art for the beginning of the second-­half of the twentieth century. It provides etymologies, a sense of dialectal diversity in terms of pronunciation and attestation, and a considerable amount of exemplification from a range of dialectal and literary or non-­literary resources. In a pre-­digital era, however, its size and concomitant cost rendered it both beyond the resources of all but the richest or most committed private purses and unwieldy to house. In order to get round this (and also, perfectly reasonably, to recoup some of the considerable outlay involved in the production of the parent dictionary), shorter, condensed, forms of the Scottish National Dictionary were produced from the 1980s on (a trait shared with the progeny of the Oxford English Dictionary project, of course), with at least some historical depth being added from the Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue. The first and most successful of these condensations is the Concise Scots Dictionary (1985). Intended to be used by an informed layperson, it would be fair to say that, since its publication in the 1980s, its presence in many Scottish homes has been commonplace, perhaps even the norm. It is by any standards a well-­crafted work, combining portability with in-­depth analysis. In order to be concise, some aspects of the Scottish National Dictionary have been sacrificed (or at least downplayed), including most of the exemplification, although pronunciation guides and suggested etymologies were maintained. Oddly, a large part, but not all, of the material related to the usage of the Northern Isles was also left out as part of the process. This dictionary was the basis for a number of further shorter dictionaries, including a number intended primarily for schoolchildren. The Concise Scots Dictionary is also the primary source for the Scots Thesaurus, whose compilation and inner workings will be discussed further in Chapter 4. In recent years, the Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue and the Scottish National Dictionary tradition, finally came together in the Dictionary of the Scots Language project, a freely available digital resource, funded to a considerable extent by the Scottish Government. These two source dictionaries were originally developed from different resource bases, conceptualised and produced in different ways (the Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue was initially connected to the Oxford English Dictionary corpus and working practices and was funded – and administered – directly by the ancient universities of Scotland, while the



resources 27

latter was the product of an independent charitable endeavour, funded by subscribing members), even when they inhabited the same physical space and shared staff members, Having both dictionaries ‘under one roof’ in an easily accessible format is, naturally, a great leap forward for the study of Scots as a whole and of lexical use in particular. The differing editorial techniques (and indeed the very conception) of the two dictionaries has led – at least in the early versions of the Dictionary of the Scots Language – to the employment of the resource turning out to be a somewhat frustrating experience, with multiple headwords and issues with the search options. Insofar as this is possible, most of these initial issues have now been ironed out. New material is continually being added, informed by the technological input which is now available. One of the central goals of these developments is a second edition (perhaps more accurately, version) of the Concise Scots Dictionary, which, it is to be hoped, will have been published by the time this book is published. As well as these national resources (it should be noted that the Scottish National Dictionary covers the Scots-­speaking parts of Ulster as part of its remit), a number of book-­length regional dictionaries are available; most of these are of considerable quality. Both Orkney and Shetland have at least one dedicated dictionary each (Lamb 1988 and Graham 1993 respectively; Lamb 1988 is now superseded by Flaws and Lamb 1996, although the former has useful etymological information which the latter, for whatever reason, lacks), generally based on classic dialect dictionary methodological traditions, including fieldwork and the harnessing of local literature and folklore. Less impressive, perhaps, are their equivalents in Caithness (Sutherland 1992 and Miller 2001) although, despite their failings, these still represent a means of analysing a range of local usage, both historical and (nearly) contemporary. The dialects of the North-­East of Scotland are rather better served with the Doric Dictionary (Kynoch 2004). Use of this work is rendered somewhat more difficult by the fact that it does not distinguish fully between historical, literary and contemporary use, however, although it nonetheless demonstrates a considerable understanding of the central methods of lexicography. The most impressive of these ‘regional’ dictionaries is Macafee’s A Concise Ulster Dictionary (1996). This is not surprising, given that Macafee is a highly respected scholar and has had a hand in the production of a number of the Scottish resources mentioned above. More in-­depth discussion of this work will be provided in Chapter 4; at present it should suffice to say that the skill of a highly trained lexicographer is displayed in this work. The Concise Ulster Dictionary deals with all non-­Gaelic Ulster usage, however, with only occasional geographical references

28

modern scots

available which could inform us about whether Ulster Scots or Ulster English usage is being referenced. To a lesser or greater extent, all of these dictionaries are indebted to the corpus and methodologies of the Scottish National Dictionary tradition; inevitably this is more noteworthy and direct with the Concise Ulster Dictionary than with the others. A number of book-­length discussions of local dialect lexis not essentially connected to professional lexicographical practice are also available. Many of these are excellent, such as The Hamely Tongue (Fenton 2006, dealing with Ulster Scots) and Buchan Claik (Buchan and Toulmin 1989, concerned with North-­East Scots). More common, however, is the pamphlet tradition, many products of which will be discussed in Chapter 4 below. The best of these (such as the Lossie Glossie, referring to the usage of coastal Moray) are of considerable quality, demonstrating both skill (and wit) in collection and ability in analysis; the worst (such as Kennington 2006, discussing lexical use in Berwick-­upon-­Tweed) are perfunctory and often ill-­informed. This differentiation is not necessarily connected to the length of the work. Many pamphlets have a humorous side. With the best, this comes by means of a connection to the area’s folk culture through its lexical use; for some, however, the dialect and its speakers are themselves mocked (although this does not necessarily mean that native speakers and visitors would not purchase and enjoy works of this type). The contents of a number of these works will be analysed in Chapter 4 in particular. 2.3  Archival material and dialect atlases

Because Scotland is a country defined, by insiders and outsiders, as discrete culturally, linguistically and (in recent years) politically, the treatment of its Germanic variety possesses certain advantages over what has been achieved by its near relatives in Northern England. National archives can be instituted; national dialect surveys can be carried out behind a particular line of demarcation. Although a number of regional sources for archived material exist, ranging from the central libraries of the various counties (both former and present), where the collections reflect both what has been offered by interested benefactors and the interest (or lack thereof) of a succession of librarians, to major collections of contemporary and historical materials, collated in a professional manner, such as the collection of the Elphinstone Institute at the University of Aberdeen, Scotland is blessed in having the collections of the School of Scottish Studies at the University of Edinburgh. Connected itself to the archival materials of the two main national dictionaries mentioned above, this collection



resources 29

is particularly concentrated upon the recent past. Of course, its collation need not be entirely based upon the perceived needs of linguistic classification – its impetus can often be more closely connected to the collection of songs, rhymes and material culture than with directly language-­based associations. But the fact that much of the material collected is localised can lead us towards a clearer understanding of linguistic usage across space. Related to these collections are the archives of the Survey of Scottish Dialects, a project which carried out fieldwork in the 1950s and 1960s, and the multi-­volume Linguistic Atlas of Scotland (1975–86) which grew out of this. The materials – recorded both in written notes and on tape – underlie a number of chapters in this book, in particular those concerned with phonology and lexis. As with many projects of this type, of course, there are drawbacks in using these materials along with many considerable advantages. Prior to the beginnings of the Sociolinguistics project in the 1950s (see, for instance, Millar 2016b), the study of dialects was perceived primarily as the comparison of the usage of individuals to find the most ‘genuine’ speaker of a variety. Representativeness was not based on statistical evidence but rather upon an index of ‘purity’ aimed towards recording and perpetuating the usage of older, normally male, informants. Urban usage was mistrusted as being distorted. This bias in terms of collecting is particularly problematical in a country like Scotland where such a high proportion of the population has lived in urban areas since the nineteenth century. Nevertheless both the Linguistic Atlas of Scotland itself and its fieldwork, no matter its backward-­ looking tendencies, give a profound sense of the extent to which some individuals in particular places spoke at a particular time. As with so many other ‘national’ Scottish surveys, the Atlas also provides some information about use in Ulster, including in some parts of that province which are not presently Scots-­speaking. 2.4  Electronic corpora

In a sense, all collections of material (particularly those which have been catalogued in some way) are corpora. Through the employment of a set of agreed protocols you are able to access information of a particular type or according to a particular classification, to some degree repetitive and representative of a greater ‘whole’, depending on your aims and needs. With paper or equivalent corpora, however, not only are such classificatory searches time-­consuming, but the number of actual tasks that can be carried out will be limited by the flexibility of the material in it being used in a variety of different ways. The abilities and knowledge

30

modern scots

set of the person using this type of corpora also inevitably affects the helpfulness of the search. Over the last fifty years, however, advances in computer technology have meant that large-­scale corpora, primarily but not solely textual in nature, can now be constructed. These can be searched in a considerable number of ways based upon an understanding of the ways in which programming can take place. The earliest textual corpora developed from the late 1970s on now appear ‘clunky’, slow and often small. At the time, however, their development was perceived as one of the greatest breakthroughs empirical linguistics had ever experienced. The fact that large-­scale corpora can now be constructed by individuals using personal computers is emblematic both of the technological leaps through which contemporary society has passed in recent times and the extent to which our understanding of corpus design has deepened over the years. Linguistic corpora are, therefore, of considerable use. As with any aid to scholarship, however, there are problems with their employment under certain circumstances. If used in a less nuanced way, particularly by inexperienced scholars, the impression can be given that the sample presented and employed is actually the language as a whole. Sometimes this is functionally correct. The corpus underlying the Dictionary of Old English (see http://tapor.library.utoronto.ca/doecorpus/), for instance, is, in a sense, universal. All of the texts which have survived from the Old English period are included in their entirety. This is largely possible, however, because the amount of material surviving from that period is circumscribed. Even then, most texts are represented by only the edited version; manuscript differences are not generally displayed. With most corpora, a choice has to be made about what texts to include (generally based on the level to which they are considered representative, a concept problematical in itself, of course). An editorial aspect is therefore added. While conscientious corpus builders will attempt to minimise this aspect, it cannot be neutralised fully. The lack of universality and the level of editorial input, among other things, mean that the idea that any corpus is truly representative of a language as a whole needs to be treated as a truism rather than a truth. Nonetheless, if used intelligently corpora allow us a number of opportunities to gain an oversight with potential representativeness across a linguistic variety. In a sense, Scots is well served with corpora. Most of these, however, are historical in nature. One major corpus, however, is largely made up of contemporary or near contemporary usage, a corpus from which this book has gained a considerable amount of material. This is the Scottish Corpus of Texts & Speech (SCOTS). Its sister corpus, the



resources 31

Corpus of Modern Scottish Writing, is not full contemporary (its cut-­ off date is 1945), but is still of some use in presenting Modern Scots examples. The SCOTS corpus can presently be found at . A non-­academic but very useful online corpus of recordings (with video) is available at the Scots Language Centre’s website . 2.5 Bibliographies

Scots and Scottish Standard English are not well served for bibliographies. Probably the only attempt at a comprehensive bibliography is the online , initiated in the 1990s by Caroline Macafee and continued by Marina Dossena. It has not been updated since 2010. Further resources can be found at . Another resource which discusses Scots language (albeit under an English dialectology banner) is the Year’s Work in English Studies ; unlike the other resources mentioned, this resource requires payment for use, but there is a good chance that your institution has a subscription. This resource is particularly useful since it provides scholarly commentary on the material present. 2.6  Book-­length scholarly treatments of Scots

As any consultation of the bibliographical material described above demonstrates, there is considerable advanced material available to assist with the scholarly analysis of Scots. There are few accessible book-­length discussions of the language as a whole, however. Of those which are available, probably the most approachable (and also readily available) is Jones (2002). This book presents the views and analyses of a highly respected linguist. It does not, however, provide as strong a sense of the dialectal diversity of the language as it might. It also conflates Scots with English in Scotland, which is not always a helpful analysis. It is also perhaps too disparaging of the activist movement and its activities than it needs to be (for a contrary view, see McClure 2009). More all-­encompassing but far less readily available is Bergs (2005). This work does not provide as much dialectal detail as it might; its discussion of Scots as a cultural entity is not as developed as it could be. These books therefore present a good information base for the analysis of Scots; they do not attempt a comprehensive survey of the language. Perhaps hubristically, this book is an attempt to achieve as much of this as is possible in a limited space. A number of recent book-­length studies

32

modern scots

of specific dialect regions are also available, including McClure (2002), Millar (2007) and Corrigan (2010). 2.7 Conclusion

Scots, therefore, has a considerable number of resources available to help us in its analysis. As I hope this chapter has demonstrated, however, we need to be aware of the purposes (functional and, at least at times, ideological) for which these resources were – and are – intended. The tendency of many – not all – of these resources to ignore (or at least downplay) the urban varieties of Scots must always be borne in mind.

3 Phonology

3.1 Introduction

Pronunciation lies at the heart of our construction of identity, personal and social. At least within the Scottish context, people can normally classify me in terms of geographical and social background practically from the moment I open my mouth. In the Scots-­speaking regions of Scotland and Ireland these listener distinctions can be very small-­scale indeed. Under certain circumstances it is possible to perceive a difference in pronunciation across as little as five kilometres. At the extreme end of this continuum lie places like the small town in which I live, where locals claim to be able to tell whether someone comes from the west end or east end (the distance between these two points being no more than 2.5 kilometres); I have not been able to hear the distinction myself, but the fact that a major bundle of dialect isoglosses (lines drawn across maps to represent where major linguistic differences lie) runs near to, if not across, the town, and that it is made up of what were originally two discrete settlements, might support their view. The distance between places in Scotland (or indeed anywhere where a language has been spoken for a considerable period) need not be great before highly significant differences are perceptible. The causes for these distinctions across space are manifold, of course; they can be boiled down to one issue, however: until quite recently, travel was difficult and time-­consuming, even across relatively small distances. Until the early nineteenth century, it was very difficult to travel any faster than walking pace across any distance. The development of first steam-­propelled and then oil-­fuelled engines changed our perception of distance. When there is little or no traffic, I can drive from where I work to where I live (around fifty kilometres) in less than forty-­ five minutes. Two hundred years ago the same journey would have taken at the very least a long and exhausting day, sometimes through quite rough territory. The dialects of Scots remain as a testament of 33

34

modern scots

this former reality, while the changes they are presently experiencing represent, at least in part, the new rapid movement urban framework which replaced it. One of the central ways in which people distinguish between themselves and others is through differences in pronunciation. For instance, I come from central Renfrewshire, a region based around the large town of Paisley, an urban area which to a degree has been physically conjoined with the city of Glasgow since at least the 1930s, and has been dominated economically by its far larger neighbour for significantly longer. People from outside the West of Scotland find it difficult to distinguish between the speech of Paisley people (‘Buddies’) and Glaswegians. Glaswegians themselves may not be able to do so. To people from central Renfrewshire, however, this lack of awareness seems bizarre, since to us the distinctions are obvious. This is heard most readily in the pronunciation of the final unstressed vowel in words like Elderslie (the village in which I was born). Glaswegians pronounce this vowel as something like /i/; Buddies pronounce it as /ɪ/ or even /ə/. To us, this is a shibboleth, a marker of pronunciation (or, indeed, any feature of language) which is identified by insiders or outsiders (or, indeed, both) as particularly associated with that place. Scotland (and Ulster), like everywhere else where a language has been spoken for a considerable period, has a multitude of these shibboleths and markers, ranging from the highly localised to the national. It is a primary intention of this chapter to present these distinctions in a systematic and linguistically informed manner. 3.2  How do we analyse pronunciation in Scotland systematically?

The pronunciation of Scots (and localised forms of Scottish Standard English) is inevitably a complex (and sometimes fraught) subject. Very few discussions of the linguistic variation found across non-­Gaelic Scotland are analytical; many largely report how words (and word classes) are pronounced in a particular place or places, without much in the way of comparative discussion and analysis designed to produce a sense of overall distribution. Others take a more lofty viewpoint, describing large-­scale distinctions between often conveniently discrete and large-­scale units, ignoring the often ‘messy’ reality at lower levels. Evidence from Ulster, moreover, has not always been integrated as well as might have been wished with the other, ‘mainland’, Scots dialects. With this in mind, the only true attempt at describing and analysing all the phonological evidence for geographical variation within Scots is Johnston (1997).



phonology 35

Johnston’s work is monumental (and particularly impressive in scope given that it is only a chapter – albeit a lengthy one – in a large book, rather than a monograph). That does not mean, of course, that it is without flaws. It is very densely written – unsurprising, of course, given the subject matter and the space allowed for the discussion. Sometimes multiple readings are necessary to make sense of the arguments being made. The phonetic detail provided is fascinating and often necessary; it occasionally makes the evidence incomprehensible to readers without a considerable education in both phonetics and Scottish dialectology. Despite these minor points, however, I would like to emphasise the tremendous debt which this book owes to Johnston’s work. In a methodology made popular by Wells’ seminal work on English accents (Wells 1982), Johnston developed the concept of word-­set to describe conveniently the ways in which sounds map onto words. A word is chosen as representative of a particular set of words – for instance, in Wells’ analytical framework, FLEECE (capitalisation informs us that this is a word-­set) stands for those words which in RP is pronounced with a variant of /i:/. A system of this type is obviously a considerable boon in describing the ways in which different accents (and, indeed, dialects, although Wells does not address this issue directly) relate in terms of which pronunciation affects which set or subset. Wells’ analysis, on the other hand, is not terribly well-­suited to the vowel pattern of even Scottish Standard English, never mind any of the Scots dialects. This is most striking in his treatment of the vowel distinction between tide and tied in practically all Scottish accents, as discussed below. Because of these issues, a number of scholars have developed alternative strategies on how to use word-­sets for describing the relationships between pronunciations in the Germanic varieties of Scotland. Johnston (1997) provides the most eminent and successful of these attempts. This ‘re-­invention’ allows considerable nuance in terms of which lexical set is connected to which. Thus Wells’ FLEECE set is represented by two lexical sets – MEET and BEAT. While Scottish Standard English and most Scots dialects merge these two sets, some Scots ­varieties – such as those of parts of Angus and many Ulster varieties – do not, at least not for all words associated with these classes. The spellings represented – and – give some sense (although not the whole sense) of what is contained within these sets. Johnston also introduces a further lexical set, which he termed BOOT, but which will here be termed in a more Scots style BUIT – not present in English, but representing different mergers depending on place and, in the case of some dialects, the survival of a discrete vowel. Johnston’s system is derived from an historical appreciation of the vowels of Scots; since

36

modern scots

all dialects are inevitably formed from this original pattern, this is a strength rather than a weakness.4 Wells’ sets for RP and a modified presentation of Johnston’s sets as related to both Scottish Standard English are given in Box 3.1 (note, however, that the connections between different varieties’ word-­sets are intended to act as guides; they do not represent absolute and sole connections and distinctions). Box 3.1  Comparative distribution of lexical sets. SSE

Scots

Wells (1982)

No equivalent

BUIT

No equivalent

MEET/BEAT

MEET

FLEECE

BEAT MATE/BAIT

MATE-HAME

FACE

BAIT DRESS

DRESS

DRESS

TRAP

TRAP

TRAP/BATH/PALM/ START

KIT

KIT

KIT

STRUT

STRUT

STRUT

BOOT

OOT

FOOT/GOOSE/CURE

GOAT

GOAT

GOAT

CAUGHT/COT

CAUGHT

THOUGHT/NORTH

COT

LOT/CLOTH

OUT

OWER

MOUTH

BITE

BITE

PRICE

TRY

TRY

CHOICE

CHOICE

CHOICE

It should be noted that the exact connections and relationships between the sets differ from place to place across Scotland. 3.2.1  The Scottish Vowel Length Rule

Probably the most distinctive feature of Scottish pronunciations to an outsider is the length of the vowels. Vowels in Wells’ FLEECE set (in our terms, MEET), which are practically always long in an accent like RP, can be phonetically long (as in Beith, a town in north Ayrshire, where the final consonant is voiced) or short (as in Beath, a district in



phonology 37

Fife, where the final consonant is unvoiced). Similar phenomena can be found with other vowels. These length differentiations are not random, however. The late Jack Aitken formulated reasons behind this apparent discrepancy, generally termed the Scottish Vowel Length Rule (although many know it as Aitken’s law) (Aitken 1981; Abercrombie 1979). In the first instance, a vowel is long if it is followed by a voiced fricative, /r/ or is morpheme final. Thus the vowel in fate is shorter than the second vowel in afraid; tea has a longer vowel than team; the vowel in braid is noticeably shorter than the vowel in brayed. Scholars continue to discuss the full extent of the Scottish Vowel Length Rule. There is considerable dissent over whether vowels produced lower in the mouth are affected by it (it certainly appears to affect them to a smaller extent). The Rule also appears to affect Northern and Insular dialects less than more southerly varieties, suggesting that the change, which began in central Scotland (and is essentially complete there), is still spreading into northern regions. The Rule is also the norm in a large part of Ulster (including areas beyond the Ulster Scots heartland) and in the North of England. One of the surprising features of the Scottish Vowel Length Rule is that those who use it in their speech are rarely aware of it, or indeed vowel length at all. I can say that, from personal experience, people from, say, southern England, hear a difference of quantity as well as quantity between the RP production of bath, with a long back vowel, and cat, with a short front vowel, while people from where I come from would only be aware of the quality difference. There is one exception to this anomaly, however. In most varieties of English, the words tied and tide are homophones. In Scottish varieties they are not. Because this diphthong is affected by the Rule, the vowel in the first word is significantly longer than the vowel in the second. This is not merely a matter of quantity, however. The difference is also expressed through the first and second element of each diphthong being different from its equivalent in the other words. Some scholars, including, as we have seen, one as eminent as Wells (1982: i, 405–6), postulate that a phonemic difference between the two diphthongs is only present in Scots words and not in their Scottish Standard English equivalents. This is incorrect: the difference is phonemic in both varieties. It is true that Scots minimal pairs such as ay ‘yes’ and aye ‘always’ exist. Tide and tied are mainstream English words and are still minimal pairs for most Scottish people, however, although they are not in practically all other varieties of English.

38

modern scots

3.3  The phonologies of the Scots dialects

In Chapter 1 some preliminary discussion of the phonological differences between the various dialects of Scots was presented in an attempt to distinguish between them. In this chapter, however, an in-­depth discussion of these diverse phonologies will be given, with general material derived from Johnston (1997), the Linguistic Survey of Scotland (of which more details will be given in Chapter 4), works concentrated on one particular region, and my own observation and experience. Given the complex nature of the materials, each dialect area is treated independently from the others, although considerable comparison between dialects is made. At the beginning of the discussion of a word-­set using the vowel phonology of a dialect, a box will be given, relating pronunciation to the word-­sets already mentioned. For rapid reference and comparison these may be sufficient to inform the reader. Nuances and some constraints on pronunciation can be found in the deeper analysis. This level of complexity is not necessary with consonant use, however, since regional variation, while present, is relatively unimportant in relation to the identification of one area over another. While Scottish consonant pronunciation may sometimes be highly distinctive to outsiders, this is rarely the case within Scotland (and, indeed, the Scots-­speaking parts of Ireland). A distinction between traditional and urbanised dialect consonant use must be recognised and illustrated, however. 3.3.1  The vowel systems of Insular Scots

BUIT Box 3.2  BUIT in Insular Scots. Shetland

/y/ foot merged with KIT

Orkney

/y/, except foot foot merged with KIT Stronsay: merger with KIT; merger with MATE-HAME before /r/ and finally

In Insular Scots, the BUIT set is generally pronounced with a fronted round vowel, except with foot, which is merged with KIT (as is the case in practically all Scots dialects). This rounded front pronunciation represents, we believe, practically the only unchanged representative of this set’s original pronunciation across the whole of Scotland in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries (it is also preserved in pockets in western Angus



phonology 39

in the South Northern area). The actual pronunciation of the vowel in the Northern Isles varies from place to place and, possibly, person to person. Most common, perhaps, are either [y] (pronounced at the very top and front of the mouth, with rounded lips) or [ø] (pronounced somewhat lower in the mouth, but again with rounded lips), although more central pronunciations along the lines of [ʏ] are also heard. It should be noted that, on many occasions, it is difficult to distinguish between the vowel of BUIT and the vowel of OOT; transfers from BUIT to OOT, under the influence of Scottish Standard English pronunciation patterns, are at any rate fairly common, as they are in all Scots varieties. BUIT before /p/ in hoop or, to a lesser extent, /k/ (look or hook) realises OOT, replacing earlier /ju/. The sole exception to these patterns relates to the speech of the inhabitants of Stronsay, one of the islands of Orkney. Here BUIT is realised as /ɪ/ (KIT) in all positions except in final position or before /r/, where /e/ is used (MATE-­HAME). This is essentially the pattern found for BUIT in most Central, Southern and Ulster dialects. MEET Box 3.3  MEET in Insular Scots. Shetland

Some merger with BEAT die, fly, lie clean stane ‘stone’ Fair Isle: egg

Orkney

Some merger with BEAT die, fly, lie, king, kick, swim clean stane ‘stone’

There is some merger between MEET and BEAT in both Orkney and Shetland, although many lexical items merged with in the standard retain a distinct pronunciation, itself generally merged with MATE-­HAME. Die, fly and lie are MEET in both archipelagos. In Orkney, king, kick and swim also merge with MEET. Scots stane ‘stone’ is also MEET in many Insular varieties, a feature shared with many, but not all, Northern Scots dialects. On Fair Isle, the southernmost of the islands associated with Shetland, egg has a MEET vowel. Pronunciations of this type are also possible in speakers from other parts of Shetland; in particular, in my experience, in the western parts of Mainland. As is the case with Northern Scots, week and speak regularly transfer to KIT. This is, perhaps, more common in Shetland than Orkney.

40

modern scots

BEAT Box 3.4  BEAT in Insular Scots. Shetland

Generally merger with MATE-HAME; some merger with MEET

Orkney

Generally merger with MATE-HAME; some merger with MEET

Conversely, the pattern for BEAT is relatively straightforward in the Insular Scots varieties. While there is some merger with MEET, particularly with clean, and this is, of course, encouraged by the prevalence of Scottish Standard English norms, BEAT is normally represented not by /i/ but by a rather lower vowel along the lines of a somewhat open /e/ (in Orkney), somewhat retracted or diphthongised in Shetland – particularly marked, in my experience, in the equivalent to Standard English peat, a word with considerable and often localised heritage associations. This represents a merger with MATE-­HAME and is in line with patterns found elsewhere on the margins of the Scots-­(indeed the English-­) speaking world. This may represent an older pronunciation, formerly mainstream, now vestigial. In both Shetland and Orkney, as we have seen, there is a general merger between MATE-­HAME and BEAT. As in Scottish Standard English, a merger between MATE-­HAME and BAIT is also prevalent, although there are occasions throughout the area where the sets remain separate, in particular when preceding or following velar or /r/. MATE-­HAME Box 3.5  MATE-HAME in Insular Scots. Shetland

Generally merger with BAIT and BEAT clathes ‘clothes’ Whalsay: some palatalisation after velars: /je/ in cake

Orkney

Generally merger with BAIT and BEAT clathes ‘clothes’ Stronsay do; floor

As was noted above, original MATE-­ HAME merges with MEET before /n/, such as stane. On Whalsay in Shetland, a glide forms before MATE-­HAME when preceded by /k/. This produces a palatalisation effect on the consonant which will be discussed below. On the Orcadian island of Stronsay, BUIT merges with MATE-­HAME finally or before /r/.



phonology 41

BAIT Box 3.6  BAIT in Insular Scots. BAIT Shetland

Generally merger with MATE-HAME and BEAT Many DRESS words are also associated with this merger

Orkney

Generally merger with MATE-HAME and BEAT Many DRESS words are also associated with this merger

Insular BAIT is generally merged with MATE-­HAME and BEAT. There is also a tendency for DRESS to move into this set. The actual pronunciation of the vowel can vary considerably from one place to another in the archipelagos. In western Shetland, for instance, the vowel is high and can be easily confused with MEET, at least for o­ utsiders; in many parts of Orkney, on the other hand, a rather low front vowel is common, somewhat along the lines of [æ], approaching, but not fully merging with, the vowel heard in TRAP. Pay and way have a diphthongal pronunciation across the area which may place the words in a merger with BITE (although, as we will see, the ­diphthongal ­distribution in Insular Scots, and its relationship to vowel length, is not as clear-­cut as is the case in, for instance, Central Scots dialects). DRESS Box 3.7  DRESS in Insular Scots. Shetland

Some merger with BAIT, MATE-HAME, BEAT

Orkney

Some merger with BAIT, MATE-HAME, BEAT

Under most circumstances, the DRESS lexical set exhibits some evidence of merger with BAIT, MATE-­HAME and BEAT in both Orkney and Shetland. Merging with DRESS in both archipelagos are many words which, in Scottish Standard English, would have the START vowel, when that vowel precedes /r/, such as start and farm. Such an association is commonplace in all traditional Scots dialects. Less common, however, are DRESS pronunciations with war, far and warn. In Orkney DRESS merges with TRAP with the latter’s local pronunciation when preceded by /w/; this can be seen in words like well ‘place where water can be sourced’. This change is also regular on the Scottish mainland. The pronunciation of DRESS can vary considerably across the islands,

42

modern scots

with raising or diphthongisation being common in Shetland (as we have seen, on Fair Isle and residually elsewhere the vowel in egg merges with MEET; raising also happens in Orkney before /l/ with words like bell) while some Orkney speakers exhibit centred pronunciations. TRAP Box 3.8  TRAP in Insular Scots. TRAP Shetland

Wash, water, long, strong, top, off, loft Some merger or overlap with CAUGHT

Orkney

Wash, water, long, strong, top, off, loft Some merger or overlap with CAUGHT

With TRAP, Orkney and Shetland varieties generally – although not entirely – correspond to patterns similar to those realised in Scottish Standard English. In both varieties there is some overlap with CAUGHT, a point to which we will return. For both archipelagos a number of words are associated with this class which are generally associated with other classes in Scottish Standard English. These include wash, water, long, strong, top, off and loft. With a few exceptions, TRAP is generally pronounced with [æ] or [ɛ] or other front vowels in both Shetland and Orkney. Before /p/ and /k/ TRAP is regularly lengthened in Fair Isle and the southern and northern periphery of Orkney, so that cap, for instance, has a long vowel which, depending on specific place, can have a rounded or unrounded vowel realisation. On either occasion, merger with CAUGHT is the norm. Land and other members of that subset also merge with CAUGHT throughout the archipelagos, with unrounded or rounded backed pronunciations, depending on the local patterns. Rounded pronunciations of some TRAP members can be found in the northernmost islands of Orkney and, in particular perhaps, the northern islands of, Shetland, so that tattie ‘potato’ is realised as tottie, a pronunciation shared with some West Central dialects. This correspondence is likely to be due to chance, however. Words like start and arse generally merge with DRESS in Insular Scots, as they do in most parts of the Scots-­speaking world.



phonology 43

KIT Box 3.9  KIT in Insular Scots. KIT Shetland

hit, grin, flit, lid, bin, wind, hill, pill. foot speak

Orkney

hit, grin, flit, lid, bin, wind, hill, pill foot Stronsay: merger with BUIT, except before /r/ or finally

In both archipelagos Scots KIT is similar in distribution to that found in Scottish Standard English. Orkney varieties tend to have a more fronted pronunciation of KIT than is normal for Scots varieties, to the extent that the vowel may sound like MEET, at least to outsiders. In these varieties, hill and pill, often retracted to something at least approximating to STRUT in most Scots varieties, are fronted and may, at least to outsiders, sound like mergers with DRESS. In Shetland, however, much more central, even back, pronunciations are possible, suggesting at times a merger with STRUT. In Orcadian, there is a general tendency for merger with MEET with swim, king and often kick, a feature in line with many of the Northern dialects. Many Shetland varieties, however, share another feature with many Northern varieties: before /k/, MEET (or BEAT) words merge with KIT, something regularly found with speak and breeks ‘trousers’. On the Orcadian island of Stronsay, BUIT merges with KIT on all occasions except finally and before /r/. STRUT Box 3.10  STRUT in Insular Scots. Shetland

cup, muck, bun Distribution mainly as with Scottish Standard English

Orkney

cup, muck, bun Distribution mainly as with Scottish Standard English

Contrary to many of the other sets discussed here, the Insular use of the STRUT set is very similar to the distribution found in Scottish Standard English. There is some tendency towards lip rounding with the pronunciation of this vowel realised, from personal experience, in a range of place across both archipelagos, but perhaps more regularly in Orkney. As in Caithness and other North Northern varieties, dog is not a

44

modern scots

member of this set, as it is in most Scots dialects; instead, as we will see, it is a member of OWER. OOT Box 3.11  OOT in Insular Scots. Shetland

mouth, mouse, louse, court, course, coarse lowp ‘leap’, rowie ‘bread roll’ /j-/: duck, tough

Orkney

mouth, mouse, louse, court, course, coarse Often, BUIT before /r/ (poor, etc.) /j-/: duck, tough

With OOT, both Orkney and Shetland varieties generally realise a monophthong which is often central if not considerably retracted. Its distribution is essentially that found for all Scots dialects. As with the Northern and some northerly Central varieties, the vowel in the equivalent to English tough is /ju/ and therefore forms a subset of this set. Loup and other OWER words (including, sometimes, ower itself) are included in this set by some (but not all) Insular speakers. In Orcadian, BUIT before /r/ often has the OOT vowel. As we have already discussed, this tendency may be rather more widespread, with the BUIT vowel not always being distinguished fully from the OOT. The extent to which these connections are influenced by the patterns found for Scottish Standard English is difficult to decide conclusively. GOAT Box 3.12  GOAT in Insular Scots. Shetland

General move towards merger with CAUGHT Southern Shetland: merged with COT and CAUGHT

Orkney

General move towards merger with CAUGHT

In both archipelagos there is a general move towards merger between GOAT and COT; in southern Shetland the merger is between GOAT, COT and CAUGHT. In Orkney, on the other hand, a distinction is generally maintained between ford (/ford/) and cord (/kɔrd/). There is some tendency towards diphthongisation with GOAT across the islands, although this is by no means universal. Generally GOAT has a somewhat lower pronunciation than is the case in Central dialects.



phonology 45

COT and CAUGHT In Scottish Standard English – indeed in most varieties of Scots – COT and CAUGHT are merged. This is only partly the case in Insular Scots. Indeed, it is only in the southern varieties that complete merger between the two sets is the norm. In both archipelagos there are also moves towards merger between these two sets and GOAT and TRAP. Box 3.13  CAUGHT in Insular Scots. Shetland

Near-merger with COT and GOAT; move towards merger with TRAP Southern Shetland: merged with COT and GOAT move towards merger with TRAP

Orkney

Near-merger with COT and GOAT; move towards merger with TRAP

With CAUGHT a wide range of pronunciations are possible, many (very likely most) of which have a geographical association. In southern Shetland, for instance, a pronunciation not unlike – ironically – the equivalent in RP is found, while in North Ronaldsay in Orkney a rather front, unrounded and mid pronunciation can be heard. Although CAUGHT pronunciations are regularly found throughout the islands for -­ought words, diphthongal pronunciations are regularly present in these positions, particularly perhaps when /x/ is not pronounced. This implies a transfer to OWER. While carrying out fieldwork on Yell, one of the northern islands of Shetland, in 2005, I was told that a shibboleth of northern Yell was the pronunciation of loch with the OWER vowel. Box 3.14  COT in Insular Scots. Shetland

Partial merger with GOAT; move towards merger with TRAP Southern Shetland: merged with CAUGHT and GOAT; move towards merger with TRAP

Orkney

Partial merger with GOAT; near-merger with CAUGHT; move towards merger with TRAP Many OWER words included in this set

Before labials, COT is often entirely merged with TRAP. Thus, top is a member of TRAP in most Scots varieties. Some insular varieties go further, however, so that the first syllable of Norway has /a/. Elsewhere I have only heard this transfer regularly among speakers of traditional South Northern varieties, where the first syllable of Forfar, a town on the southern edge of that dialect area, again has /a/. With a few exceptions,

46

modern scots

COT and GOAT merge before plosives. In some Orkney varieties, many OWER words have shifted to this set, including, often, lowp ‘leap’ itself. By the same token, a number of insular varieties have ‘dog diphthongisation’, involving a transfer to OWER. One of the centres for this transfer is South Ronaldsay in Orkney, physically close to Caithness on the Scottish mainland, where the change is widespread. TRY and BITE Box 3.15  TRY in Insular Scots. Shetland

cry, buy, size five, drive, byre Not well distinguished from BITE

Orkney

cry, buy, size five, drive, byre Not well distinguished from BITE

Box 3.16  BITE in Insular Scots. Shetland

time, bride, guide way, pay boil, hoist, spoil, joiner, oil Not well distinguished from TRY

Orkney

time, bride, guide way, pay boil, hoist, spoil, joiner, oil Not well distinguished from TRY

As has already been discussed, the mainstream Scottish (and Ulster) pattern is that TRY and BITE are distinguished phonemically in most pronunciations. This is barely – if at all – the case with the Insular dialects, where the classes appear merged (or, perhaps more likely, the sets have never been distinguished). The distinction between the two sets is perhaps least appreciable in Orkney dialects; the problem sometimes is that people from other parts of the Scots-­speaking world – including me – hear their own separation pattern when exposed to accents which may not actually produce it fully. As with some South Northern varieties, there is a tendency for Shetland varieties to realise an open mid front monophthong in words like dyke ‘wall’. Whether there is a direct connection between the two varieties is not the purpose of this discussion.



phonology 47

OWER Box 3.17  OWER in Insular Scots. Shetland

rowie ‘roll’, bowl ‘kitchen depository’ Often, dog

Orkney

rowie, ‘roll’, bowl, ‘kitchen depository’ Often, old Often, dog

OWER is generally pronounced in the mainstream Scots way, although on the peripheries of both archipelagos more front pronunciations are prevalent. These resemble Caithness pronunciations; with Orkney pronunciations in particular there may be a connection between the insular and mainland counties, although similar pronunciations are also prevalent in Ulster, where a direct connection is unlikely. As well as the mainstream Scots members of this lexical set, speakers from both archipelagos have a strong tendency to include rowie ‘roll’ and bowl in this set. In Orkney in particular – but also in Shetland to some extent – dog is a member of this set; in Orkney this is also the case with old. There is also a tendency, as already discussed, for -­ought words to transfer to this set. Conversely, a number of OWER words – including ower itself – often transfer to OOT or GOAT in parts of the Insular region. CHOICE The CHOICE set is closely associated with mainstream pronunciations throughout the islands. The exceptions to this ‘rule’ are words like join and oil, which often merge with BITE (with the latter’s pronunciation) throughout the Scots-­speaking world. 3.3.2  The vowel systems of Northern Scots

Although most of the area in which Northern Scots is spoken is thinly populated, the geographical extent of the area is considerable. Many of the dialect regions are also not contiguous, whether that be through the presence of difficult terrains between dialect areas, such as that between Caithness and Scots-­speaking territories to its south, or the presence or former presence of speakers of another language between Scots-­speaking centres, as found in the recent past in the Black Isle. These features have probably encouraged the development of local particularism in speech just as they have encouraged local particularism in culture and tradition.

48

modern scots

BUIT Box 3.18  BUIT in Northern Scots. MNA

Merger with MEET, except school, good, cool: /wi/ Foot merged with KIT

MNB

Merger with MEET, except school, good, cool: /wi/ Foot merged with KIT

NNA

Merger with MEET Foot merged with KIT

NNB

Merger with MEET Foot merged with KIT

SN

Some merger with MEET; merger with MATE-HAME in south Kincardineshire and Angus Western Angus /y/ Foot merged with KIT

In most of the Northern area, BUIT is realised as /i/ and therefore merges with MEET. In all dialects, however, foot merges with KIT, following a pattern more normally associated with the Central and Southern dialects. It is likely that this apparent anomaly is preserved in order to avoid homophony between foot and feet (although this argument does not explain the similar distribution in the Insular dialects). In the Mid Northern varieties a further complication is present. While /i/ is the underlying realisation here as elsewhere in the north, the presence of a preceding velar plosive, whether voiced or voiceless, has traditionally triggered a prevocalic /w/. Thus ‘good’ is gweed /gwid/ and ‘school’ squeel /skwil/. This pronunciation, while still heard among older rural inhabitants and perpetuated in literature and popular drama, is highly recessive. As might be expected, South Northern represents a transitional zone between Northern and Central patterns with BUIT. In the northern parts of the Mearns /i/ pronunciations dominate. In southern Kincardineshire and in particular in most of Angus, however, BUIT is, with the exception, again, of foot, generally represented by a front unrounded vowel somewhat lower in the mouth than /i/, best represented as /e/. A merger between most of BUIT and MATE-­HAME (and often BEAT) is therefore the norm. This is the pattern normally realised in the most northerly of the Central dialects. In pockets in western Angus, however, in particular, perhaps, in my own experience, in the rural hinterland of Kirriemuir, rounded front vowel pronunciations along the lines of /y/ can be heard, particularly among older



phonology 49

members of the communities. As with the Northern Isles varieties, it is sometimes difficult to distinguish between this fully fronted vowel and OOT. The latter in many places is pronounced in the centre of the mouth, if not somewhat forward. In all northern dialects OOT is found with BUIT words before /v/, /ð/ and /z/ in words such as move or smooth. /ju/ has been retained by some speakers in words like hook, although again this pronunciation is recessive. It is the norm in teuch ‘tough’ and related words where these are related. It is regularly retained in place names, such as Feugh /fjux/, a tributary of the River Dee. Scottish Standard English /u/ (OOT) pronunciations are inevitably becoming increasingly prevalent throughout the Northern dialects, even in intimate and relaxed contexts. Box 3.19  MEET in Northern Scots. MNA

Generally merger with BUIT Generally merger with BEAT die, fly, lie, king, wet, change clean stane ‘stone’

MNB

Generally merger with BUIT Generally merger with BEAT die, fly, lie, king, wet, change clean

NNA

Generally merger with BUIT Some merger with BEAT die, fly, lie, wet clean Nairn: kick

NNB

Some merger with BEAT die, fly, lie, king, kick, swim, wet, change clean

SN

Generally merger with BEAT die, fly, lie, wet, change clean stane ‘stone’

In general MEET words are pronounced /i/ in the Northern dialects. There is some evidence, however, that a diphthongal pronunciation has been replaced by a monophthongal one throughout the region; pronunciation of the presumed earlier diphthongal type survives phonetically in the traditional dialects of Caithness. Bearing in mind the exceptions discussed above, MEET generally merges with BUIT throughout the

50

modern scots

region. Less thoroughgoing, but still prevalent, is a merger between MEET and BEAT; the latter is, naturally, encouraged by the near-­ universal completion of this merger in Scottish Standard English. Throughout the region die, fly, lie and wet are members of MEET. In a number of varieties, other words are added to the set. These include change (Mid Northern and Caithness) and king (all varieties except those of the Black Isle and Nairn and South Northern). Caithness speakers are inclined to have MEET where KIT is normal elsewhere. Wick itself, for instance, is /wik/ to locals (who are often referred to as Dirdy Weekers). Other pronunciations, such as /kik/ for kick, are found patchily in other North Northern areas as well as Caithness. Conversely, MEET words before /k/ are often pronounced with a KIT vowel in Mid Northern. Oil Week (SPE Offshore Europe Conference & Exhibition, held every September in Aberdeen), for instance, is often / əil wɪk/. This ‘shortening’, if it can be termed such, is also found with BEAT before /k/, so that speak is /spɪk/. In Aberdeenshire, most of Banffshire and the most northerly part of Kincardineshire, as well as Caithness Scots -­ane, which elsewhere in Northern is /en/, is /in/, so that ane ‘one’ is een and stane ‘stone’ is steen. This merger is not the norm in Moray, however. BEAT Box 3.20  BEAT in Northern Scots. MNA

Generally merger with MEET; some merger with MATEHAME

MNB

Generally merger with MEET; some merger with MATEHAME

NNA

Generally merger with MATE-HAME; some merger with MEET

NNB

Generally merger with MATE-HAME; some merger with MEET

SN

Generally merger with MEET; some merger with MATEHAME South Kincardineshire and Angus: dyke

Considerable differentiation exists in terms of association and pronunciation in relation to BEAT. Some Northern varieties realise a merger between MEET and BEAT (the pronunciation pattern, of course, found with Scottish Standard English), although remnants of an apparent merger (or at least association) between BEAT and MATE-­HAME can



phonology 51

be found. Other varieties, however, prioritise the latter merger, between BEAT and MATE-­HAME, over the merger between BEAT and MEET; on most occasions, however, elements of the latter are also present and may well be encouraged by the influence of the Scottish Standard English pattern. Interestingly, the BEAT-­MEET merger is particularly strong within the Mid Northern area, while the BEAT/MATE-­HAME merger is more prevalent both in northerly and southerly parts of the Northern region. It might be claimed – although it would be impossible to document fully – that the pattern which resembles that of Standard English is an innovation radiating from the economic and demographic centre of the region, while the alternative patterns, associated with pronunciations previously commonplace in English but now confined to ‘marginal’ dialects such as parts of Ireland, represents an earlier reality. It should be noted, however, that Mid Northern dialects, as our discussion of MEET above demonstrates, show a tendency towards higher front pronunciation with more words from these classes in particular, so that phonological explanations for the distinction are possible. Some speakers from coastal Moray follow the apparently older and recessive BEAT/MATE-­HAME pronunciation pattern, however. It may not be purely chance that these communities look out – both physically and, at least in historical terms, culturally and occupationally – across the Moray Firth towards Caithness (whose mountains are visible on a clear day). The fact that these communities are rather self-­contained (at least in relation to their landward neighbours) and possibly inward looking might also explain this distinction. In all dialects there is a tendency for to be /i/ in final position, so that lea ‘leave’ is generally /li/, no matter the normal associations of BEAT in that variety. Conversely, tea regularly follows the local BEAT pronunciations. Some speakers of traditional Mid Northern varieties – such as those of inland Buchan – regularly pronounce this word as /te/, even if the prevailing BEAT pronunciation is /i/. Coastal Buchan people pronounce the word as /ti/, however. In the North-­ East in particular, some BEAT words become members of BITE. Perhaps the most prevalent words associated with this change are swyte ‘sweat’ and gryte ‘great’. Less obviously a member of this class is quine ‘girl, young woman’, which may be the same word as archaic English quean ‘young woman (of ill repute)’, although some derive it from queen. As with many other varieties of Scots, head, dead and bread, along with well (adverb) and a range of other words, are associated with whatever the local BEAT pronunciation is. In Mid Northern /hid/ is the norm for head, for instance, while I have regularly heard /hed/ for this word

52

modern scots

in the South Northern area in particular. Breath, however, merges with MATE-­HAME in all areas, no matter the BEAT pronunciation. Beat ‘beaten’ is also associated with MATE-­HAME, as is death in almost all of the region, although many traditional Mid Northern speakers say dede / did/. Heart is always a member of DRESS. MATE-­HAME Box 3.21  MATE-HAME in Northern Scots. MNA

Merger with BAIT and DRESS Some palatalisation before or after velars: see TRAP

MNB

stane ‘stone’, clathes ‘clothes’ Some palatalisation before or after velars: see TRAP

NNA

Generally merger with BAIT and BEAT stane ‘stone’, pay

NNB

Merger with BAIT and BEAT by some speakers stane ‘stone’, clathes ‘clothes’ pay

SN

Incomplete merger with BAIT Merger with BUIT in south Kincardineshire and most of Angus clathes ‘clothes’

In Mid Northern varieties MATE-­HAME is normally merged with BAIT and DRESS. The place of pronunciation for this grouping varies across the region. In some places a sound along the lines of [e] is the norm (in Aberdeen, for instance, ken ‘know’ is often [ken]; in others, such as the Laigh of Moray, a lower vowel rather like [ɛ] is commonplace. This is often perceived as a shibboleth. Phonetically diphthongal pronunciations are also possible in some districts with some speakers; in my own experience this is particularly true for the upland areas to the west of the region: ‘diphthongal’ speakers can briefly be heard as ‘Northern English’ by outsiders who perceive the pronunciation distinction as phonemic rather than phonetic. In Caithness there is generally a merger with BEAT and BAIT, but not with DRESS; on the Black Isle this situation is rather more absolute. In South Northern there is an incomplete merger with BAIT. As has already been discussed, some South Northern varieties demonstrate a merger between MATE-­HAME and BEAT. In the south of the region BUIT is regularly merged with MATE-­HAME, as is the case in the northerly Central dialects. While a vowel similar to [e] is normal throughout the region, diphthongal pronunciations are



phonology 53

common in North Northern in particular; their prevalence is particularly strong in Caithness where, although the distinction is essentially phonetic and there is no merger with BITE, the pronunciation is often marked orthographically in local dialect literature. As has already been discussed, mainstream Scots /en/ in words like stane is pronounced /in/ in both Aberdeenshire and Caithness. MATE-­HAME pronunciations are regular in Scottish Standard English make and take. These are normally members of TRAP in these and other Scots-­speaking communities. Cake is, however, normally MATE-­ HAME, except in a considerable number of communities situated on the north coast of the North-­East in particular, or in its immediate hinterland, where it, along with a range of other words (such as caird ‘vagabond’), has become a member of TRAP (often with a perceived long vowel) with the addition of a /j/ glide before the vowel (thus cake is /kjak/ and is often spelled cyaak). This palatalisation may once have been more widespread: the village across the Howe o the Mearns from where I live – Fettercairn – is normally /ˈfɛtərkern/ (regularly with glottal pronunciation of /t/) for locals. Many people from across the mountains in Aberdeenshire say /ˈfɛderkjarn/, albeit in a marked way which suggests that this is a ‘fossilised’ pronunciation. In South Northern the equivalent to English clothes has a MATE-­HAME vowel, in line with the usage of the Central and Southern dialects. All other Northern dialects have a BITE vowel with this word. In the North Northern dialects /er/ becomes /ɛr/. This is in line with (although probably entirely independent from) the norms of some West Central and Ulster varieties. It is, however, one of the reasons why Caithness speakers are often taken for Irish people, even by other Scottish people, albeit momentarily. BAIT Box 3.22  BAIT in Northern Scots. MNA

Merged with MATE-HAME and DRESS

MNB

Generally merger with MATE-HAME, DRESS

NNA

Generally merger with MATE-HAME, BEAT

NNB

Merger with MATE-HAME and BEAT by some speakers

SN

Kincardineshire: generally merger with MATE-HAME, BAIT Angus: BAIT distinguished from MATE-HAME

BAIT is essentially merged with MATE-­HAME in all pronunciations of Scottish Standard English. Similar patterns are discernible in some

54

modern scots

Northern Scots varieties; all dialects evince patterns which have tendencies in the direction of this merger. There is a ‘fraying around the edges’, however, both in terms of the integrity of the patterns and the geographical reach of the merger. In the Mid Northern A varieties – those largely spoken in Aberdeenshire – the BAIT/ MATE-­HAME merger is practically that of Scottish Standard English, with the proviso that a merger with DRESS is also usually present, a feature which is not normally prevalent in the standard variety. The vowel for all three is pronounced somewhat lower in the mouth than in Central dialects. To the west in Moray, however, BAIT is often distinct, having a lower pronunciation close to [ɛ]. In South Northern, Kincardineshire dialects (with the exception, from experience, of the southernmost parts of the county) realise, like Aberdeenshire, a merger of BAIT with MATE-­ HAME. While this pattern may be heard in Angus, many Scots speakers maintain a distinction between the two word-­sets, with BAIT often being represented in a pronunciation not unlike that found for Moray. North Northern is split on this matter. The Black Isle dialects generally favoured a merger between MATE-­HAME and BAIT (and, on this occasion, BEAT). In Caithness rather more varied patterns prevail. Some speakers merge all three word-­sets in a similar way to those found to their south. Others do not merge any of them; some retain BAIT as a separate set. It appears that the larger the settlement is in which you live, the more likely you are to use the complete merger, with the three way split being associated with country districts. Some Caithness speakers who treat BAIT as distinct give it a diphthongal pronunciation. Some or words have diphthongal pronunciations across the Northern area, most noticeably way. Most speakers also pronounce pay diphthongally, although, for Caithness speakers, this word is a mainstream member of BAIT. These words generally merge with TRY, unlike in Southern and Central varieties, where the merger is with BITE. DRESS Box 3.23  DRESS in Northern Scots. MNA

Merged with MATE-HAME and BAIT

MNB

Distribution mainly as with SSE

NNA

Distribution mainly as with SSE

NNB

Distribution mainly as with SSE

SN

Distribution mainly as with SSE Southern Angus and Dundee: bag



phonology 55

In the Aberdeenshire heartland of Northern Scots there is, as we have already seen, a general merger in traditional speech between DRESS, MATE-­HAME and BAIT. This coalescence is not mirrored anywhere else in the region, where DRESS remains separate from other word classes under most circumstances. Indeed the distribution of DRESS within these dialects is essentially that of Scottish Standard English, even when the pronunciation may differ significantly, as is the case, for instance, with the diphthongal pronunciations sometimes heard in the coastal districts of Moray (and in pockets as far south as Angus). In southern Angus and Dundee, for instance, bag is regularly transferred to DRESS. Words where DRESS follows /w/ such as well ‘place for drawing water’, on the other hand, are transferred to TRAP (a change found intermittently elsewhere in Scots) throughout the area. As we will see below, Northern dialects maintain a pronunciation distinction between and , the latter being realised as /vr/. Perhaps because of the underlying /w/, DRESS vowels when following , such as wretch (local vratch), also transfer to TRAP. Web is often part of this change, although in some communities it merges with COT. As with other dialects of Scots, TRAP often merges with DRESS before /r/, so that start is /stɛrt/. In some southern South Northern varieties, including on this occasion Dundee, general Scots /er/ becomes / ɛr/. Because of its regular employment, this is most noticeable, perhaps, in bairn ‘child’. From personal observation I would say that this merger is at least sporadically heard across the northern parts of the South Northern region and in Aberdeen. In most of the region DRESS remains distinct from KIT and STRUT before /r/. In Caithness, however, there is a general merger under these circumstances between this set and KIT and STRUT; this merger is often also heard in the Black Isle and Nairn. This merger represents a further reason why Caithness speakers can be taken as Irish. TRAP Box 3.24  TRAP in Northern Scots. MNA

Wash, water, long, strong, top, off, loft Some merger or overlap with CAUGHT Some palatalisation before or after velars: /ja/ in bake, cake

MNB

Wash, water, long, strong, top, off, loft Some merger or overlap with CAUGHT Some palatalisation before or after velars: /ja/ in bake, cake

56

modern scots

NNA

Wash, water, top, off, loft Long and strong are not members of TRAP for all speakers Some merger or overlap with CAUGHT

NNB

Wash, water, long, strong, top, off, loft Some merger or overlap with CAUGHT

SN

Wash, water, long, strong, top, off, loft Some merger or overlap with CAUGHT

Throughout the Northern varieties there is a tendency for TRAP to move towards merger with CAUGHT, so that, for instance, cat and caught may be homophones. This appears to be an ongoing process, centred on Mid Northern (although not complete even there) and apparently only beginning to spread in Caithness, where the movement towards merger is presently confined to the population centres of Wick and Thurso. The pronunciation of TRAP varies significantly across the region: fronted realisations (sometimes realised as far forward as [æ], a vowel which outsiders sometimes hear as /ɛ/), are often heard in Caithness (a region given to front pronunciations for other vowel sets). In the Mid Northern area, however, [ɑ], a low back unrounded vowel, is often heard in these contexts. This backed pronunciation may now be becoming a rural feature, associated with the speech of older residents with an agricultural background: younger Aberdonians at least seem to favour a pronunciation somewhat back from [a]. The fully back pronunciation is, to outsiders, something of a stereotype of Northern speech (this identification may, of course, be one of the reasons it is avoided by the middle-­class urban young from the Northern region). following /w/, as in wash or water, is regularly a member of TRAP throughout the region. In Mid Northern, however, there is a tendency for the vowel in these words to be close to, often actually the same as, STRUT. The same tendency can be found in the stressed vowel in Grampian and, often, Frank. TRAP is also the norm for top, loft and off. Long and strong are also part of this set in most of the region, although they are LOT in the Black Isle and Nairn, thereby mirroring (whether by chance or not) the pattern of Scotttish Standard English. On the other hand, the equivalent to English man may be a member of LOT in many of these varieties (a pronunciation now mainly heard in phrases such as Faar hiv ye been, man?), although a pronunciation aligned with STRUT is probably more prevalent now. As we have just seen, the vowel in the equivalent to where is TRAP throughout the region, whether the initial consonant is /f/ or nothing. This is in line with the pronunciation of the Scots equivalents to words like all, fall and call, all



phonology 57

of which have TRAP with, as we have come to expect, no following /l/. In southern Angus and Dundee there is a tendency for bag to be transferred to DRESS. As we saw in our discussion of MATE-­HAME, the equivalent to words like bake and cake has, in the Mid Northern varieties, TRAP, preceded by /j/: byaak and cyaak. A related phenomenon can be found where what are CAUGHT vowels in Central dialects in final position are apparently replaced by a sequence /j/ + TRAP + /v/. In traditional dialect snow is snyaave /snjav/ and ‘seagull’ can be myaave (Central Scots maw; archaic English mew, as discussed further in the next chapter). From experience the phenomenon is most commonly heard now in tyaave (sometimes spelled chauve) ‘struggle manfully, survive’, the equivalent of the now rare Central taw (which I know only through its derivative tawse, the leather strap used in schools for corporal punishment until outlawed when I was around fifteen years old). This word survives well, I believe, because it forms part of a stereotypical (and often comic, when said in a particularly lugubrious way) greeting and response: ‘Fit like?’ ‘Jist tyaavin awaa’ (‘How are you?’ ‘Just struggling away’). KIT Box 3.25  KIT in Northern Scots. MNA

hit, grin, flit, ‘move house’, hill, pill foot speak, week, breeks ‘trousers’

MNB

hit, grin, flit, hill, pill foot speak, week, breeks ‘trousers’

NNA

hit, grin, flit, wind, hill, pill foot

NNB

hit, grin, flit, lid, bin, wind, hill, pill foot

SN

hit, grin, flit foot speak, week, breeks ‘trousers’

Generally, the distribution of the Northern Scots KIT set is not terribly different from the Scottish Standard English equivalent. There are some relatively small-­scale distinctions, however. Uniquely for BUIT in these dialects, foot is a member of KIT. In Mid Northern and South Northern varieties, final /k/ encourages the shift of an original /i/ to /ɪ/ in words

58

modern scots

like breeks ‘trousers’ (often /brɪks/ in these areas; I have observed that locals seem generally unaware that /briks/ is the traditional equivalent elsewhere in Scotland and that the ‘Doric’ form is not unique – possibly this is due to the word being more current in the North-­East than it is generally). Throughout the region, with the exception of South Northern, king and swim have a tendency of forming part of the MEET set. In the North Northern varieties kick has also undergone this switch. Wind and a number of other words have either moved towards, or actually joined, STRUT. In Caithness KIT before /r/ merges with STRUT and DRESS in the same context; in Nairn there is a merger between KIT /r/ and STRUT before /r/. DRESS before /r/ remains outside the merger, however. On all occasions the result of the merger is /ər/; in all other Northern areas KIT plus /r/ remains /ɪr/. Rather central to back pronunciations of KIT are prevalent throughout the north, although quite front and high pronunciations can be heard. Locals appear sometimes to interpret pronunciations of this type as being Heilan ‘Highland’, perhaps even associating it with the speaking of Gaelic, although it can be heard in areas – such as in some settlements on the coast of Kincardineshire – where such an influence, unless through seasonal migration to the fishing and for the harvest, is unlikely. STRUT Box 3.26  STRUT in Northern Scots. MNA

cup, muck, bun, wind, dog want

MNB

cup, muck, bun, wind

NNA

cup, muck, bun lid, bin

NNB

cup, muck, bun

SN

cup, muck, bun, wind, dog hill, pill

There are also many similarities between the distribution of STRUT in Northern Scots and Scottish Standard English. As we have already seen, a number of KIT words – such as wind – generally transfer to this set (indeed KIT and STRUT are often quite similar in their pronunciations across the regions, with momentary transfers regularly happening). While most speakers use a pronunciation of the /ʌ/ type, lip rounding can sometimes be heard, particularly on the periphery of the Mid Northern area. A number of words which have /u/ in Scottish



phonology 59

Standard English, such as bull and pull, often have STRUT in these and other varieties of Scots (the latter word can also be pronounced /pu/). As noted above, Mid Northern varieties often have STRUT in wash, watter and the first syllable of Grampian. There is a marked tendency among even rather genteel middle-­class Aberdonians to pronounce bother as /ˈbʌðər/. In South Northern and most of Mid Northern, with the exception of some westerly fishing communities, dog is included in STRUT; the North Northern varieties and these transitional dialects include dog in OWER, however. OOT Box 3.27  OOT in Northern Scots. MNA

mouth, mouse, louse, court, course, coarse /j-/: duck, tough vestigial /j-/: hook, poor

MNB

mouth, mouse, louse, court, course, coarse /j-/: duck, tough vestigial /j-/: hook, poor

NNA

mouth, mouse, louse, court, course, coarse /j-/: duck, tough, hook, poor

NNB

mouth, mouse, louse, court, course, coarse /j-/: duck, tough, hook, poor

SN

mouth, mouse, louse, court, course, coarse /j-/: duck, tough vestigial /j-/: hook, poor

The pronunciation of OOT in Northern Scots appears to be changing; a fundamental cause for this are changes ongoing throughout Scots. Until the 1970s, Mid Northern varieties – including Aberdeen – had an OOT pronunciation back from centre in the mouth and possibly fully back. Central or front of centre pronunciations, radiating from the Central Belt over a number of decades, had reached the southerly parts of South Northern by that point. It would not have been unreasonable to predict that the front pronunciations would take another generation at least before they reached Aberdeen. This did not happen, however. By the beginning of the 1980s, back pronunciations were largely confined in the Mid Northern area to older rural residents in Moray. By the second decade of the twenty-­first century the pronunciation was beginning to disappear even in those areas (although, perhaps ironically, I occasionally hear more back pronunciations in the speech of

60

modern scots

older people from the South Northern area). More back pronunciations are still to be heard in the Nairn area and were prevalent on the Black Isle. Caithness speech has long had fronted (often very fronted) OOT pronunciations. It is likely that developments there have no conection to the spread of fronted pronunciations from the Central dialects described below. GOAT Box 3.28  GOAT in Northern Scots. MNA

General move towards merger with CAUGHT; partial merger with COT /j-/: poke ‘bag’; boke ‘vomit’

MNB

General move towards merger with CAUGHT; partial merger with COT /j-/: poke ‘bag’; boke ‘vomit’

NNA

General move towards merger with CAUGHT

NNB

General move towards merger with CAUGHT

SN

General move towards merger with CAUGHT; partial merger with COT

There is a general tendency of merger between GOAT and other historically back vowel sets in Northern Scots, although this is rarely complete in any one region. Most common across the dialects is merger with CAUGHT, with at least some merger with COT also being prevalent in South Northern and Mid Northern varieties. The set is normally pronounced somewhat back and may be somewhat lower than the prevalent pronunciation in more southern regions. Some centring or even fronting is possible in Mid Northern; diphthongisation can be heard along the Highland Line. In North Northern varieties there is a tendency for GOAT members to shift to OWER before /b/ and /g/, as in words like rogue; a similar phenomenon can also be found before /p/ in some of the most north-­westerly of the Mid Northern varieties, so that the local pronunciation of the first vowel in Hopeman, a small fishing community to the north of Elgin, is a member of OWER. In the Mid Northern varieties, a semi-­vocalic glide /j/ develops before GOAT when following /p/ or /b/: poke ‘bag’ is /pjok/, while boak ‘vomit’ is / bjok/. In Caithness varieties in particular low variants of GOAT are preferred to MATE-­HAME equivalents in words like hame. These are likely to represent importations from Scottish Standard English, but may not be perceived by locals as such.



phonology 61

CAUGHT and COT Box 3.29  CAUGHT in Northern Scots. MNA

Near-merger with COT; move towards merger with GOAT; move towards merger with TRAP

MNB

Near-merger with COT; move towards merger with TRAP

NNA

Near-merger with COT; move towards merger with TRAP

NNB

Near-merger with COT; move towards merger with TRAP

SN

Merger or near-merger with COT; move towards merger with GOAT

In general there is a strong tendency for CAUGHT and COT to be merged in the Northern varieties, although this does not fully coincide with the complete merger prevalent in the Central and Southern varieties. As we have seen, a tendency – perhaps of a lesser sort – also exists towards merger with GOAT. A similar tendency exists towards merger with TRAP. Cat, caa’t ‘call/turn it’ and caught are therefore often homophones. In southern forms at least of South Northern, however, it is common to have a rounded pronunciation – rather like Scottish Standard English – for cot at least, and probably caught; this may represent influence from Central dialects emanating from Dundee. The fact that Caithness dialects often have highly fronted pronunciations for TRAP also lessens the force of making some of these connections, although it does not cancel them out entirely. Box 3.30  COT in Northern Scots. MNA

Partial merger with GOAT; near-merger with CAUGHT; move towards merger with TRAP

MNB

Near-merger with CAUGHT; move towards merger with TRAP

NNA

Near-merger with CAUGHT; move towards merger with TRAP

NNB

Near-merger with CAUGHT

SN

Merger or near-merger with CAUGHT; move towards merger with GOAT; move towards merger with TRAP

Most of the necessary connections for COT in Northern Scots have already been discussed. There is a general tendency for that set to be pronounced somewhat lower in the mouth in North Northern (and some peripheral north-­west Mid Northern varieties, such as those of

62

modern scots

the fishing communities of Moray and Nairn) than in mainstream Mid Northern, meaning that there is less likelihood of merger with GOAT; it also makes the set at least partly separate from CAUGHT. As reported elsewhere, some members of COT in Scottish Standard English may be placed in STRUT in Northern Scots, while others may be found in OWER. TRY and BITE Box 3.31  TRY in Northern Scots. MNA

cry, buy, size way, pay

MNB

cry, buy, size way, pay

NNA

cry, buy, size five, drive, byre For some speakers: way, pay

NNB

cry, buy, size For some speakers: way, pay

SN

cry, buy, size five, drive, byre

On most if not all occasions, unlike the Insular Scots varieties, the Northern Scots dialects evince the same phonemic distinction between TRY and BITE found in Central and Southern dialects. There are some relatively small-­scale differences in distribution, however. In Central Scots, for instance, wey ‘way’ is a member of BITE while fire and byre ‘cow house’ are members of TRY. The opposite is generally the case in Northern Scots (with the exception of most South Northern varieties), however, meaning, for example, that buyer and byre, homophones in central and southern Scotland, are a minimal pair for at least some Northern speakers. Box 3.32  BITE in Northern Scots. MNA

time, bride, guide boil, hoist, spoil, joiner, oil wyme ‘belly’ quine ‘girl’; sweat clythes ‘clothes’ fire, five, byre /w-/: coat, coal



phonology 63

MNB

time bride, guide boil, hoist, spoil, joiner, oil wyme ‘belly’ quine’girl’; sweat clythes ‘clothes’ fire, five, byre

NNA

time, bride, guide For some speakers: way, pay boil, hoist, spoil, joiner, oil wyme ‘belly’

NNB

time, bride, guide For some speakers: way, pay boil, hoist, spoil, joiner, oil wyme ‘belly’ For some speakers: merger or near-merger with CHOICE

SN

time, bride, guide way, pay boil, hoist, spoil, joiner, oil wyme ‘belly’

With BITE, considerable variation from the Scottish Standard English norm is present. As with most other Scots dialects, boil, hoist, spoil, joiner and oil are members of BITE; wame ‘belly’, elsewhere a member of MATE-­ HAME, forms part of BITE throughout the region; the same redistribution can also be found for clathes ‘clothes’, but only in Mid Northern. In Mid Northern, BITE also includes quine ‘girl’, swyte ‘sweat’ and gryte ‘great’. In Aberdeenshire in particular speakers of very traditional varieties may well pronounce coat and coal with BITE, preceded by /kw/. In Caithness some speakers evince a merger or near-­merger of BITE and CHOICE. Again, this pronunciation may sound ‘Irish’ to outsiders. OWER Box 3.33  OWER in Northern Scots. MNA

lowp, rowie ‘roll’, bowl ‘kitchen depository’ North coast: hope

MNB

owp, rowie ‘roll’, bowl ‘kitchen depository’ dog North coast: hope

NNA

lowp, rowie ‘roll’, bowl ‘kitchen depository’ old dog

64

modern scots

NNB

lowp, rowie ‘roll’, bowl ‘kitchen depository’ dog

SN

lowp, rowie ‘roll’, bowl ‘kitchen depository’

OWER vowels can be pronounced in a variety of positions in the mouth in Northern Scots, with fronted pronunciations becoming more prevalent in more southern parts, more retracted pronunciations being heard in the centre and, predictably, markedly front pronunciations being the norm in Caithness. OWER distribution is fairly regular across the Scots-­speaking world. In the north, however, a few locally marked pronunciations are regularly heard, the most striking of which being, perhaps, the presence of through in this set. Lowp ‘leap; jump’, rowie ‘bread roll; in particular, Aberdeen buttery’ and bowl ‘kitchen depository’ are members of OWER throughout the region. As we have seen, dog and old are members of this set in parts of the region (normally towards its more northern end). In Mid Northern, few and dew are often pronounced with /j/ + OWER. In more northerly varieties some speakers use an OOT pronunciation with some OWER words (including, sometimes and confusingly for our purposes, ower itself). CHOICE Box 3.34  CHOICE in Northern and Insular Scots. CHOICE MNA

boy, toy, ploy

MNB

boy, toy, ploy

NNA

boy, toy, ploy

NNB

boy, toy, ploy For some speakers: merger or near-merger with BITE

SN

boy, toy, ploy

Shetland

boy, toy, ploy

Orkney

boy, toy, ploy

With the exception of the apparent transfer of some CHOICE words to BITE discussed above, there is not that much to say about the use of CHOICE in Northern Scots. One exception to this, however, is that many Caithness speakers present at the very least a near-­merger in all contexts between this set and BITE.



phonology 65

3.3.3  The vowel systems of Central Scots

As has already been mentioned, the Central dialects of Scots represent the ‘norm’ for Scots as a whole. This status is not necessarily due to the universal applicability of their sound patterns – indeed, they are often ‘aberrant’ in relation to rather more ‘straightforward’ patterns in other dialects. Essentially the view taken by non-­specialists (and a number of specialists) that the Central dialects are the ‘norm’ is based upon the number of speakers the dialects have and the influence of the urban cultures in which many of these speakers live and work upon speakers of other varieties. While all of the Central dialects bear many similarities to each other, an east-­west distinction is still possible. Nevertheless, it makes a great deal more functional sense to discuss the Central dialects as one unit, while at the same time moving westwards from the east in our analysis, since it could be argued that the western dialects are more innovative (and also more closely aligned with Ulster Scots). BUIT Box 3.35  BUIT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Generally merged with KIT, except finally or before /r/, where there is a merger with MATE-HAME. The latter merger is also possible for use. Some northerly varieties may sporadically merge entirely with MATE-HAME – or a vowel closer to DRESS. hook /juk/; duck /djuk/

Generally merged with KIT, except finally and before /r/, where there is merger with MATE-HAME. Some more northerly dialects may have full merger with MATE-HAME in all contexts. hook and duck have /j/ + STRUT; muir has /j/ + OOT

In relation to BUIT, in most sub-­dialects of East Central there is general merger with BIT, so that Scots buit ‘boot’ is a homophone of bit. A minor pattern works within (and in some senses against) this overarching pattern. In final position and before /r/, BUIT is realised as /e/, so that shuir, cognate to English sure, is a homophone of share; there is, therefore, a partial merger with MATE-­HAME. Some small-­scale patterns also exist. The East Central equivalent to English hook is /juk/, particularly, although not exclusively, when referring to a sickle (or

66

modern scots

related implement) rather than a fish hook, while duck is /djuk/. This is in line with the pronunciation of muir ‘moor’ as /mjur/. Most of the same patterns exist for West Central dialects as found with mainstream East Central varieties, with the proviso that, while muir has /j/ plus OOT, hook and duck have /j/ plus STRUT. I can hear my mother, in a moment of exasperation, telling me ‘ye didna bother yer deuck’ /djʌk/. More northerly dialects from the East Central area realise a rather different pattern with this word set. Ignoring the minor exceptions mentioned in the last paragraph, members of BUIT are generally merged wholly with MATE-­HAME in these areas, as is the case with many of the South Northern varieties spoken across the ‘border’. MEET and BEAT Box 3.36  MEET in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Generally merged with BEAT. die, lie, fly

Generally merged with BEAT. die, lie, fly king in westerly dialects

Box 3.37  BEAT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Generally merged with MEET. Some northerly varieties maintain some distinction between MEET and BEAT, with the latter tending to merge with MATE-HAME. head, bread death, breath merge with MATE-HAME

Generally merged with MEET. Some northerly varieties incline towards merger with MATE-HAME. head, dead death, breath merge with MATE-HAME

In most East Central dialects full merger has taken place between MEET and BEAT word-­sets. In the most northerly varieties, however, some distinction is maintained between the two sets. On these occasions, BEAT tends to merge – at least with certain words – with MATE-­HAME. As with most Scots dialects, die, lie and fly merge with MEET; head and bread with BEAT. Death and breath, however, merge with MATE-­HAME. In West Central essentially the same patterns are found as with East Central. In more westerly varieties, however, king is also part of the



phonology 67

MEET set; this is in line, of course, with many Northern dialects. It probably represents the survival of what was once a more widespread usage. Whereas in East Central (as is the case for many other Scots varieties), wet is a member of MEET, in West Central it is a member of TRAP. MATE-­HAME and BAIT Box 3.38  MATE-HAME in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Generally merged with BAIT. In some northerly varieties, some merger with BEAT. In most varieties, BUIT merges with MATE-HAME in final position and before /r/; in some northerly varieties, this merger can be found in all positions. death, breath ane ‘one’: northerly varieties – /en/; southerly varieties – /jɪn/

Generally merged with BAIT. General merger with BUIT finally or before /r/; complete merger with BUIT in some northerly varieties. Some northerly varieties incline towards merger with BEAT. death, breath In northerly varieties, ane ‘one’; in central and southern, /jɪn/ In southerly varieties, twaw ‘two’ In south Argyll, dyke occasionally MATE-HAME air merges with DRESS in some urban areas

In the East Central dialects, MATE-­ HAME generally merges with BAIT; as has already been noted, there is some merger with BEAT. In most varieties, BUIT merges with MATE-­HAME in final position and before /r/; in some northern varieties, there is a full merger between BUIT and MATE-­HAME in all positions. Death and breath form part of this word-­set in all varieties. The pronunciation of ane ‘one’ varies across the region. In the north and more traditional rural areas the numeral is pronounced with /e/; in most of the region, however, it is pronounced /jɪn/. This pronunciation appears to be spreading, possibly under the covertly prestigious influence of the language of the Clydeside conurbation. In southerly West Central dialects – in particular southern Ayrshire – the vowel in twaw ‘two’ is MATE-­HAME. Dyke occasionally merges with MATE-­HAME in the Scots-­speaking communities of southern Argyll; as we have seen, this distribution is also present in some Insular and Northern dialects. On the other hand, air merges with DRESS in some urban areas. Originally purely Glaswegian (and possibly specific

68

modern scots

parts of Glasgow to begin with), this feature has been spreading gradually into Renfrewshire, Dunbartonshire and Lanarkshire over the last fifty years and may also be heard in the traditional urbanised varieties of Ayrshire, Stirlingshire and beyond; just recently I have begun to hear it in working-­class Edinburgh speech. Box 3.39  BAIT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

General merger with MATE-HAME. pay, way, change merge with BITE

General merger with MATE-HAME. pay, way, change merge with BITE

In relation to BAIT, the most striking feature with all Central dialects – as with so many others – is that the smaller-­scale lexical sets represented in English by pay, way and change merge with BITE. Otherwise, merger with MATE-­HAME is the norm. DRESS Box 3.40  DRESS in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

In Dundonian, pie is sporadically DRESS. start head, bread merges with BEAT breath, death merges with MATEHAME

air merges with DRESS in some urban areas. TRAP + /r/ merges with DRESS head, dead merge with BEAT death, breath merge with MATE-HAME

The DRESS vowel has essentially the same distribution in East Central Scots as in Scottish Standard English. Start has merged with this set, however (in marked contrast to cart, which has merged with MATE-­ HAME); heart also generally merges with DRESS. In Dundonian dialect, a number of members of the TRY set, where the vowel is in final position, merge with DRESS. This is particularly the case with pie, where the DRESS pronunciation is both a shibboleth and something of a cliché, recognised as a peculiarly Dundonian feature by outsiders. As already stated, head and bread are to be found in the BEAT set; breath and death in MATE-­HAME. As we have come to expect, some of these patterns are also present for West Central with the proviso that, as noted above, the merger of all air examples with DRESS is ongoing.



phonology 69

TRAP Box 3.41  TRAP in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Both northerly and southerly varieties may merge with CAUGHT. off hand merges with CAUGHT

TRAP Northerly and southerly varieties may merge with CAUGHT. want off TRAP + /r/ merges with DRESS land merges with CAUGHT

With the TRAP set, the possibility of merger with CAUGHT is present for dialects spoken in both the north and south of the East Central region. This merger is complete in all areas for hand, land and a few other words. Off, on the other hand, merges with TRAP everywhere. The same patterns are to be found in West Central varieties. Wet, otherwise in Scots a member of MEET, is a member of TRAP in many West Central varieties, including my own. KIT Box 3.42  KIT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

BUIT generally merges with KIT, except finally and before /r/. wind, spill generally merge with STRUT; in some westerly varieties this is also true for girl and hill. In more southerly varieties, ane ‘one’ has the KIT vowel.

In most varieties, general merger with BUIT, except finally and before /r/. wind, pill, hill, girl merged with STRUT king merged with MEET in some westerly varieties.

As we have already noted, most East Central varieties merge BUIT with KIT, except finally or before /r/. Although KIT has primarily the same distribution in East Central as for Scottish Standard English, wind and pill generally merge with STRUT. Some West Lothian varieties in my experience also have STRUT for girl and hill. This brings these varieties in line with the nearby West Central dialects. These transfers probably bear witness to the extent of centring with KIT throughout Scotland (although the process itself may be different from place to place). The closely related STRUT set receives these transfers. These observations

70

modern scots

are also true for the West Central dialects. Wind, pill, hill and girl are all merged with STRUT. It can be assumed that the West Lothian evidence mentioned above for this pattern is further proof for the spread of innovative West Central features into the East Central area. STRUT Box 3.43  STRUT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

wind, pill. Some westerly varieties: girl, hill dog

wind, pill, hill, girl dog

In both East and West Central dialects the same basic patterns exist for STRUT. Normally all STRUT words found in Scottish Standard English are also STRUT in these varieties of Scots, with the proviso that words like pull and bull, members of the OOT set in Scottish Standard English, are STRUT in these dialects. As we have already noted with KIT, there is a general tendency for the centring of KIT with certain words. In most East Central varieties this involves wind and pill. In West Central dialects and also in some West Lothian varieties hill and girl merge with STRUT. Universally, dog is a member of this set. OOT Box 3.44  OOT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Fronted variants the norm.

Fronted variants the norm; some unrounding in Glasgow area.

Of all the lexical sets mentioned here, OOT is probably the most straightforward to dissect and analyse for both West and East Central varieties. Disregarding the apparently meaningless variation between the diphthongal Scottish Standard English pronunciation and the monophthongal Scots one, something that almost all speakers do almost all the time, the only point that needs to be made is that fronted variants of /u/ are the norm in this area.



phonology 71

GOAT Box 3.45  GOAT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Strong tendency towards merger with COT; distinction maintained more consistently in northerly varieties. Perthshire bowk

Merger with COT regular; some maintenance of distinction in southwesterly varieties. In westerly varieties, howk ‘to dig out’ and, to a lesser extent, roup ‘put up for auction’ may merge with GOAT.

With both East Central and West Central varieties there is a strong tendency for merger between GOAT and COT at the higher position. My own wholly non-­experimental impression is that this may be more prevalent in West Central urban varieties; what is certainly true is that it is a marker of social origins. Moreover, while in the rest of the English-­speaking world pronouncing scone with a variant of /sko(:)n/ is incorrect, in these areas it is actually the correct reflex for earlier COT. More northerly varieties of both dialect groups retain the distinction between these sets rather more than elsewhere. In westerly varieties of West Central howk ‘to dig up’ and, to a lesser extent, roup ‘put up for auction’, OWER elsewhere, may merge with GOAT. CAUGHT and COT Box 3.46  CAUGHT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Merger with COT common. Some northern and southern varieties may merge with TRAP. hand, half, old

Generally merged with COT. Some northerly and southerly varieties may merge with TRAP. hand, half, old

Box 3.47  COT in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Generally merged with CAUGHT. Merger with GOAT common. off merges with TRAP dog merges with STRUT

Generally merged with CAUGHT. Merger with GOAT common. off merges with TRAP dog merges with STRUT

In both East and West Central dialects, it is normal for CAUGHT and COT to merge, as is the case for Scottish Standard English. This

72

modern scots

merger may not be entirely complete. Some Northern and Southern varieties have a tendency towards merger with TRAP, for instance. The merger with GOAT, moreover, while not entirely confined to COT, is certainly more common with that set than with CAUGHT. Hand, half and old regularly merge with COT; I have never heard these words pronounced with the GOAT vowel. As we have already noted, the COT subset off is transferred to TRAP in all Scots dialect pronunciation in all areas. Dog is transferred to STRUT. In some western West Central varieties (in my experience, in particular in Greenock and other parts of north-­west Renfrewshire) ford is a member of COT, not GOAT. OWER Box 3.48  OWER in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

In Perthshire, bowk may merge with GOAT.

In westerly varieties, howk ‘to dig out’ and, to a lesser extent, roup ‘put up for auction’, may merge with GOAT.

With OWER there is even less to say. As with most other Scots dialects, in East Central dialects this represents a relatively small class associated with a range of changes, including the change of /l/ to /w/ in words like roll. Essentially the same story is present in West Central dialects. As already mentioned, however, howk and to a lesser extent roup may merge with GOAT in some westerly varieties. BITE and TRY Box 3.49  BITE in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Some merger with CHOICE in coastal In Glasgow area, occasional merger of Fife speech. BITE and CHOICE. pay, way, change pay, way, change In south Argyll, dyke occasionally merges with MATE-HAME.

In relation to the BITE class, the usual Central and Southern merger with pay, way and change takes place in East Central dialects. Unusually, however, a degree of merger between CHOICE and BITE, at the latter’s position, exists in some of the coastal regions of Fife; this is the



phonology 73

mirror image of what at least appears to be happening in some of the English dialects of the South-­West of England and parts of Ireland. At a general level the initial observations for East Central BITE pertain for its West Central equivalent. In the Glasgow area, as with the communities in Fife mentioned above, BITE and CHOICE have a tendency towards merger at the local representation of BITE. As already mentioned, dyke occasionally merges with MATE-­HAME in the Scots-­speaking settlements of southern Argyll. Box 3.50  TRY in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Some monophthongal pronunciations in more northerly varieties. In Dundee, pie merges with DRESS.

Generally distribution as in Scottish Standard English.

In East and West Central, TRY is regularly associated with the sets with which it is realised in Scottish Standard English, with the exception of some monophthongal pronunciations in northerly dialects of East Central, best known, perhaps, in the Dundonian transfer of pie to the DRESS set. CHOICE Box 3.51  CHOICE in East and West Central. East Central

West Central

Higher first element in diphthong common (= GOAT). Some merger with BITE in coastal Fife speech.

Higher first element of first element in diphthong common (= GOAT). In Glasgow area, occasional merger of BITE and CHOICE.

With CHOICE there is little to say for East Central beyond the moves towards merger with BITE in some Fife varieties mentioned above. As we have seen, a similar tendency can be found in some Glaswegian speech. Raised /o/ (rather than /ɔ/) in the first element of the diphthong is commonplace throughout the region; it may be most widely distributed in urban areas. Oil and a number of other words merge with BITE.

74

modern scots

3.3.4  The vowel systems of Southern Scots

BUIT Box 3.52  BUIT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

Generally merger with BIT, except finally and before /r/, where there is merger with MATE-HAME. In south-westerly varieties, merger with OOT common.

Generally merger with BIT, except for finally and before /r/, where there is merger with MATE-HAME.

In the South East dialects, the BUIT class behaves generally in the same way as it does in the Central dialects: except in final position or before /r/, there is a merger with BIT. In these specific contexts, however, there is a merger with MATE-­HAME. The same pattern generally holds in the South West dialects. Throughout the region, as is the case across Scotland, there is a tendency for BUIT to be replaced by (or to vary with) the OOT vowel. It is very likely that this represents a substitution of the Scots vowel pattern by one associated with Scottish Standard English usage. It should be noted, however, that the south-­westerly dialects of the South East dialects – those associated in particular with the upper reaches of the Teviot valley – are especially given to this substitution; to an extent, in fact, that, given the rather conservative (but also strikingly and paradoxically innovative) natures of these dialects, a case might be made for this being a native rather than imported innovation. The South West dialects proper do not evince such a pattern. MEET and BEAT Box 3.53  MEET in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

bee, free, fee, see, tree, three, agree; die, lie, fly; key merge with BITE (‘Restricted Pennine Diphthongisation’)

General merger with BEAT. die, lie, fly king in westerly varieties



phonology 75

Box 3.54  BEAT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

Considerable tendency in some varieties for ‘Restricted Pennine Diphthongisation’ to take place. This involves merger with BITE. head, dead death, breath merge with MATE-HAME

General merger with MEET. Some westerly varieties evince a partial merger with MATE-HAME. head, bread breath, death merge with MATE-HAME

In both dialect areas, there is a general tendency towards merger between MEET and BEAT. In South West dialects, however, more westerly dialects have a tendency towards merger between BEAT and MATE-­HAME. It is probable that this retention has been encouraged by, and is encouraging, the retention of the same merger in many Ulster Scots varieties; it should be borne in mind, however, that this particular merger is a regular feature of more conservative and ‘peripheral’ dialects elsewhere in Scotland. The two explanations are not mutually exclusive, of course. A marked feature of some South East dialects – in particular those associated with rural Roxburghshire and the upper Teviot valley – is the diphthongal pronunciation of many MEET words and, perhaps to a lesser extent, members of BEAT. This may be the case particularly when the vowel is in final position. This involves a merger with TRY: three is often /θrae/. Johnston (1997: 455–6) attributes this phenomenon to Restricted Pennine Diphthongisation; as the name suggests, it is a feature shared with a number of traditional Northern English dialects. It is striking, however, that the central focus in Scotland of the apparent change is in an area with limited connections with England in comparison with other Borders communities; this may be due to the retreat of ‘unusual’ forms into less populated and well-­connected regions in recent times, however. The partial merger between MEET/BEAT and TRY has the knock-­on effect of ensuring that words like die and lie, normally associated with MEET in traditional Scots varieties, are pronounced diphthongally in these regions; naturally this tendency leads to the possibility of a coalescence with Scottish Standard English distributions. Even the most easterly South West varieties do not exhibit this phenomenon; the considerable geographical barriers between South East and South West probably explain this difference, however. In South West dialects, as with most Scots varieties, die and lie are regularly pronounced with the MEET vowel. The same vowel is regularly heard with king in more westerly South West varieties. The subset associated with head and dead

76

modern scots

are, as is normal in Scots, pronounced with the BEAT vowel in both dialects. Death and breath, as elsewhere, are part of the MATE-­HAME class. MATE-­HAME and BAIT Box 3.55  MATE-HAME in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

General merger with BAIT. General merger with BUIT finally and before /r/. death, breath

General merger with BAIT; some westerly varieties maintain a partial split. These varieties sometimes have a partial merger with BEAT. breath, death

Box 3.56  BAIT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

General merger with MATE-HAME; some westerly varieties may maintain a distinction between the two sets with some words. pay, way, change merge with BITE.

BAIT General merger with MATE-HAME; some westerly varieties maintain a partial split. pay, way, change merge with BITE.

In both dialects there is a general merger between the MATE-­HAME and BAIT word-­sets. In more westerly dialects of South West Scots, however, there is a tendency, at least with some words, for MATE-­ HAME and BAIT to remain separate. This pattern is in line with the partial merger of MATE-­HAME and BEAT in those areas. The death and breath subset merge with MATE-­HAME in these varieties; pay, way and change merge with BITE. Twaw ‘two’ is regularly part of the MATE-­HAME set. BUIT generally merges with MATE-­HAME in words where the former is realised in final position or before /r/. DRESS Box 3.57  DRESS in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

start In Galloway, /ɛr/ may merge with / head, dead merge with BEAT er/ death, breath merge with MATE-HAME start head, bread merge with BEAT breath, death merge with MATE-HAME



phonology 77

In South East dialects start is found, as in the case with most Central dialects, with the DRESS vowel. While this is true for many eastern South West dialects, the western half of the area – Galloway – does exhibit a tendency towards start and other words merging with MATE-­ HAME at /er/. This is the mirror image of changes reported for varieties spoken in the Clydeside conurbation. It would be tempting to suggest (although it could never be proved) that both represent the products of interaction between (Northern) Irish English and Scots vowel patterns. TRAP Box 3.58  TRAP in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

off want land merges with CAUGHT start merges with DRESS

Some merger with CAUGHT. off, want land merges with CAUGHT start merges with DRESS

In relation to the TRAP set, both dialect regions behave practically identically to the Central varieties. Off and want are found with this class, while land becomes a member of the CAUGHT set. Start generally merges with DRESS, with the proviso mentioned above that there is a tendency in Galloway for start and its equivalents to merge with MATE-­HAME. KIT Box 3.59  KIT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

Generally merger with BUIT, except finally and before /r/. Tendency for KIT to be central or fronted.

General tendency for KIT to be central or front. Generally merger with BUIT, except finally and before /r/. wind, pill merge with STRUT king merges with MEET in westerly dialects

As is the case elsewhere in Scotland, KIT behaves in essentially the same manner in Scots as it does in Scottish Standard English. In both South East and South West dialects there is a general merger between BUIT and KIT, except finally or before /r/. Ane ‘one’ is generally

78

modern scots

/jɪn/ in both dialects; wind and pill merge with STRUT. As has already been stated, there is a tendency for king to merge with MEET in westerly South West varieties. Many South East varieties have a central or fronted pronunciation for KIT, unlike most Central and Southern varieties. From personal experience, this can result in a person with this pronunciation momentarily sounding like a speaker of some Northern Scots or Highland English varieties. STRUT Box 3.60  STRUT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

wind, pill wind, pill dog dog STRUT before /x/ in, for example, rough can produce merger with OWER. Tendency for KIT to be central or fronted.

The STRUT set essentially encompasses the same group of words in Scots and in Scottish Standard English. The same is to a large extent true for those occasions where Scottish local varieties diverge from Scottish Standard English, although what subsets are affected differs somewhat between varieties. In the Southern dialects, wind and pill transfer in traditional dialects from KIT to STRUT; dog transfers from COT to STRUT. Johnston (1997: 478) comments that, in some South East varieties, STRUT before /x/ can be pronounced with a diphthongal pronunciation which brings it within the bounds of OWER. Thus the equivalent of rough can be pronounced /rəux/. This diphthongisation may be related to similar phenomena found with OOT in the same region. The pronunciation /rox/ found for this word in other dialects does not seem to be in line with this set of connections and ­interpretations, however.



phonology 79

OOT Box 3.61  OOT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

Fronted variants spreading; diphthongal pronunciations (and mergers with OWER) still regularly heard; these will be supported by Scottish Standard English norms.

Fronted variants the norm in Galloway; unrounding common. Fronting spreading into Dumfriesshire.

In a similar manner to other forms of Scots, OOT in Southern dialects represents, for most speakers, a monophthongal pronunciation. In South East dialects the previously central or back pronunciations are gradually being replaced by more front equivalents. This is line with earlier changes in the dialects of the Central Belt. Given the processes of change in south-­eastern Scotland, it would be unsurprising if this change had spread in the first instance along the coast before moving up the valleys of the Tweed, Teviot and other lesser streams. In the South West dialect area, front variants of OOT are at their most commonplace in the Galloway region; the ‘new’ pronunciation is becoming very common in the eastern parts of the area. I have observed, for instance, that practically no one native to Dumfries (essentially the only major urban centre in the region), no matter his or her age, has anything other than a fronted variant in their repertoire. There may also be some unrounding of this vowel in this region (a pronunciation which also occurs elsewhere in Scotland; in particular, perhaps, in the Glasgow area). As with MEET and BEAT, however, speakers from the western, particular the south-­western, parts of the South East dialect area occasionally evince diphthongal pronunciations for some OOT words. I have heard middle-­aged natives of Roxburghshire, for instance, pronounce you as /jəu/ (a pronunciation which, to many other Scots speakers, would represent the word for ‘sheep’, cognate to English ewe). It can be argued, therefore, that, at least for some OOT words, a merger with OWER has taken place in these varieties. By the same token, however, OWER pronunciations are to be found with this set across the whole of the Southern dialect region due to the spread of Scottish Standard English pronunciations.

80

modern scots

GOAT Box 3.62  GOAT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

Merger with COT common.

Some merger with COT; distinction maintained in westerly districts. In some westerly varieties, howk ‘to dig out’ (and to a lesser extent roup) may merge with GOAT).

In South East varieties, some merger between GOAT and COT is common, although there is a degree of variation between /ɔ/ and /o/ between individuals and, indeed, regions. Similar patterns are found in the South West varieties, although the merger is less prevalent in more westerly varieties. This mixed realisation is in line with what is found in Ulster, although this, again, is more likely to be due to the conservative nature of peripheral dialects of this type rather than actual contact. As with more westerly varieties of West Central Scots, western South West varieties often pronounce words like howk ‘to dig out, extract’, and to a lesser extent roup ‘to auction’, with /o/, implying merger with GOAT. CAUGHT and COT Box 3.63  CAUGHT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

Generally merger with COT. land, half, old

Generally merger with COT. Some merger with TRAP. land half old (some merger with OWER)

Box 3.64  COT in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

Generally merger with CAUGHT. Merger with GOAT common. off merges with TRAP dog merges with STRUT

Generally merger with CAUGHT. Some merger with GOAT; distinction maintained in westerly districts. off merges with TRAP dog merges with STRUT

In practically all Southern varieties, CAUGHT and COT are merged. As we have already seen, merger of these two sets with GOAT is



phonology 81

also prevalent, although the distinction is still maintained in the most south-­westerly dialects. In both Southern dialect areas land and half are part of the COT group. This is also the case for old in most of the area, although merger with OWER in some South West varieties is also possible. This is strikingly similar to the distribution in some Ulster Scots and Irish English varieties, although diphthongal pronunciations for this word are also found in some Northern English varieties and in the dialects of Caithness and the Northern Isles. Throughout the South, as in many parts of Scotland, off merges with TRAP and dog with STRUT. OWER Box 3.65  OWER in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

STRUT before /x/ in, for example, OWER rough can produce merger with OWER. old is occasionally merged with OWER. In some westerly varieties, howk ‘to dig out’ (and to a lesser extent roup) may merge with GOAT).

The OWER set includes most of the words associated with it elsewhere in Scotland south, at least, of the Northern dialects. In South East varieties, STRUT members may transfer to OWER before /x/; in westerly parts of the same area, OOT words are often treated – at a lexical level – as part of OWER. This tendency is often realised with common words like rough and tough. As already noted it is not uncommon to hear old with the OWER diphthong in the South West dialects. In some westerly dialects of the South West, howk ‘to dig out’ (and to a lesser extent roup ‘put up for auction’) may merge with GOAT, however BITE, TRY and CHOICE Box 3.66  BITE in South East and South West dialects. South East

South West

bee, free, fee, see, tree, three, agree; die, lie, fly; key Considerable tendency in some varieties for ‘Restricted Pennine Diphthongisation’ to take place with BEAT. This involves merger with BITE.

Occasional merger of dyke with MATEHAME in Galloway. pay, way, change

82

modern scots

The South West dialects generally differ little from the mainstream Central dialects in relation to the distribution of BITE and TRY words. One exception to this is that, in Galloway, dyke sometimes merges with MATE-­HAME. The situation is rather more complex with South East varieties, however. As we have already seen, the effects of ‘Restricted Pennine Diphthongisation’ have meant that, particularly in rural districts in the west (and historically more generally), many MEET and BEAT words have been transferred to TRY. Otherwise, TRY is mainstream in this dialect area, however. In all traditional Southern dialects, pay, way and change are members of BITE. All Southern dialects are mainstream in their distribution of the CHOICE set. It is striking that, unlike some West Central dialects, the varieties spoken in the westerly parts of the South West area, where we would expect Irish influence do not (partially) merge the CHOICE and BITE sets. 3.3.5  The vowel systems of Ulster Scots

Given their historical and ongoing connections, it is unsurprising that the Ulster Scots dialects share many patterns with the Western dialects of the Scots of Scotland; in particular, the westerly forms of West Central Scots have essentially a common origin with the Scots dialects of Ireland. This can be readily seen in the present distribution of Scots lexical sets in both territories. As has already been noted, however, although Scots pronunciation patterns have spread well beyond the Scots-­speaking parts of Ireland, the variety of Standard English with which Ulster Scots speakers come into contact through education, the media and external communication is far less ‘Scots’ than is Scottish Standard English (for a discussion of these issues, see Corrigan 2010). This is likely to have some effect on the survival of specifically local patterns. BUIT Box 3.67  BUIT in Ulster Scots. Ulster Generally merger with BIT, except for finally and before /r/, where there is merger with MATE-HAME.

With BUIT, Ulster Scots generally follows the Central and Southern distribution of /ɪ/ on all occasions except before /r/ or finally, where /e/ is generally realised. Like all Scots varieties, however, OOT forms



phonology 83

are regularly found with historically BUIT words; we have to assume, I think, that this apparent change is largely due to influence from the local forms of Standard English. Purely from experience, however, this ‘infiltration’ appears more advanced in Ulster than elsewhere in the Scots-­speaking world. MEET and BEAT Box 3.68  MEET in Ulster Scots. Ulster Some merger with BEAT. die, lie, fly king swim Box 3.69  BEAT in Ulster Scots. Ulster Some merger with MEET. Some merger with MATE-HAME. head, bread air merges with DRESS breath, death merge with MATE-HAME

Like many Irish English varieties, the merger between MEET and BEAT in Ulster Scots is rarely total. Many lexical items from the BEAT set are, in fact, merged with MATE-­HAME. It is likely that the assumption of an Irish English origin for the pattern is secure, although other ‘marginal’ varieties of Scots in the North-­East of Scotland and the Northern Isles realise similar patterns. As well as containing most of the English words, MEET generally contains die, lie and fly. Also often merged with MEET are swim and king. This last feature is also common in some West Central dialects. BEAT contains most of the words, including head and bread. Breath and death are merged with MATE-­HAME, however, even when that set is distinct from BEAT.

84

modern scots

MATE-­HAME and BAIT Box 3.70  MATE-HAME in Ulster Scots. Ulster General merger with BAIT; some varieties retain a partial split. Merger with BUIT before /r/ and word finally. Some merger with BEAT. Box 3.71  BAIT in Ulster Scots. Ulster General merger with MATE-HAME; some varieties retain a partial split. pay, way and change merge with BITE

The MATE-­HAME set, while generally undergoing the same merger with BAIT as is found in Standard English, also occasionally exhibits discrepancies. In some varieties of Ulster Scots, the merger with BAIT is at best partial, while, conversely, at least a partial merger with BEAT is commonplace. Some members of the BAIT set in Standard English, such as pay, way and change merge with BITE, a pattern entirely in line with that of the Central and Southern dialects of Scots. Air, however, merges with DRESS, a change shared with a number of West Central Scots dialects. Diphthongal pronunciations for MATE-­HAME are commonplace, in line with most English varieties worldwide, but in sharp contrast to the essentially monophthongal pronunciations found in Scotland. DRESS Box 3.72  DRESS in Ulster Scots. Ulster air Stressed -er is often /ər/

In Ulster the pronunciation of the vowels associated with both DRESS and in particular TRAP are highly variable, even within the same territory. TRAP can often have a highly fronted and raised nature (coming close to [ɛ] or even [e]) are common; backed pronunciations along the lines of [ɑ] are also regularly heard, however. Both front and back pronunciations are reproduced by outsiders, without any sense of incompatability, in stereotyped versions of the dialect. DRESS has essentially the same distribution in Ulster Scots that it does in Standard English. As



phonology 85

has already been noted, however, air and other -­air words, such as fair, merge with DRESS, as does start. TRAP Box 3.73  TRAP in Ulster Scots. Ulster Some merger with CAUGHT (in particular in Antrim). want hand merges with CAUGHT start merges with DRESS

Ulster Scots TRAP exhibits many of the same tendencies as in Scotland Scots varieties, although it is interesting to note that these patterns are rarely to be found in any one dialect grouping on the ‘mainland’ in the distribution found in Ulster dialects. There is some merger of TRAP and CAUGHT, in particular in the Scots dialects of Co. Antrim. Want, and other words, form part of TRAP. Conversely, hand merges with CAUGHT and start with DRESS. KIT and STRUT Box 3.74  KIT in Ulster Scots. Ulster king, swim merge with MEET wind, pill merge with STRUT Generally merger with BUIT, except before /r/ and word finally. Box 3.75  STRUT in Ulster Scots. Ulster Rounded variants occur. wind, pill

As with many Scots dialects in Scotland, there is considerable variation in the place of articulation of the KIT vowel, with some varieties – and individuals – having fairly front and raised pronunciations of /ɪ/, while others exhibit pronunciations close to, but generally distinguishable from, /ʌ/. From my own observation, the latter pronunciation appears to be more widespread in Antrim and Down than it is further west. As with many other varieties of Scots, king and swim merge with MEET, while wind and pill merge with STRUT. STRUT exhibits essentially

86

modern scots

the same distribution as in Standard English, with the caveat just mentioned about some members of KIT. Some varieties of Ulster Scots exhibit a partly or fully rounded pronunciation for members of this set, in line with some other varieties of Scots (although not those in close proximity to Ulster); similar pronunciations can be found in other varieties of Irish English, however. OOT Box 3.76  OOT in Ulster Scots. Ulster BUIT is increasingly merged with OOT.

The OOT set has essentially the same distribution as in Scotland. As in Scotland, many BUIT words are transferring even in dense dialect to this set, probably due to influence from Standard English patterns. It might tentatively be suggested that this is happening more in Ulster than is the case on the other side of the North Channel. GOAT Box 3.77  GOAT in Ulster Scots. Ulster Some merger with COT.

Ulster Scots GOAT displays a generally mainstream distribution. Some merger with COT is found. CAUGHT and COT Box 3.78  CAUGHT in Ulster Scots. Ulster Some merger with COT. old: some merger with OWER Box 3.79  COT in Ulster Scots. Ulster Generally merger with CAUGHT. Some merger with GOAT.



phonology 87

The CAUGHT and COT sets are, as we might expect, generally merged. Half words are part of CAUGHT. As in Scotland Scots, many speakers treat old as part of CAUGHT, although many others treat this subset as having merged with OWER. Many speakers, as is the case with many people in central and southern Scotland, merge GOAT with COT. OWER Box 3.80  OWER in Ulster Scots. Ulster old: some merger with OWER

OWER has essentially the same distribution as in other varieties of Scots, with the exception already noted that old often forms part of this group. Although a small number of Central and Southern dialect speakers exhibit this merger (and it is also commonplace in the far north of Scotland and the Northern Isles), the application of Occam’s razor would suggest that the association of old with OWER is a transfer from Irish English to Ulster Scots; it might even be the case that the OWER pronunciations in South and Central Scots are a transfer from Ireland rather than vice versa, given the close ties, including considerable population exchange, between the two regions. BITE, TRY and CHOICE Box 3.81  BITE in Ulster Scots. Ulster pay, way and change Box 3.82  TRY and CHOICE in Ulster Scots. Ulster Essentially the same distribution as local varieties of English.

With the other diphthongs – BITE, TRY and CHOICE – there is very little to say, since their distribution is essentially the same as that found in Central and Southern Scotland Scots dialects and (at least Scottish) Standard English. As with many other varieties, BITE includes pay, way and change.

88

modern scots

3.3.6  Scots vowels: a final thought

As a final thought, it could be claimed that, while there are, of course, many phonological features confined to only one region, the considerable complexity and diversity discussed masks a similarity in patterns across the Scots-­speaking world. Scots, in other words, holds together as a linguistic whole. We will discuss this issue further towards the end of this chapter. Interestingly, however, the patterns found for Central Scots may not be as crucial and central to this similarity as popular analysis would have it. 3.4  Consonantal systems

In many senses describing the consonantal phonology of Scots is a far more straightforward task than is the case with its vowel equivalent. On most occasions the same observations can be made across the Scots-­ speaking world, although there are occasions where definite regionalisms are present. Change – or at least quite extreme variation – is present across the region, however. It therefore makes sense to construct an analytical distinction between the consonant phonologies of the traditional dialects and the equivalent in urbanised environments, even when these distinctions are not always straightforward or clear-­cut. 3.4.1  Consonant use in the traditional Scots dialects

In comparison to English, Scots is deeply conservative. It maintains /r/ in all positions (although see below) and /ʍ/ in all historical words (unless local developments have led to a change in assignment). While Old English /wl/ has not been retained in any dialects, some Northern dialects have retained as /vr/ in words like vratch ‘wretch’ and vricht ‘carpenter; i.e., wright’. Initial /kn/ was common until relatively recently (into living memory with a few words in my own fairly traditional West Central variety) and is still present in pockets (in Shetland, for instance, knappin, speaking to other Shetlanders in a markedly standard or non-­Shetland way (for a discussion, see Karam 2017), is universally pronounced /kn/). Most striking as a shibboleth is the survival of the voiceless velar fricative /x/ in its velar and palatal allophones. In traditional varieties this consonant is found not only with place names (largely, but not solely, of Celtic origin), such as Clochmabenstane (in Dumfriesshire: /klɔx/), Auchnagatt (in Aberdeenshire; /ax/) or The Broch (Fraserburgh, Aberdeenshire; /brɔx/), but also in historical position for the Germanic



phonology 89

languages, as with brocht ‘brought’ or laich ‘low lying land’. There is a small amount of variation in the use of /x/ in traditional dialects. In the North-­East /x/ + /t/ regularly becomes /θ/, so that daughter’s cognate is dother and might can be mith. With one word – droucht ‘thirst, drought’ – the /θ/ form, drouth, is actually more common throughout Scotland (he his a hell o a drouth on him ‘he really likes a drink/may have a drink problem’) and is canonised by Burns in Tam o’ Shanter (‘When chapman-­billies lea the street/ And drouthy neebors neebors meet’). In Shetland in particular, /x/ may be lost before /t/ in the equivalents to brought and thought. As we saw above, the vowels involved often shift to OWER; this can make Shetlanders sound briefly like speakers of traditional Yorkshire dialect. Although nocht ‘nought; nothing’ is commonplace throughout Scotland and Ulster, nowt is regularly heard in the former territory at least. Some speakers consider this an importation from Northern England; if it is, it has a considerable history in Scotland, however. As stated in Chapter 1, some traditional South West dialects have lost /x/ in words such as nicht, with /nit/ being occasionally realised. This probably represents spread from Northern English traditional dialects. In line with the dialects of English spoken north of the Tyne, Scots speakers overwhelmingly pronounce /h/ in ‘historical’ position. In line with this distribution, unstressed pronunciations may not include /h/, so that, in A gied it til him ‘I gave it to him’, him may be pronounced /ʌm/ or /əm/. On the other hand, it may be pronounced with initial /h/. This is most commonly heard, perhaps, in the Northern Isles, but is present throughout the Scots-­speaking territories. Whether this is a survival of Old English hit ‘it’ is impossible to say; interestingly, however, hiz ‘us’ can be heard regularly in South Northern and northerly East Central speech: this form has no such historical background. In Black Isle speech, however, /h/ was regularly ‘dropped’, at least by the fishing population of Cromarty; some ‘h-­dropping’ is also occasionally heard in the traditional speech of the coastal communities of the westernmost Mid Northern areas. Interestingly, the words were represented on the Black Isle by nothing, so that the equivalent of what was /at/. This is not in line with the other Northern dialects, where is /f/, possibly under Gaelic influence (although ‘abnormal’ regional realisations do occur without external stimulus). Historically, all words descended from Old English (and some which are not, such as whisky) have /f/ in Caithness and the North-­East; in the South Northern area, however, only relative and interrogative pronouns are realised with /f/, while words like white have /ʍ/, in line with Central usage. This differentiated distribution is now very commonplace in other Northern dialects, however, except with words

90

modern scots

like futtret ‘ferret’, where many speakers may not be aware that the word is not a variant of the Standard English equivalent but rather is the equivalent of Central Scots whitrat or whitterick. In Orkney and southern Shetland /ʍ/ is commonly realised for , while northern Shetland has /kw/. Throughout the Insular region, however, there is merger between and words, with the merged pronunciation following the geographical patterns given here. In Orkney, for instance, many speakers would consider queen and wheen ‘a great many’ as homophones, with /ʍ/ as the initial consonant. A highly marked feature of all Scots dialects is the historical ‘loss’ of /l/ following what was probably originally a low back vowel along the lines of /ɑ/, where the consonant was syllable final. Thus the equivalent of fall is faw. The nature of the vowel now varies geographically from /ɔ/ to /a/. In general only back allophones of /l/ are present when the historical form is still realised; this is true almost at an exaggerated degree along the boundary with the historical and contemporary Gaelic-­speaking parts of the area. ‘Clear’ front varieties are present, however, particularly in some of the island communities. An analogous (although much less phonologically constrained) vocalisation is ongoing in many Scots varieties, so that milk is often /mɪwk/ or similar. Not all speakers realise full vocalisation, however. Hypercorrect /l/ loss is also possible, so that the toponym or family name Caldwell is often pronounced without /l/, apparently following the model of cawed ‘called’. I have never heard cauld ‘cold’ being pronounced without /l/ by a native speaker, however. This may be due to the fact that in most, but not all, dialects there is a tendency for final /d/ loss. /l/ loss under those circumstances would make cauld ‘cold’ and caw ‘call’ homophones. In all traditional varieties /r/ is maintained in all positions. The actual pronunciation varies, however; this is often a matter of personal rather than group usage. Approximant pronunciations of /r/, as found in Irish and American English, are present throughout Scotland, with some speakers using them more than others. Beyond (upper-­) middle-­class circles, my experience is that it is particularly common in rural areas close to the Highland Line. It is the norm in Caithness. Approximant pronunciations are the norm in all Irish varieties of Scots, a trait shared with Irish English. Tap /r/ ([ɾ]) is a shibboleth of Scottish speech, although few Scots speakers employ it as their sole /r/ pronunciation. Uvular pronunciations are also to be heard. In Central and Southern dialects this pronunciation can be interpreted as a kind of ‘speech impediment’; there are Northern varieties, however, such as those spoken around Brechin (in the South Northern area) and Inverurie (in the Mid Northern), where uvular pronunciations are prevalent and may



phonology 91

even be the norm in certain social groups. Interestingly, the pronunciation appears to be a recessive usage associated primarily with older rural speakers in the Inverurie area while in the region around Brechin it appears to be spreading in the speech of the young. Palatalisation phenomena are present in pockets throughout the Scots-­speaking world. In Ulster, for instance, car can be /kjar/ (although this may be more common in the Ulster English areas). Similar, although not identical, phenomena can be found in Mid Northern varieties; particularly along the coast. As we have seen, bake is often /bjak/ and poke ‘bag’ /pjok/. This may, however, be part of a larger series of vowel changes, as outlined above. On Whalsay in Shetland /k/ before /e/ is palatalised, as found in cake. Local people often describe the sound produced as /tʃ/, although [ç], a palatal fricative, is probably closer to the phonetic reality. In Caithness, words such as cheese regularly have /ʃ/ as initial consonant. This may be an example of the influence of Gaelic upon the dialect (since historically Gaelic does not have /tʃ/). Throughout the Northern dialects (and in particular in Caithness) and in the Insular dialects, initial /dʒ/ regularly becomes /tʃ/, so that, in Shetland, the local form of just is /tʃyst/; while a pet form of George is /ˈtʃɔrdi/. Again this change may be due to Gaelic influence, although it is difficult to reconcile this with the comments about Caithness /tʃ/ and /ʃ/ above (never mind the fact that Shetland dialect in particular can have had had limited and transitory influence from Gaelic speakers). In the North-­East /v/ is often present in those situations, such as snow, where Scots (and often English) appear to have had /w/ finally in relatively recent times. Thus Central Scots maw ‘seagull’ is myaave in Mid Northern. This may be a recessive feature. Although snyaave ‘snow’ can still be heard, /sna/, based perhaps on Central Scots models, but with Northern pronunciation, is probably more common. The phenomenon is never found with the products of /l/ loss (such as smaw ‘small’) discussed above. It may have some connection to the /w/ > /v/ changes found preceding /r/ in words like vryte ‘write’. In general most traditional Scots varieties follow the normal patterns of usage across English for /θ/ and /ð/. There is one striking ­exception, however. In the traditional dialects of Shetland, these consonants are found only in final position. In initial and medial position /t/ and /d/ are used respectively in place of these consonants: ting ‘thing’ and widder ‘weather’. This pattern is likely to be due to the influence of the Norn dialects previously spoken on the archipelago, although the connection is not as straightforward as first appears to be the case (for further discussion, see Millar 2007, 2016a: chapter 3). This change

92

modern scots

seems to have been the norm historically in Orkney, but is now only found in place names. In the North-­East, /d/ rather than /ð/ is found in words equivalent to Scottish Standard English father, mother, brother and weather (thus ‘father’, which is generally /ˈfeðər/ in most Scots dialects, is /ˈfadər/ in traditional Mid Northern dialects, in particular on the Buchan Plateau, in my experience). When using both Scots and Scottish Standard English, the initial consonant of though, normally /ð/ in most varieties of English, is /θ/ among speakers from the east coast. This use of the voiceless rather than voiced consonant is practically universal for Scottish speakers with the word with. In many traditional varieties – most markedly, perhaps, in Northern – there is a tendency for /ð/ not to be pronounced with the, this, that and there. Thus this is often /ɪs/. This phenomenon is probably most prevalent in unstressed contexts but can regularly be heard in stressed. Metathesis, the mutual transfer of consonants within a word, is occasionally found. In the North-­East, for instance, girse ‘grass’ and wardle (otherwise warld in Scots; English world) are regularly heard among traditional speakers. 3.4.2  Consonant use in non-­traditional Scots dialects

Most Scots speakers do not, of course, use dialects which are markedly traditional. Instead, most speak varieties which are, or demonstrate, strong affinities towards urban varieties. Perhaps most striking, at least initially, is that /x/ is not generally used in its historical positions in words such as nicht ‘night’, where a localised pronunciation of the English equivalent is favoured. Occasionally older pronunciations survive in highly specific contexts. Fecht ‘fight’, for instance, may crop up in the phrase it’s a sair fecht ‘it’s a hard life’, often used when speaking to a toddler who is at least giving the impression of struggling with a relatively straightforward (for adults) task or who is grumpy or overtired. For many speakers /x/ is also used in words which have no immediate English equivalent, such as dreich ‘drab; dreary; endlessly repeated, dull’ (/drix/) and sheuch ‘ditch; (jocularly) any body of salt water’ (/ʃʌx/). It would also be pronounced in the many /x/ place names found in Scotland and Ireland. Some people (I am one of them, under the influence of my parents) use /x/ for in Michael and technical. This may be a ‘learned’ usage or even an affectation, depending on your viewpoint. Many Scots speakers – in particular in the Glasgow area – pronounce all of these residual /x/ words with /k/, however, so that hoch ‘thigh; the meat and fat rendered from that part of the body’ is regularly /hok/ rather than /hox/. This change may originally be of



phonology 93

Irish origin; it is certainly spreading throughout the Central Belt and beyond. It is my experience that most customer service people who now make announcements on the train line south from Aberdeen to Edinburgh announce that we are approaching /ˈlukərz/, Leuchars, the first major stop to the south of Dundee, rather than /ˈluxərz/, as I would naturally pronounce it. While most Scots speakers continue to pronounce with /ʍ/, a /w/ pronunciation is becoming widespread, particularly among younger people from the Central Belt (although this pronunciation is also used by my daughter who is growing up in the South Northern dialect area). While it might be tempting to see this as being an importation of English norms (and this could be supported by its apparent prevalence in the speech of middle-­class women and girls), my own experience of it is particularly associated in Glasgow with working-­ class speech. On Scots language online discussion of whatever sort, I regularly see dense urban Scots where spellings such as (for Scots whit ‘what’) are common. This preponderance is unlikely to be (at least directly) connected to English norms. /ʍ/ remains the norm in Ulster, with /w/ pronunciations being associated (rarely positively) with the nearby, Ulster English-­speaking, city of Belfast. /f/ forms for remain common in toonser spik (otherwise known as A(i)berdeen), even in the speech of youths who may not otherwise use many local lexical or phonological features. It appears to be a shibboleth of local identity. In all Central Belt urban varieties at least it is rare – if not unknown – for the Scots equivalent of who – whaw or whae – to be used. Instead, local pronunciations of the English forms are the norm. While /θ/ and /ð/ remain the norm for words across Scotland, TH-­fronting, the use of /f/ in place of /θ/, is becoming widespread in working-­class urban varieties in particular. This change appears to have spread originally from the Glasgow area; some commentators have traced its origin to the influence of the urban speech of the South-­East of England, both through immediate contact and also through the influence of popular dramas set in that area (the media pounced on this change, branding the result ‘Jockney’ (see, for instance, Stuart-­Smith and Timmins 2014)). It is worth noting, however, that TH-­fronting is not as recent a feature of urban West Central speech as we might expect, with some evidence dating back as far as the 1950s (see Lawson 2014a). It is striking that the Glasgow area seems particularly given to variation away from TH and that these variations go back considerably further than for the substitution of /f/. Many words which begin with /θ/ in mainstream Scots are pronounced with /h/; this means that hing ‘hang; specifically out of a tenement window to have a conversation’

94

modern scots

and thing are homophones for many. /r/ can also be found initially for , particularly in rapid speech, as can /s/ or /z/ when following /s/. Aberrations from the norm are also visible in medial position. Brother (Scots brither) is regularly /brɛr/ in the speech of members of the working class in urban West Central Scotland. Rhoticity is, in theory at least, a powerful Scottish shibboleth in comparison to the speech of most of England. From at least the 1970s on, however, evidence has accumulated that full rhoticity is on the wane in Scotland (although less so in Ulster, perhaps). Again, the spread appears to originate in (West) Central dialects; in these communities, r-­fullness may now be at best patchy with some members of these communities. It is likely that some – perhaps all – Scots dialects will eventually become nonrhotic. At the same time, however, rhoticity is becoming increasingly prevalent with even upper-­middle-­class Scots (see, for instance, Schützler 2015). The two developments may represent reactions to each other rather than separate phenomena. It is interesting to note, however, that the working-­class origins of these changes make at least a straightforward transfer of English prestige norms as the source of the change more than a little unlikely (for a discussion, see Lawson, Scobbie and Stuart-­Smith 2014). Perhaps the most demonised change in Scots over the last 100 years (at least by schoolteachers and other middle-­class guardians of linguistic – and other – proprieties) has been the spread of the glottal stop ([ʔ]), replacing in certain contexts /t/ and, to a lesser extent, /p/ and /k/. Often seen in the English-­speaking world as ‘slovenliness’ on the part of speakers, this is a common change found, for instance, in languages such as Danish or Farsi, where its use is prestigious. It is common to see the spread of full glottalisation (rather than of the production of partly glottalised stops with some of the ‘character’ of, say, /t/) as emanating from the Glasgow area (and thus replicating the spreads observed in England and elsewhere). Glottalisation is particularly prevalent in the rural North-­East, however (indeed rather more common there than in Aberdeen and its environs). This may suggest that, no matter what Marshall (2004) claims, the local development of fully glottal pronunciations represents a separate development, ­coalescing with, but not of the same origin as, the urban spread happening at the same time. 3.4.3  Overview and analysis

It could be argued, therefore, that the Scots consonantal systems appear to be a microcosm of the present state and nature of the language. Both



phonology 95

considerable retentive conservatism and radical change are present, the distinctions between the two being essentially cultural and social, with the ‘modern’ usages being both frowned upon but nonetheless ­spreading, a near-­classical example of covert prestige. 3.5 Conclusion

Of all the chapters in this book, this is the most detailed. As a writer and teacher, this has been a daunting task; I suspect that this is also the case for a reader and a student. It would be very tempting to simplify: to present the gist while downplaying the differences found within dialect areas. This would sell the phonology of Scots short, however. In a sense this phonology is defined in terms of multiple overlapping patterns; it could be compared to a Russian doll or a mise-­en-­scène. These are useful metaphors in at least two ways. In the first instance, there are repeated tendencies in terms of the realisation of vowel patterns across the region. Thus the Central, Ulster and Southern realisation of BUIT – /ɪ/, except in word final position and before /r/ – is also realised on Stronsay in Orkney. While this example is particularly striking, similar features are present repeatedly. Some of these may be due to contact or dispersal patterns. Many are more likely to represent how the ‘genetic material’ of the language is at work across space. At the same time, this analysis has demonstrated the extent to which the edges between the dialects are blurred. If we had considered the system in a systematically simplified manner there would have been considerable danger that we would have missed these reminders that, across most of the regions where Scots is spoken, the lines we present on the map are often mnemonic devices which partly obscure the dialect continuum underlying the distinctions. Another feature which needs to be recognised is the interaction between the Scots and Scottish Standard English (or Northern Irish equivalent) phonologies ongoing in these regions. Inevitably these interactions are intense: Scots and English are, of course, close relatives. While their phonological patterns are different, they are nothing like as different from each other as, say, those of English and French (or even English and German). Crossover from one system to another is inevitable, particularly given the hegemonic force – as the language of literacy, education and the state – Standard English possesses in comparison to an unstandardised vernacular. Moreover, while some of the lexical sets of Scots are highly distinctive for native speakers – BUIT and OOT spring to mind – others are not. Many speakers may not – in fact, do not – keep their English and Scots phonological patterns separate. Instead,

96

modern scots

they may be perceived essentially as variants of the same large-­scale system, or pool, even, from which a speaker chooses. Exercises

1. Adopt a dialect area. Attempt to give a summary of its phonological features for an audience with limited knowledge of either phonetics or phonology. 2. Adopt a lexical set. Map how its distribution and pronunciation differs from Scots dialect to Scots dialect. 3. Large-­scale features: map out how the different lexical sets map out across the vowel quadrilateral in different dialects. 4. Compare in depth the lexical sets of two dialect areas (particularly encouraged are comparisons where the varieties are not spoken in contiguous regions). What can be learned from this type of comparison? Note

1. Johnston’s system also has a few, normally minor, flaws. Perhaps the most striking of these is a peculiar quirk by which Scots word pattern distinctions are more often than not associated with Standard English head words. Thus pronunciations like /hem/ are associated with home. I imagine that this has been done to ensure that all readers understand which sets are being referred to, in particular if they are not fully integrated into the Scots pronunciation patterns. The practice can be very confusing from a Scots language perspective and for native speakers of the language, however. For this reason this book employs a modified version of Johnston’s system, with the proviso that some word-­sets, such as his MATE, have been redesignated as MATE-­HAME to represent the specifically Scots contribution to the set as well as those parts shared with the English equivalent aCe [where C = consonant] type.

4 Lexis

4.1 Introduction

Most Scots lexis is shared with Standard English (and, indeed, other dialects of English). This is, of course, unsurprising: closely related varieties inevitably resemble each other (although rarely, if ever, in a wholly systemic manner). This is an important point to recognise when reading this chapter. Inevitably, we will focus primarily on those occasions where Scots lexical use differs from English; we must always bear in mind, however, that a core of vocabulary shared by both varieties exists. There are also a number of often rather different ways of illustrating and analysing the diversity and patterned reality of Scots lexis not shared with Standard English. Almost inevitably, this chapter will employ an eclectic methodology derived from these sources. In addition, there are fundamental issues involved in analysing the lexis of an unstandardised and partly dialectalised language in comparison with a standardised language associated with a state educational and governmental structure. Usage, for instance, is rarely measured or controlled in the former state. We have little or limited sense of what individuals and groups know and use – and where they are situated, both socially and geographically. With phonology this task is relatively straightforward: even the most complex sound system has a finite number of phonemes; it is also relatively straightforward to establish where different phonological systems – different at a grand or small-­scale level – meet and transition. Although similar tasks are less straightforward in relation to analysing morphological and syntactic use, again, a finite system exists. As anyone who has carried out fieldwork on lexical knowledge and use with any variety will tell you, even common words do not turn up regularly; particularly, perhaps, when you would like to hear them. How, then, do we analyse the lexical use of a language like Scots? The first thing to recognise, perhaps, is that many of the issues we 97

98

modern scots

identified in the preceding paragraph can also be interpreted as advantages. Since there is no one way to speak Scots, what vocabulary is employed depends not on constituted and prescriptive external forces but rather upon individual experience, including those experiences of intimate authority figures and institutions, as well as the reaction to these bearers of authority that all human beings share. Inevitably – in a manner far beyond that found with written standardised varieties – lexical use is personal as well as geographical; personal as well as socially conditioned. What, then, are the best ways to analyse the range of Scots lexis employed in Scotland? To begin this discussion it is important to recognise an important (but sometimes not fully expressed) truth. In the modern era, all – or nearly all – Scots speakers have had the same knowledge of Standard English lexis as speakers of English had, as well as the lexis held in common by the varieties, primarily due to the concentration of the introduction and enforcement of ‘correct’ norms into the educational process. This may even be a deeper process historically for many Scots speakers, given the stress radical forms of Protestantism (and their use of a Bible translated into Standard English) placed on ‘vernacular’ literacy. Speakers of Scots dialects are no more members of a vernacular lexical paradise of noble savagery than is anybody else from a country with mass literacy. Scots speakers have for centuries used both Standard and colloquial English words and expressions in their everyday Scots discourse. With the development of mass means of communication employing the human voice, increasingly present from the beginning of the twentieth century on, these contacts have become increasingly intimate and complex. Often native Scots speakers have not been aware of a dividing line; particularly when analysing colloquial usage of the standard variety, perhaps. Moreover, as Aitken (1979) pointed out, while some Scottish people use Scots words without realising what they are (covert Scotticisms), some Scots vocabulary is employed consciously and for effect by people who do not otherwise use Scots (overt Scotticisms). In this chapter, therefore, we will consider Scots lexis according to a number of separate themes (although these themes are inevitably interlocking and overlapping in a variety of different ways): our discussion will, I hope, recognise the three dimensional nature of the distribution and semantic coverage of Scots lexis. The first is related to the historical origin of the words (and thus, in a sense, etymological). The second is geographical, largely in a traditional dialectological sense (meaning that it is ‘purity’ or ‘genuineness’ which is desired rather than statistical representativeness). The third is semantic – indeed thesaurus-­like in



le xis 99

its construction. The chapter will be completed by a discussion of what appears to be happening with the use of Scots lexis in the present day. 4.2  The sources of Scots vocabulary1

Perhaps the mainstream way to analyse the distribution and present use of lexis in Scots is by discussing the origin of this vocabulary. Strictly speaking, this falls outside the remit of this book, but it is nonetheless of considerable importance in transferring our interest in Scots to a wider public (including the students that a number of the people reading this book teach now or will eventually teach). Many people – perhaps most people – are interested in origins; particularly, perhaps, in a country like Scotland with a long documented history and a complex everyday linguistic reality; while this reality is somewhat different in Ulster, the same complexity is present. The greatest part (not necessarily the majority) of contemporary Scottish vocabulary derives directly from Old English – as is, of course, the case for all varieties of English. There are, however, occasions where Scots has retained Anglo-­Saxon words and phrases which are not found in Standard English (and may not be found in any varieties of English). Perhaps this is best documented with yett ‘gate’. Standard English has borrowed gate from Old Norse; Scots, as well as Northern English dialects, has borrowed Old Norse gata ‘street’ (a Scots proverb has it that ye maun gang your ain gate ‘you must go along your own street, the way you consider best’; one of the main streets in central Aberdeen is the Gallowgate), however. The homophony is likely to have encouraged the retention of the original, ‘native’, yett. While not as prevalent as it once was, yett still turns up in place names such as the Yetts o’ Muckhart in Clackmannanshire; a large weir (artificial waterfall) in my mother’s home village in south-­west Renfrewshire is termed the watteryett. At the same time, however, a considerable amount of Scots vocabulary is of North Germanic origin. Most of this influence – including mainstream words such as kirk ‘church’ and gar ‘make, impel’ are essentially general in Scots; these come from the original Scandinavian infiltration and settlement of the North of England in the early medieval period; generally Scots shares these with the dialects of that region and (to some extent) those of the English East Midlands. In the Northern Isles a rather different pattern is to be found. Many words that are not present in any other dialects of Scots, with the partial exception of the dialects of Caithness, are prevalent there. This is inevitable, given the fact that the residents of both archipelagos retained Norn into the eighteenth century as their primary language. Examples of this type of borrowing

100

modern scots

North Germanic languages

Norn (1400–1800)

Northern Isles dialects Scots

Viking Norse (800–1100)

Caithness dialect Northern Scots

Northern English dialects

English dialects

Standard English

Note:  Full lines imply primary contact; broken lines imply secondary contact. The thicker the line, the more intense the contact was.

Figure 4.1  Levels of Scandinavian influence on Scots and English dialects.

include snug (in Shetland, ‘to strike, push, try to prod with the horns’) or immer ‘the great northern diver’, found in both archipelagos (for further examples, see Millar 2007). One (derived from the Concise Scots Dictionary) which exhibits a wider Northern usage is: rood-­goose &c the brent goose Sh[etland] Ork[ney] Ross. [ON hrotàs; cf Dan radgaas] There are also occasional borrowings later than the Viking period found there or elsewhere. In most of Scotland, for instance, the most common word for ‘dust’ is stoor, derived from Old French. In the North-­East, however, an alternative, stew (as in: ye couldna knock the stew aff a bap ‘you couldn’t knock the dust (i.e., the flour) off a roll’), derived from a medieval Scandinavian variety, is a particularly good example of this type of phenomenon. There is also a fair amount of Low German (historically the language



le xis 101

of northern Germany and of commerce around the Baltic and North Seas) and Dutch – it is often difficult to distinguish between the two languages, particularly in the earlier middle ages – influence on Scots lexis. While some words and phrases are general – such as gowf ‘golf’ – there are many words which are at the very least more common in one place than another. This is particularly the case with the east coast of the country – where contact with what were then Dutch and Low German-­speaking ports and territories was more regular and intense than elsewhere – and Orkney and particularly Shetland, where different and more recent relationships with the North Sea and Baltic littoral can be recognised. A striking example of a borrowing from these sources, cited by the Concise Scots Dictionary, which is not connected to shipping and trade is: runt an ox or cow for fattening and slaughter, a store animal freq a Highland cow or ox; an old cow (past breeding and fattened for slaughter) 17-­now local Cai[thness]-­S[outh]W[est] [prob M[idle]Du[tch] runt, Du[tch] rund, perh w later infl f spec]. There are also occasions where the origin of the word might be either Norse or Dutch/Low German (or both), such as: rouk mist, fog ~ie &c misty, damp, drizzly; muggy now local Cai[thness]-­S[outh] [O[ld]N[orse] *raukr, Sw[edish] dial[ect] ruak vapour, smoke; cf Du[tch] dial[ect] rock, Du[tch] rook smoke; also in n[orthern] Eng[lish] dialect]. Moving beyond the Germanic languages, there is considerable evidence of French influence on Scots lexis. While most of these borrowings are shared with English (and are often a result of the Norman Conquest of England and their later infiltration of Scotland), some are not. Representatives of the latter category include ashett, a large plate, often used for serving, cundie, the drain at the side of roads and, probably, Hogmanay, the Scottish New Year festival. Near where I work in Aberdeen is St Machars Cathedral. The road running up to the cathedral is called The Chanonry, memorialising the canons – the principal priests – who served there before the Protestant Reformation. Canon is borrowed from Anglo-­Norman – the variety of French spoken in England in the aftermath of the Norman Conquest; chanonry represents the Central French equivalent and is only found in Scots. We have to be careful not to make too much of examples of this type, but this ­independence

102

modern scots

Faroese

Gaidhealtachd

Northern Isles dialects

Northern Scots

Glasgow Galloway

Irish

‘Border’ areas

West Central Scots

Scots

South West Scots

Figure 4.2  Levels of Gaelic lexical influence upon the dialects of Scots.

of usage may be linguistic evidence for the ‘Auld Alliance’ between Scotland and France in the late medieval and early modern periods. Most other vocabulary from Romance sources found in Scots is also found in English; one exception to this which springs to mind is stookie, a plaster cast, which derives originally from Italian stucco. It might seem surprising that I have not as yet mentioned Gaelic as an influence on Scots lexis. Surely the other vernacular of Scotland, historically spoken across a large part (although not the whole) of the national territory, should have had considerable effects upon Scots? The reality is considerably more complex than this, however. Gaelic influence on Scots – beyond a few cultural references which are now largely shared with English – tends to differ from dialect to dialect. Those dialects spoken furthest away from the Gaidhealtachd, the Gaelic-­ speaking territory, of the late eighteenth century, such as those of the eastern Borders, tend to have limited borrowings, while those closer or beside this line tend to have more. In my own dialect, for instance, situated at most fifty to sixty kilometres from Gaelic-­speaking territory 100 years ago, one word for a bonfire is taunel, a Gaelic borrowing,



le xis 103

originally related to the traditional bonfires lit at midsummer. These borrowings are particularly prevalent when there has been considerable bilingualism until relatively recent times, such as in Argyll, Perthshire, the North-­East and Caithness (see Ó Baoill’s 1997 discussion of the ‘interface’ between Scots and Gaelic; see Millar 2007: 95–9 for further discussion). In terms of the regional distribution of Gaelic words in Scots, consulting letters R–T of the Concise Scots Dictionary demonstrates that, although relatively few in number, these words show a predictable geographical distribution, largely centred around the boundaries of the historical Gaidhealtachd. Associated with the North-­East are words like: sharg &c n a stunted starved-­looking person; a short bow-­legged man; an impudent man 17-­e20. -­ar &c 1 a puny, weakly person 18-­, now N[orth] E[ast] A[n]g[u]s. 2 the weakest of a brood or litter la19-­, N[orth] E[ast]. – art stunted la19-­, now Ab[er]d[een] [Gael searg a puny creature]. Other regions on the old boundary are also represented, such as: ropach adj untidy, dirty, slatternly 20-­, Highl[and] Per[thshire]. [Gael ròpach squalid, slovenly]. A considerable number of the examples found hail from Caithness, where low population levels and the seasonal movement of population until recently produced a particularly intense kind of contact: trap3 &c n an idle, slovenly person, esp a woman e20, Cai[thness]. ~ach slovenly, slatternly 20-­, Cai[thness]. [Gael[ic] dràb(ach) slattern(ly), Eng[lish] drab]. trosk n a silly, talkative person; a slow-­witted, slovenly person, esp a woman 20-­, Cai[thness]. [Gael[ic] trosg a cod; a silly person, Old N[orse] þorskr a cod]. It is striking that the second example encapsulates the twin cultural and linguistic heritages of the region. All of the examples given (not chosen to demonstrate this point; their subject matters are representative of the whole) appear to have negative and judgemental associations; this is not

104

modern scots

uncommon for words which come from a socially disparaged underlying (substratal) influence. From this small corpus one example of a Gaelic loanword stands out: shig n a small temporary hay-­or cornstack 20-­, now W[i]gt[ownshire]. [Mod[ern]Ir[ish] dial[ect]; Ir[ish]Gael[ic] síog a rick of corn, a swath]. The dialects of western Galloway, as we have noted regularly, demonstrate considerable influence from Irish or Irish English. It is more than likely that this word has an ultimate Irish source. The borrowing may at least have been reinforced by the usage of the Gaelic dialects of that part of Scotland, which only died out in the eighteenth century, however. But our lack of knowledge or records of that variety makes this mere supposition. Beyond this, most borrowed vocabulary is shared with at the very least colloquial English, because of the structure of society and the nature of contact between the varieties in the modern age. Some examples of this include the influence of American English upon urban West Central lexis. Guy ‘male person’, for instance, was commonplace in Glasgow long before it was much used elsewhere in the British Isles; doll ‘attractive young woman’ is still only found there, often used in a vocative construction (the comic television Glaswegian, Rab C. Nesbitt, regularly referred to his long-­suffering wife as ‘Mary Doll’, for instance). The latter example in particular suggests borrowing from 1930s’ and 1940s’ films rather than directly from North Americans (although the latter contact did happen through Atlantic trade and troop movements during and after the Second World War). Romani words, such as gadgie ‘man’ and cane ‘house’, are also found across Scotland (although my impression is that they are most common in the North-­East and the Borders). Some words may have been borrowed directly from Romani speakers; many have come via the cant of the Scottish and Irish traveller people. 4.3  Geography and lexical use

The knowledge and use of Scots vocabulary is not homogenous across the Scots-­speaking world. As with phonology, and to some degree morphology and syntax, what vocabulary items you use is dependent on where you were born. A few months ago my eight-­year-­old daughter said that something she was doing was a bit of a ficher /ˈfɪxər/ ‘something that is difficult to do, a hassle, fiddly’. This pleased me greatly because it was a sign she was picking up local, South Northern, words



le xis 105

at school. Because I speak a West Central dialect, I would not use this word (although years of living in the North-­East mean that I know the word well); I would use fouter in its place (a word that people in Northern dialect areas would also know and use). These differences can be multiplied, naturally: where I say lassie for ‘girl, young woman’, people in the North-­East say quine. I call any fizzy drink ginger when at least older people in the North-­East say, surprisingly, ale. More globally, westerners like me along with Ulster people (including some native speakers of Ulster English) call a child a wean, while people from the rest of Scotland generally use bairn (although little eens ‘little ones’ is common in the North-­East). People from the Northern Isles and to an extent Caithness prefer peedie or peerie for ‘small’, while all other Scots speakers prefer wee (this distinction is to a degree more complex than this, but this is the essential distribution). In this section, therefore, we will consider and analyse the lexical distinctions observable within Scots. This cannot, of course, be exhaustive, although the intention is to be as representative as possible. On all occasions it should be borne in mind that not all native speakers of a given dialect will know all the vocabulary associated with that area; nor is it the case that just because a particular resource states that a word or phrase is confined to a particular place that this means that this is the case: even the most trustworthy resource is at the mercy of its informants and its compilers’ analytical skills. Often, moreover, the resources we do have, with the exception of the national material, may be patchy both in their coverage and their usefulness, a central purpose, as we have seen, being to entertain and amuse (not of itself, of course, a bad thing, but it can encourage distortion). Finally, as we have already noted, all materials analysed here either downplay or ignore those occasions where Scots and Standard English use coincides. 4.3.1  Geographical distribution following the Concise Scots Dictionary

We will begin, therefore, by sketching the geographical distribution for words as given in the Concise Scots Dictionary. It would be near-­ impossible (and probably self-­defeating) to attempt an analysis of all of its resources. With this in mind, and through the kindness and hard work of a number of my students, this section will concentrate on the usage found under R, S and T in that work.

106

modern scots

4.3.1.1 Insular

As has already been mentioned, a particularly disappointing feature of the compilation of the Concise Scots Dictionary is that many (perhaps most) of the unique lexical and semantic features of the Insular dialects found in the Scottish National Dictionary were left out. Indeed the evidence with which we are presented, such as: rander &c 16-­, render vti 3 vi talk idly or nonsensically, ramble, maunder 19-­, now Sh[etland] Cai[thness] Uls[ter]. ranter 5 clarified fat, dripping la19-­, now Ork[ney], A[n]g[u]s. generally involves the use of now, essentially implying that the usage patterns in the regions cited represent relict zones, implying that the meaning or the word used to be found more widely: the distribution is likely arguably to have been much greater. A few entries, such as: rag3 &c; raggle &c la20-­, Abd n a wet mist, drizzle 20-­, Sh[etland] Ork[ney] Ab[er]deenshire. appear to imply an originally limited distribution, although the suspicion exists that such usage is only recorded because of the Aberdeenshire usage. In order to develop a true sense of distribution in the Northern Isles, dedicated local dictionaries need to be consulted, as discussed in section 4.3.2 below. 4.3.1.2 Northern

In the Concise Scots Dictionary, N[orth] refers to all the area of Scotland north of an indeterminate border around Forfar. Naturally, those areas which are Scots-­speaking are the primary focus of this grouping, although some attestations do come from areas not normally associated with Scots, such as Invernesshire. The North-­East forms part of the Northern dialects, but is often distinguished explicitly from the other varieties. In this section, therefore, we will concentrate on those words and meanings which are focused on other parts of the North where connections to the North-­East are tangential or partial. The following refers to usage associated with the letter S of the Concise Scots Dictionary. In relation to the North as a whole, some associations appear entirely straightforward, such as: scoskie &c n the starfish la1 9–20, N[orthern]. or:



le xis 107

scry &c vt proclaim, make known by public proclamation 18–19, N[orthern]. Others, such as: scum &c n 2 a thin coating of ice 20-­, Cai[thness] K[ir]c[ud]b[right]. 3 a worthless disreputable person 18-­ , now local Sh[etland]-­ Ayr. ~ v 3 vt catch with a small round net on a long pole (any herring fallen back into the sea as the nets are hauled aboard) la19-­, N[orth]. ~ scummer &c 2 a ladle or shallow dish for skimming 18-­, now N[orth], E[ast]C[entral]. 3 a young crew member who scums (v 3) la19-­, N[orth]. appear to represent a specialisation – or survival – of a specific meaning in the North. Perhaps unsurprisingly, given the history of the communities, many of these examples are related to the fishing trade, although many are not. Patterns of usage within the Northern area are also possible. Many of these, such as: strypal n anything long and slender; a tall, slender, rather handsome person la19–20, Cai[thness] B[a]nf[f]. and: stap2 vti 4 vi gorge oneself with food 20-­, local Sh[etland]-­Per[th]. ~ stappit haddie a stuffed haddock la19-­, Cai[thness] B[a]n[f]f Ab[er]d[een]. ~ stappit heidies &c stuffed fish heads 19-­, now Cai[thness] B[a]n[f]f Ab[er]d[een]. are associated with an apparent connection between Caithness and the North-­East. Other patterns, while less common, such as: skail1 &c v 1 vt (3) spread (manure, peat1 etc) over the surface of the ground 19-­, now Cai[thness] Per[th] W[est]C[entral], S[outh]W[est]. (4) plough out (a ridge) so that the furrows falls outward on either side of the hintin (hint1) la18-­, now N[orth], C[entral]. 3 burst (a garment) at a seam la18-­, Cai[thness] Ross. and: sleesh &c ~ack &c freq in pl a dish of potatoes fried in slices la20-­, Ross Inv[erness].

108

modern scots

are also possible, however. A further connection of considerable strength runs between the Northern and the Insular varieties. Sometimes this appears to extend to the whole north, as with: shak &c n 2 the shaking of grain from an ear of corn, esp in wind etc; the loss of grain so caused la18-­, now Sh[etland] Ork[ney] N[orth]. ~ shaker &c 2 chf in pl (1) the moving racks in a treshing mill 19-­, now local Ork[ney]-­K[irk]c[ud]bright. (3) a fit of shaking, from disease or fear; a state of terror or intimidation la19-­, Sh[etland]-­C[entral]. ~ shakins &c herring which have to be shaken out of the net and are thus damaged, inferior herring la20-­, Sh[etland] N[orth]. Sometimes the connection is between only parts of the two regions, as with: smuik n 2 fine thick snow or rain 19-­, Ork[ney] Cai[thness] B[a]nf[f], only Sc. The connection between the Northern Isles and Caithness, as with: steid1 n 2 a site, foundation, base; (1) of building or wall 17-­, now Sh[etland]-­Cai[thness]; (2) of a corn-­ , hay-­ , or peat-­stack (peat1) 18-­, Sh[etland]-­Cai[thness]. or: swelch ~ swelchie &c a whirlpool in the sea la17-­, Ork[ney]Cai[thness]. is particularly strong; this can, perhaps, be explained by a shared Norse heritage. Geographical proximity (particularly between Orkney and Caithness) could also act as an explanation. Ignoring the North-­East dialects for the moment, it is the Caithness dialects which dominate when only one county’s usage is presented, as with: shilp adj, also fig sour, sharp, acid 20-­, Cai[thness]., smyaggar &c vt smear, daub, bespatter 20-­, ~ n a smear; a mess, bespattered state 20-­, Cai[thness]. or:

Cai[thness].



le xis 109

starrach adj, of weather etc cold, bleak, disagreeable 20-­, Cai[thness]. 4.3.1.2.1  North-­East

As previously suggested, the lexical distribution and usage of the North-­East is essentially dominant within the Northern region, as described in the Concise Scots Dictionary. This can probably be attributed mainly to the North-­East’s relatively high population in comparison with Caithness (never mind the Black Isle). The area’s combination of cohesion with considerable local distinctiveness should also be borne in mind. Employing the usage described for the Letter R in the Concise Scots Dictionary, it quickly becomes apparent that, while most of the usage provided represents North-­East usage either as a probable relict zone or as part of a larger distribution pattern, a number of words or meanings are confined either to the region as a whole, as with: rooster &c n useless rubbish 19-­, N[orth]E[ast]. [In my experience, this remains a very common word.] or: rebat vi give a curt, brusque or discouraging reply la19-­, N[orth]E[ast]. Other usage is confined to one part of the region, such as: raik &c . . . 6. vi work energetically and speedily la19-­, B[a]nf[f]. or with a range within the region, such as: runk1 &c n . . . 3. Contemptuous term, esp for a bad-­tempered woman 20-­, M[o]r[a]y Ab[er]d[een]. or: rabbit . . . ~’s sugar child’s word the seeds of the common sorrel 20-­, M[o] r[a]y B[a]nf[f]. Despite the evidence cited here, it is unsurprising that many of the examples found for this region are related to either farming or fishing, the traditional occupations of so many of its residents until quite recently. It would be very difficult to quantify how dominant these are, however.

110

modern scots

4.3.1.3 Central

Given that most Scots speakers speak Central dialects and that the region is also geographically near to the centre of the Scots-­speaking territory, it is unsurprising that many of the usages and patterns found here form part of ranges from further north to further south or represent apparently ‘patchy’ usage, such as: receipt &c . . . 2. n (medical) prescription or preparation la16-­, now A[n] g[u]s Ayr Uls[ter]. 3. n a recipe, 19-­, local Cai[thness]-­K[irk]c[ud]bright. Confining ourselves to the entires under R in the Concise Scots Dictionary, there are a number of examples where all of the Central varieties, or all of the western or southern sub-­varieties, are represented to the exclusion of other varieties. These include: reed . . .~ie of a lead pipe liable to split la20-­ local E[ast]C[entral], W[est] C[entral]. and: roup1 &c . . . bring to the ~ bring to bankruptcy, ruin, 20-­, local E[ast] C[entral]-­ W[est]C[entral]. Some words and usages are found scattered across the region. Interestingly, some of these relate to occupations which were confined to specific regions (and may also have involved considerable movement of people), such as mining: ride &c v . . . 7. mining travel up and down the shift in a cage, la19-­, now Fif[e] L[a]n[ar]k. Given the essentially moribund nature of traditional mining in Scotland, it is very unlikely that any words of this type are being transferred to the present generation and beyond except as heritage-­inspired memories. A small number of entries are confined to single counties, such as: ramstougar adj rough in manner, boisterous, disorderly 19-­, L[a]n[ar]k. A tentative hypothesis for this low occurrence of geographically limited usage is the open nature of most of the terrain of the Central area, coupled with the large-­scale population movements associated with industrialisation and urbanisation. The realities of life in the Central region may encourage both the spread of originally geographically



le xis 111

specific lexis and the loss of lexis outmoded in the (post-­)industrial age. 4.3.1.4 Southern

Analysing the usage found under T in the Concise Scots Dictionary, it becomes apparent that a number of words are recorded with multiple meanings which are confined to the Southern dialect area. These include: tove1 v 1 (1) vt, of a fire etc. emit (smoke or flames) 19-­, now Rox[burgh]. (2) vi, of smoke billow out, rise in the air 19-­e20, Rox[burgh]. 2 rise into the air, soar; hurry along 19-­, now Bwk. 3 swarm or stream out la1 9–20, B[er]w[ic]k Rox[burgh]. ~ at smoke, puff (a pipe etc) la19-­, now Rox[burgh]. On occasion the Southern-­wide usage is confined only to specific meanings and usages within an entry, as with: tear1 v 3 vi teicher esp of a slight wound or sore exude moisture, ooze 19-­e20k B[er]w[ic]k S[outh]W[est], S[outh]. wi the ~ in one’s ee in an emotional or tearful state, in mourning or grief la18-­, now Per[th] W[est] C[entral] K[irk]c[ud]bright. Beyond this, specific words or meanings appear to be confined to the South East dialect area, such as: tailyie n 1 a cut or slice of meat for boiling or roasting, now esp of pork la15-­, now B[er]w[ic]k Rox[burgh]. while others can be found only in the South West (and often Ulster), such as: thole n patience, endurance 20-­, Gall[oway] Uls[ter]. ~ amends freq of health be capable of improvement la18-­, now D[u]mf[ries]. Specific parts of the Southern area are also mentioned, such as (in the South West) Wigtownshire: teedy adj, esp of children cross, fractious; bad-­tempered 19-­, now W[i] gt[own]. and Roxburghshire in the South East area:

112

modern scots

tod1 n 2 a sly, cunning, untrustworthy person 16-­, now local Per[th] S[outh] W[est]. ~die’s grund children’s games a place of sanctuary la19-­, now L[a] n[ar]k Ayr. ~ (‘s) tail(s) 2 the foxglove 20-­, Rox[burgh]. While other counties are mentioned and a statistical analysis would be impossible, it is striking that it is these counties, both relatively distant from the main population centres of their regions, that should exhibit such distinctiveness. Although Ulster usage is discussed in the Concise Scots Dictionary, this appears to be treated largely as an addendum to Scottish usage. For this reason, the next section will discuss Ulster usage in some depth. 4.3.2  Geographical distribution following regional and local resources

Beyond this national resource, local dictionaries and word lists are available. Often excellent in places, these resources are also patchy; with amateur lexicographers in particular we are very much at the mercy of the ability and knowledge of the compiler. 4.3.2.1 Ulster

A number of resources are available in relation to the lexical use of Ulster English and Ulster Scots, in particular when connected to the traditional folkways of the province. As Corrigan (2010: chapter 4) in particular discusses, these resources tend to be partial and based to a large extent on personal intuition and experience rather than any immediate desire to be as consistent and comprehensive as possible. Although sometimes describing only a relatively circumscribed variety, where we can at least normally be certain that the words and meanings reported are of the soil, these works are not always consistent in describing where a particular usage is to be placed; this means that we cannot always be certain whether it is Ulster Scots or Ulster English that is being referred to (in some senses a reasonable non-­decision to take: the two varieties are by no means entirely discrete, as we have seen). In the brief discussion which follows, therefore, we cannot absolutely say that the words and phrases are (or were) all necessarily known and used by what we would now define as Ulster Scots speakers rather than Ulster English – although there are often strong justifications for that type of assumption. The data is taken from what is arguably the only collection of words and phrases from the region which strictly follows the demands of evidence and analysis expected in professional lexicography, the Concise Ulster Dictionary (Macafee 1996), compiled by Caroline Macafee



le xis 113

in the early 1990s from written materials collected in a variety of ways in – at least – the century before its publication. The dictionary is an excellent resource. As Corrigan (2010: 82–8) notes, however, Macafee’s work has a bias towards rural areas and past cultural activities and occupational traditions and roles, leading to the danger that local lexis could be perceived as a heritage item with limited connection to the everyday lives of contemporary inhabitants of the province. Through no fault of her own, moreover, Macafee was generally unable to give an exact sense of where a word or phrase was or is used (for a discussion, see Kirk 1999). Nevertheless, the meticulous nature of the etymologies in particular can allow us to make regular and justifiable assumptions about origin and provenance. In the following paragraphs I will give a greater sense from a small number of examples of the origins and use of a range of words which have been or are employed with Ulster Scots. In the first instance, it must be recognised that Ulster Scots shares a large part of the vocabulary found in other dialects of Scots. There are occasions, unsurprisingly, where its usage locks in primarily with West Central or South Western dialects. The following Concise Ulster Dictionary entry provides a good example of the latter patterning: shuttle1 noun 1. An icicle 2. A sheet of ice on the road. [Also found in Galloway; altered form of Scots shockle, itself a shortened form of Scots and Northern English ice shockle, from Middle Low German īs-­jokel, corresponding to Old English *īs-­ʒicel, which gives icicle.] Sometimes an argument could be made for the Ulster form representing a survival of what may well have been at one time a more common word in the ‘ancestral’ homeland, as with: gornical noun an odd-­looking, dim-­witted person. Co. Antrim. [Cf. rare Galloway gurnel ‘a thick-­ set, oddly-­ shaped man’ and Staffordshire gornel long-­ears ‘donkey’s ears as a sign of stupidity’.] There are occasions when other, less expected, patterns are evinced (even if they appear to be considerably less common). There are, for instance, a number of occasions where the Ulster form at least appears to be that found in Northern Scots dialects, as with: aiwal [ai-­wall] adjective, of an animal having fallen on its back and unable to get up. -­ Adverb onto its back, often fallen aiwal [Scots awald, North-­ Eastern Scots aiwal; from Old Norse afvelta,

114

modern scots

a­ pparently influenced by AWKWARD (hence stress on first syllable); see also AWAL.] and: scarf, scarf, scart, skart noun a bird: (a) the cormorant . . .; (b) the shag . . . [Orkney, Shetland and Northern Scots scarf; otherwise altered in Scots to scart; from Old Norse scarf.] There are even some occasions where similarities can be traced between Ulster and the dialects of the Northern Isles, as with: aaba knot noun a charm used in healing cattle. A knotted string is passed three times over cattle afflicted with the bots (an intestinal disease). [Shetland. The first element is unidentified.] or, more strikingly: moor2 noun a bank of cloud. [Cf. Orkney and Shetland ‘a dense fall of snow’, from Shetland moorkavie ‘a blinding snowfall’ (itself from Norn, cf. Faroese murrukavi).] With some of these examples we can make the argument that, rather than representing direct contact between the dialects, what we have are examples of recessive features which have largely ceased to be used in the industrialised ‘heartland’ but have continued to be employed on the ‘periphery’, where more traditional lifestyles have been perpetuated into recent times (Millar 1999). The Shetland moor example above is much more difficult to explain, however, since the Old Norse provenance of the word would seem to place its origin in Scots in an area where Norn was spoken. This can really only mean Shetland, Orkney and (to a certain extent) Caithness. These regions are hardly in the vicinity of the northern coast of Ireland. There have been some connections between Ulster and the Northern Isles, particularly at the peak of the Herring Fishery in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. It is not impossible that transfer of lexical items between, say, Shetland and Ulster took place; it would be very difficult to demonstrate a convincing and satisfactory chain of evidence representing this between the two regions to substantiate the connection.



le xis 115

There are also occasions where a lexical item has survived which was once common not only in Scots but also in English in general. A particularly striking example of this is: fenster noun a window [Middle English and Older Scots fenester, from Old French fenestre.] since this is a word which was in long-­term (and eventually unsuccessful) competition with Norse window and English eyethirl throughout the Middle English period (see, for instance, the Oxford English Dictionary entry for fenester). It is unsurprising that some of the Scots vocabulary shared with Scotland has a Scottish Gaelic origin. A striking example of this process is: portyoul, portule, partule noun a cry, a howl. ■  Sing portyule cry out e.g. A’ll mak you sing portule wi the wrang side o your lip oot. [Scots; from port ‘a lively pipe tune’ (from Scottish Gaelic port ‘a tune’) + yowl ‘howl’, as if the name of a tune (like ‘Port Lennox’, etc.] Probably closer to the everyday experience of rural Ulster Scots ­speakers is: gait, goat noun 1. A sheaf of corn, tied high up to allow the base to spread, set up on end to dry in the sun; a beat of flax set up in the same way. 2. A STOOK of corn made up of four sheaves tied together at the top. 3. A covering of rushes on a haystack. Verb make GAITS [Scots and Northern English; perhaps the same word as GOAT, influenced by Scottish Gaelic gobhar, which means both ‘a goat’ and ‘a sheaf of corn’.] Given where Ulster Scots is spoken and given that Irish was used over a large part of Ulster until comparatively recently (and continues in Donegal, in close proximity to the Scots-­speaking Laggan district), it is unsurprising that Irish words are found in the heart of the Ulster Scots area, such as: skeagh2, skey, skay noun 1 part of an eel-­trap in a weir, consisting of a wattled wing to guide the eels into the net Lower River Bann. 2. A partial

116

modern scots

loft or half loft in a traditional house. 3. A wickerwork hurdle. Raised about five feet from the ground, on which flax was dried. [Irish sciath ‘any object made of wattlework’.] More striking, perhaps, are those occasions, as with: glake 1. Also glaikin a spancel on the forelegs of an animal to prevent it straying. 2. The process of churning. [Irish glac ‘a grip, a handle’; glakes, glaiks also found in Western Scots. With the form glaikin, cf. Irish glaicin ‘a fetter’.] or: madder, meather, mether noun, historical a four-­sided vessel formed from a single block of wood, and having one, two or four handles. [Irish meadar; also found in South-­Western Scots.] where Gaelic lexical items appear to have come into South-­Western and West Central Scots dialects from Ireland rather than Scotland. If these words were used in connection with urban life, it would be possible to claim that they were transfers occasioned by the large-­scale movement of Irish people into industrial Scotland in the last two centuries; these, however, are rural, agricultural words. It may be that Scottish Gaelic cognates exist for these words, representing concordance rather than origin (although no evidence for this is given, unlike elsewhere in the Concise Ulster Dictionary). The comings and goings by many Scottish families from Ulster to Scotland and back again, along with the strong ties that existed between different branches of the same family situated in either or both of the territories, might well have encouraged this type of (probably unconscious) transfer. A feature inherent in the usage recorded in the Concise Ulster Dictionary is that it is focused primarily on an agricultural basis for the language. Little specific urban usage can be interpreted as primarily Ulster Scots. In a sense, this is unsurprising. As we have already seen, Ulster Scots is not the primary dialect of any major urban area (although it is the primary vernacular of a few country market towns). We are also at the mercy of a corpus which inevitably looks backward, with some focus on passing or past features of local life. Nonetheless, an increasingly urbanised society and population focus inevitably requires the use of vocabulary items foreign to the original linguistic features of the dialect.



le xis 117

4.3.2.2 Southern

The southern dialects have at least one scholarly lexical treatment, Glauser (1972). Based on the Linguistic Survey of Scotland material, this generally excellent work is often more historically focused than would be helpful in this particular book; in any event, it is at the mercy of the traditional focus of the Survey (of which more below). As far as I can see, the only localised popular treatment of any of the South East dialects is Kennington (2006). As discussed in Chapter 2, this pamphlet represents a sadly failed attempt to illustrate the linguistic nature of the lexical material of the cross-­border burgh of Berwick-­upon-­Tweed. Most strikingly, the compiler appears to ignore the Scottish nature of most of Berwick’s local lexis in a way which could be interpreted as wilful. In his discussion of stot ‘to hit, strike’, for example, he plays up the word’s ultimate Dutch origin without even mentioning the prevalence of the word in most dialects spoken on the other side of the present political border (for further discussion, see Millar, Barras and Bonnici 2014: 37). Young Mather (1995: 199–201) provides a very brief discussion of Borders’ usage; the discussion is probably at its most useful in its concentration on lexical connections across the Scottish-­English border. Riach (1979–82) presents a survey of the levels of knowledge of traditional vocabulary in Galloway. From the same work derives the excellent A Galloway Glossary (Riach 1988), connected overtly and in a scholarly manner with the Linguistic Survey of Scotland. Although most of the lexis contained there is fairly widely spread beyond the South-­West (in particular in the general Southern and Central regions), some material is rather more localised. These include bool, with the meaning ‘small potato’ and pinjy ‘getting cold’. With the former, an argument could be made that it is connected to common words such as boul ‘marble’ (of which it might be a metaphorical extension) and adjectives connected to the concept ‘bent’, the Dictionary of the Scots Language, even after multiple searches, does not throw up any more general associations, never mind with potatoes. Pinjy appears utterly opaque. 4.3.2.3 Central

While no direct scholarly interest has been taken specifically with the East Central dialects, a number of non-­scholarly wordbooks for the language use of regions or places in the area are available. Perhaps the most useful of these are those produced by the West Lothian Broadly Scots Society (2008) and O’Day (2014). Both – perhaps particularly the former – are obviously a labour of love; the former, unlike many such popular wordbooks, does not have entertainment as an immediate goal in the sense that its use is implicitly intended to be as a resource. What

118

modern scots

is interesting, however, is that neither of these works, no matter how dedicated and perceptive the compilers were, really present much lexis which is peculiar to their region. With O’Day (2014) there is considerable phonological evidence for the Dundee dialect presented (whether this was intended or not); it also presents valuable sociolinguistic information in its comparison of teuchter (a word which for most Scots speakers primarily refers fairly disparagingly to rural dwellers, although in my dialect refers exclusively to speakers of Gaelic, sadly) forms (such as dee ‘die’) in contrast to specifically Dundonian forms (such as deh ‘die’), which often represent localised forms of Scottish Standard English pronunciation. Interestingly (although historically incorrectly), the former forms (often associated in the pamphlet with Forfar, doubtless through the tension between Angus’ largest settlement and its county seat) are seen as introductions to the city: the local forms are seen as essentially primordial identity markers. Local vocabulary is largely undisclosed, however, despite this being a potentially potent identity symbol as well. Rather more conventional is Murray (1982). Although concentrating on the language of the fishing industry until around the middle of the twentieth century, this work gives a strong sense of the usage of coastal Fife during this period. An illustrative example would be: swithers invisible mites or dried-­up jellyfish dust that irritated eyes of menders, not found in the national collections, although the form switherel

a jellyfish, medusa (from its stinging properties)

is defined as now Fif[e] in the Concise Scots Dictionary. For the West Central dialects arguably the most accomplished treatment by an ‘amateur’ lexicographer is Michael Munro’s The Complete Patter (1996), based upon two earlier collections of 1985 and 1988. The original collection was immensely popular, largely, I think, because of the obvious warmth towards the dialect Munro demonstrates and the illustrative material employed, which often captures the demotic poetry of urban Clydeside speech. The work has been criticised (by Macafee (1994: 18), among others) for its choice of rather obscure turns of phrase employed largely for comic effect. This does indeed happen, as demonstrated by Paisley, get off at, implying coitus interruptus, which is both funny and, I suspect, a most unusual construction (not least because the practice is not one which will regularly turn up in conversation). His



le xis 119

phonological discussions are also not descriptively accurate (even if they display accuracy in relation to the outcome). Most of the examples given are of the soil, however, and represent genuine and regular usage, even if the meaning or turn of phrase involved is rather more general across wider parts of Scotland than Munro appears to suggest (although, to give him credit, he also occasionally demonstrates knowledge of the Scottish National Dictionary tradition). Some of the material presented is very much associated with the cultural context of the Clydeside conurbation (and may not be readily understood by those from outside the region), such as lodge, the: Sometimes pronounced ludge, only one lodge is understood by this [by which he means that the phrase would not be used to refer to, for instance, the Masonic lodge], i.e. the Orange Lodge: ‘Whit d’ye make a that referee . . . another wan up for the Lodge, eh?’

or model: A hostel or lodging-­house for single homeless people: ‘Ye’re gaun aboot lik something oot o a model.’ A modeller in this case is someone who lives in a model. The term comes from the more formal Model Lodging House, the original title of many such establishments.

Unlike many works of this type, dealing with urban usage, Munro attempts a universal split between actual dialect and slang, something particularly important in a city where verbal wit and innovation – the patter – is prized and an active underground producing witty and apposite slang terms appears to be at work. What is striking, however, is that, beyond this burgeoning source of novelty, what Munro reports appears to be fairly ‘thin’ Scots. This may be due to the fact that his work is intent on recording highly marked words and phrases, but, as Macafee (1994) suggests (among other things), both the distinction between dialect and slang from the perception of native Glasgow speakers and the ongoing perpetuation of traditional dialect lexis within the city have atrophied. We will return to these issues later in this chapter and in Chapter 7. 4.3.2.4 Northern

The North-­East of Scotland has a range of lexical resources, generally of considerable quality. These can be represented by relatively small pamphlet-­like collections, such as the Lossie Glossie, as well as rather more substantial collections, such as Buchan Claik (Buchan and Toulmin 1989). Probably the most readily available collection is A Doric Dictionary (Kynoch 2004). All of these share a common feature: they are largely focused on the more traditional dialects of the region, in

120

modern scots

particular in relation to locales associated with traditional occupations. Kynoch (2004) makes a valiant attempt to represent a more global viewpoint, but is hampered by a lack of distinction between historical and (near) contemporary usage. Culturally inspired usage is common. This can include Fastern’s Een ‘Shrove Tuesday’. McClure (1987) also presents a fascinating glimpse into the vocabulary of a passing age (for further discussion see Millar 2007: 89–91). The dialects of the Black Isle are represented only by King Sutherland (an undated pamphlet, probably produced at the latest in the interwar years), including apparently unique lexis, such as mugalees ‘to destroy, make a mess of’, and Am Baile (2009). The second collection in particular is an excellent collection of lexical use among the eldest Scots-­speakers of the Black Isle; both collections are inevitably backward looking, however, demonstrating a strong connection to the now essentially moribund fishing community. McGarrity (1998) presents a discussion of the knowledge of weather vocabulary in Torry, a fishing village which now forms part of Aberdeen; Downie (1983) presents material on traditional vocabulary in Moray. Schlötterer (1996) discusses knowledge of fishing terminology along the east coast; Millar, Barras and Bonnici (2014) cover a similar area with a stronger sense of the nature of lexical attrition and sociolinguistic change. As was discussed in Chapter 2, two book-­length studies of Caithness lexis are available: Sutherland (1992) and Miller (2001). The following brief presentation will be based primarily upon the latter for at least two reasons. In the first instance, this is due to relative age: Miller has obviously read, understood, used and reacted against Sutherland’s work. Moreover, although it is difficult to quantify, Miller (2001) appears to be more wedded to the evidence of present and past Caithness usage without being as swayed by personal views on use and meaning. The two primary traditional occupations of Caithness – fishing and farming – are well represented in Miller (2001). A good example of the former is heckane, ‘in handline fishing, the distance the lead (ripper) is raised above the seabed’. For farming, reesk must suffice. Providing an Old Norse etmology, Miller defines the word as: 1. the uncultivated strip of land between two fields. 2. land covered with natural grass

Both refer to ways of working which are now at best archaic; I have not chosen them specifically to illustrate this fact: the feature is commonplace. The names of birds and animals are also well represented, as with burnie-­baker for the dipper, as well as dirdy lochrag, a name for the newt,



le xis 121

whose second element, Miller suggests, is of Gaelic origin. Plant names are also regularly represented, as with deathin, a name for the water hemlock. Miller notes that ‘[t]he word probably derives from the plant being obnoxious to cattle’, and words referring to specific physical features, such as trink, a ‘small sea creek or inlet, usually under water’, although it is interesting that the word is largely connected to the memory of a specific trink, e trinkie, which was, Miller tells us, ‘a popular bathing spot in Wick’, where a specific (and enjoyable) activity took place, associated with the childhoods of older residents and (in particular, perhaps) exiles. Domestic spaces are also described, as with shik o e lum, referring to the ‘ingleneuk, the corners of an open fireplace’, representing a tradition of living which, in 2001, must have been directly experienced by at most the oldest surviving residents of Caithness. Traditions, too, are described, such as feet-­ale, ‘a drink bought after a cattle sale by the seller for the buyer’, a pastime which is at least unlikely now in a modern reality of large-­scale farming and distant, industrialised, cattle marts. 4.3.2.5 Insular

Shetland is particularly well served by local discussions of lexical use. Paramount is John J. Graham’s The Shetland Dictionary (1993). The compiler was, among other things, headteacher of the only senior secondary in the islands, which meant that, even beyond his own fieldwork experience, he heard the manifold dialects of the archipelago reproduced every day. Unlike many analysts of the lexis of the Northern Isles – most notably, but not solely, Jakob Jakobsen ([1928] 1985) – Graham does not take a fully historical view of local vocabulary, although he does discuss Norn influence at some length in his introduction. Instead, all vocabulary items are treated as essentially equal, with meaning, and meaning alone, lying at the dictionary’s heart. Certain semantic fields apparently dominate in this dictionary. Understandably, words and phrases connected to the sea and fishing are common. These include brimtud ‘sound of sea breaking on shore’, and aandoo, to row gently against the tide in order to maintain a boat’s position. Also used metaphorically to describe slow walking. He was comin aandooin alang da rodd

Weather words, such as dimriv, ‘dawn’, for which Graham provides the example Fae dimriv ta dark he was aye on the go, also form part of this unit, as do words concerned with seaborne animals and birds, such as plucker. Words concerned with farming and husbandry, such as beest, ‘first

122

modern scots

milk taken from newly-­calved cow, when boiled it resembles newly made cheese’ and food, cooking or home, such as hirnik, A corner, hiding-­place. I trunsed trowe every holl and hirnik; a small portion, used figuratively as An dey’re left ta face da storms o Winter wi no a hirnik o da kin (Vagaland, Alamootie),

also represent domestic and traditional ways of life. Place name designators, such as lyoag, ‘a small hollow in the hilss, usually slightly wet and boggy’, are likely to represent a related and ongoing connection to the land and its ownership (a particularly fraught issue in Shetland in the aftermath of the negation of udal law). A further field – less numerous in usage, perhaps, but particularly important in the construction of a sense of unique and localised identity – is related to folklore and custom. A striking example of this is wrestin treed, a popular cure for a sprain was for a wise woman to tie this black thread around the affected part and say the appropriate incantation.

What can be said about most if not all of these examples and fields is that they represent ways of life and living which have come under considerable pressure in the modern world; in particular in Shetland where the exploitation of North Sea Oil from the 1970s altered local ways of working and the demographic patterns of the islands as a whole considerably and rapidly. It is likely that, while some of the lexis recorded in Graham (1993) will probably survive into the usage of Shetlanders born in this century, this will be a far smaller proportion than that transferred to their grandparents from their parents’ language. Many similar points can be made about Orkney lexis, as collected and defined in Flaws and Lamb (1996). Many words, such as arboo ‘maggots in an animal’s back’ or snickle ‘a twitch for a horse’, refer to agriculture (although not necessarily recent agricultural practice). Names for fish, such as marsgrim, referring to the angler fish, remind us of the strong fishing tradition throughout the islands. The physical nature of the local communities is described by words such as oyce (otherwise uiss), ‘a small salt water lagoon trapped behind a shingle spit, a tidal estuary’. Wild flowers, for which Orkney is rightly renowned, are also well represented, as with Yule girs (literally, ‘Christmas grass’) for the meadowsweet. Tradition is also touched upon regularly (including, it could be argued, in many of the agricultural words and phrases found throughout the dictionary). A particularly striking example is Sheep-­right day, referring to ‘that day on which native sheep were required by local law to be rounded up for counting, sheering, culling etc.’ Unlike the folklore



le xis 123

example about to be analysed, this refers to a thoroughly everyday event. It is also confined to the past, however. While not numerous, the compilers’ interest seems to be particularly sparked by discussion of folklore. A particularly striking example of this is Terran, which refers to a sea monster locked in perpetual and seasonal battle with the Mither o the Sea. It would be interesting to discover the extent to which younger people in the islands are aware of these stories and traditions. 4.3.3  Conclusion: the lexicographical tradition

The evidence presented by local and regional dictionaries can therefore be analysed as both helpful but limited: indicative rather than demonstrating patterns which can truly be analysed empirically. There is a palpable need for more regional dictionaries based upon sound scholarly practice. I would argue that this is particularly the case for both the Southern and Central dialect groupings 4.4  Geographical distribution following the Linguistic Atlas of Scotland

Beyond the Scottish dictionary tradition, another national resource is available as a means of mapping and describing use: the Linguistic Atlas of Scotland (Scots Section; the Atlas regularly contains material on Ulster and Northern England, despite its title). Based upon the techniques of traditional dialectology, including large-­ scale and concentrated fieldwork designed to capture (among other things) the phonological and lexical patterns of individual locales and also regions, the work is monumental in scope, brilliant in execution and occasionally flawed in relation to the methodology employed. While striving for geographical coverage, the Atlas is often less socially aware than it might be, in particular in relation to urban usage. As with all works of scholarship of this type, moreover, what was recorded is not always guaranteed to represent the true distribution of pronunciations and words – fi­ eldworkers are always at the mercy of the reliability and representativeness of their informants; the level of fieldwork skills possessed may also differ between fieldworker and fieldworker. Nevertheless, there are many occasions when we can approach patterns of lexical use through the employment of the Atlas. While it would be possible to write thousands of words on the subject, the following attempts in a relatively small space the regional distribution patterns of certain Scots words. A number of patterns of this type are to be found within the Linguistic Atlas.

124

modern scots

Heterogeneity is often the presiding feature in the distribution of lexis. This does not mean, however, that all the Atlas presents is a random distribution. We can see this with clyack (LAS, II, 71). According to the Atlas, the word (probably derived from a Gaelic source) and its variants, referring to the corn dolly made from the last corn sheaf cut at harvest time, is found practically solely in the North-­East, in the northern parts of South Northern and in the Nairn and Black Isle varieties associated with North Northern dialects. Interestingly, apparently similar forms are also, according to the Atlas, to be found dotted across Ulster, suggesting, perhaps, the borrowing from a similar root in Irish, rather than the transfer of a Scottish usage during the Plantation of the seventeenth century. Clyack appears on this occasion to refer to a young woman. It is interesting, therefore, that the most common word for the concept in both North-­East Central and in the westerly parts of the South West, along with the southernmost parts of the West Central dialects is maiden. In most of the Central dialect area and in the eastern parts of the South West, however, the dominant term is kirn. Surprisngly, however, clyack is also to be found in the lower Tweed valley, an area where Gaelic influence, if any could be posited, would be very ancient indeed. It could be argued that the near universal nature of the tradition the corn dolly encapsulates – the celebration of the successful completion of the harvest – both complements and is in conflict with the localised practices and customs strongly associated with at least older farming areas and connections through largely localised forms of trade to nearby markets. A similar pattern is to be found with words for ‘seagull’, a ubiquitous, although not necessarily loved, feature of coastal life. At one level, as the Atlas suggests (I, 119), by far the most widespread word for the bird along the east coast is maw, with words such as white or sea often preceding it. A number of other patterns are perceptible, however; in particular in northern Scotland. In coastal Kincardineshire, for instance, the form plingie is recorded, uniquely for Scotland. In the area to the east of Buckie at the mouth of the River Spey along the north coast of the North-­East, we are informed, (sea) peul is the most widespread form, while to the west (sea) gow is the norm. There is a transitional zone between these two areas. On the east coast of Caithness, centred around the town of Wick, scorrie, as well as scurrie, are found (although maw is also known). The Linguistic Atlas of Scotland is, of course, now of some age; it cannot always be guaranteed to represent contemporary usage. With ‘seagull’, unlike many other usages discussed in this section, I can actually provide something of an update. In fieldwork carried out in 2010 and



le xis 125

2011 and discussed in Millar, Barras and Bonnici (2014: 115–18), it was found that not only was the distribution of words used for this creature more complex than the Atlas suggests, but the word used often had local or regional identity associations. Moreover, particularly in the Northern dialect zone, people were often highly aware of the words used elsewhere, although they did not normally use these themselves. It is very likely that the primary reason for this widespread ability to understand diverse vocabulary items across a considerable area is the previously prevalent fishing industry and its concomitant connections, business and personal, between ports (along with the need to distinguish between them. Thus maw was associated (as maa) by Wick people with the population of their arch rival, Thurso; Peterhead people saw myaave as uniquely associated with their near neighbours in the area around Fraserburgh. By the same token, the word scorrie or scurrie was associated by both residents and outsiders with Wick and Peterhead. At least as our informants understood it, pewlie was connected to Gardenstown (Gamrie) and the area around, while, to their west, Lossiemouth people used the word gow. It was our impression, interestingly, that these cut and dried distributions are relatively recent; however, our oldest informants often used two or more terms, nowadays associated with the usage of their near neighbours, where younger people used one (but are aware of a number of others external to their natural usage and interpreted specifically as geographically external as well). Thus many of the features of the Atlas distribution may actually be thoroughly vindicated, given the date at which their survey was carried out. Similar features are to be found in relation to other localised occupations and industries, such as mining and the coal trade in general, including the distribution of words for ‘coal dust’. The word I grew up using for this is coom. The Atlas (II, 38) gives this word a wide distribution in the Southern dialects (with the exception of the western part of the South West area), most of the East Central area (including a number of quite northerly parts of that area) and in pockets of the West Central area. Many other words found across Scotland are variants of the rather generic dust, stew or stoor. But words like dross (found in central Scotland, south-­ west Galloway, Dumfriesshire, the eastern Borders (in both Scotland and England), in small pockets in the North-­East, Nairn, the Black Isle and Inverness, as well as parts of Caithness), as well as drush, which may well be a variant of the preceding, found in pockets of the North-­East, and gum, found in Ayrshire and Renfrewshire, represent a more concentrated usage pattern. Interestingly, the heartlands of many of these usages appear centred on former mining areas. There are occasions, however, where usage is much less widely

126

modern scots

distributed. It would be impossible to give a full sense of the regional and local patterns provided in the Linguistic Atlas of Scotland, primarily because the evidence provided there is so rich, varied and, often, difficult to interpret correctly. The following discussion really only scratches the surface, therefore. Evidence exists where Eastern and Western dialects are differentiated from each other. A striking example of this is related to the words used in Scots for a perch for a bird (LAS, I, 54). According to the Atlas, the word roost is found throughout the Central dialects. It is also by far the most common word for the concept in Ulster. In central and southern Scotland, however, roost is in direct competition with other words; these words appear especially to be associated with particular regions. In large parts of west central Scotland the word bauk or baak is to be found. This word, in various forms is also particularly commonplace in the Northern dialects and, to a degree, in the insular dialects. In the Central dialects, interestingly, it is also to be found in the Falkirk and West Fife and Clackmannanshire areas, associated with the coal and iron trades during the Industrial Age. It would be wrong to make too much of one example, but movement of workforce from related concern to related concern across the Central Belt during this period might well have occasionally affected the lexical choice of specific places associated with this individual and group movement. In the eastern parts of south and central Scotland, however, other patterns generally prevail. From eastern Lanarkshire, across Lothian and into the eastern Borders, spar or spaur are the most widespread forms. In the western Borders and, on this occasion, the far east of Dumfriesshire, on the other hand, spaik is widespread (it should be noted that variants of bauk are also occasionally found in these regions). A more common pattern of usage found in the Atlas, perhaps, is represented by those occasions where Northern dialects (whether as a whole, individually or in smaller networks) are distinct in comparison with other dialects. In relation to the concept ‘gutter (along roof)’, rone is widespread across the country (although there is a trace of gutter across the Central Belt and in the Inverness area, where it is realised alongside the more widespread form). In the North-­East (including on this occasion the South Northern dialect zone and the Dundee area) and Orkney, however, spout or spot are regularly found. Interestingly the same forms are also found in the Tweed valley in the far South-­East of the country and, indeed, in a considerable part of the North-­East of England. This distribution may represent the retreat of older forms into geographically marginal dialects due to the processes of change, as I suggested in Millar (1999), although spout as a noun or verb is



le xis 127

widespread – perhaps even ubiquitous – in the English-­speaking world, and that the metaphorical extension suggested here does not need to have stemmed from one source. In Ulster, however, both in Scots-­and English-­speaking areas, the regular word for the concept is spoutin(g). The Southern dialects are, in fact, often both heterogeneous and at variance with the other dialects (occasionally, and in line with Johnston’s essentially phonological analysis, the eastern end of the Tweed valley falls into line with the usage of the East Central area rather than the dialects of the areas up river; this is not always the case, however). A striking example of this relates to the words for ‘to brand (sheep)’ (LAS, II, 62). In both the Central and Northern dialects zones, the word generally prevalent is keel, although there are pockets of other patterns of use, most notably mark, found in Fife, parts of Perthshire and Angus, Aberdeenshire, Moray and Nairnshire. In both the South West and South East dialects, however, probably the most widespread form is buist. The form bist is also realised, however, in the Stranraer area, upper Annandale and the eastern Southern Uplands, including the hillier parts of Midlothian and East Lothian. Baste is found in lower Teviotdale and Tweedsdale; it is also recorded across the border in Northumberland. Of course, all of these forms are likely to be variants of the same word, based upon the phonologies of the various districts. Keel is also recorded along the coast of Dumfriesshire. While there need not be concrete explanations for this distribution, the fact that the sheep trade was until recently highly localised and that the breeds of sheep involved and the traditions of their care and exploitation were often associated with highly circumscribed regions connected to particular markets might have encouraged considerable regional variation; particularly, perhaps, in the upland south of Scotland, where the sheep trade is (or at least was) dominant. It has to be recognised, however, that the Atlas, while a tremendous resource, cannot give as sound a sense of geographical distribution as we might wish. The tension between providing a national resource and mapping local use is considerable, although the Atlas might be claimed to exhibit a more successful synthesis of this issue than is the case with the national dictionary tradition. 4.5  Distribution of meaning: a thesaurus-­based approach

In this chapter we have been concerned primarily with the origin of lexis or its present geographical distribution. There is, however, a further way of considering the vocabulary of a language: distribution across semantic fields. In any language this type of survey is best carried out

128

modern scots

through the use (or, if necessary, creation) of a thesaurus. Unusually for a lesser-­used language which has not gone through standardisation, a high-­quality Scots Thesaurus is available, a thesaurus, moreover, which is closely related to the Concise Scots Dictionary (as we have seen, probably the single best portable Scots dictionary available), the material in that dictionary being ‘turned inside out’ and, when necessary, broken down so that the same headword is used in a number of discrete semantic contexts. It makes sense, therefore, to consider how this thesaurus is constructed, paying attention to vocabulary items which fall within some of these categories. What general information we can gain in relation to the distribution and state of Scots lexis will then be assessed. The design of the Scots Thesaurus, as is the case with all thesauruses, appears to represent a compromise in relation to both the audience envisaged and the material presented within the corpus which inevitably underlies the thesaurus (in this occasion a well-­established dictionary which presents its own structures and traditions, something which is likely to bring with it its own issues). The Scots Thesaurus seems intended at some levels to satisfy the needs of both literary artists wishing a more diverse ‘palate’ of Scots lexis for their work and readers who do not necessarily speak Scots (although they might well write it). Moreover, there is a long-­standing thesaurus-­building tradition of practice underlying the Scots Thesaurus in relation to semantic field distribution and the laying out of relationships within thesaurus construction which goes at least as far back as Roget’s work at the beginning of the nineteenth century (see, for instance, Rennison 2007). This tradition can certainly be altered in relation to specific needs; taking this distinction too far can be problematical, however, since doing so lessens the chances of comparison between thesaurus and thesaurus as much as between the usage analysed between language and language. Furthermore, it should be noted that, although largely concerned with contemporary or near-­ contemporary usage, the (recent) historical focus of the Concise Scots Dictionary means that words and meanings no longer in use in Scotland are to be found in the Scots Thesaurus. This is potentially confusing, but also helps to give a sense of depth to our appreciation of an ongoing tradition. The Scots Thesaurus is laid out in fifteen main sections. These are: (1) birds, wild animals, invertebrates; (2) domestic animals; (3) water life; (4) plants; (5) environment; (6) water, sea, ships; (7) farming; (8) life cycle, family; (9) physical states; (10) food and drink; (11) law; (12) war, fighting, violence; (13) architecture, building, trades; (14) religion, superstition, education, festivals; (15) emotions, character, social behaviour. Naturally, within these large-­scale distinctions finer distinctions



le xis 129

are drawn. The present section cannot hope to give a full sense of the intricate nature of these sub-­divisions; nor can it hope to give a sense of the diversity present for all these categories; nonetheless, it is hoped that a vivid impression of diversity will become apparent, as well as an inkling of what is apparently missing from the record. In relation to section 1, concerned with birds, wild animals and invertebrates, a natural breakdown between orders of creatures is presented. What is striking, however, is that the breakdown in relation to birds is more detailed than is the case with the section as a whole, dealing with (among other things) different habitats as well as the appearance of different species and the sounds that they make. It is not immediately possible to provide a reason for this complexity, although many bird species do live their lives in close proximity to humans in ways that other animals need not. They are also highly localised in their habits. By the same token, many species of birds are well loved by humans for their characters and their appearance, even if other species are eaten with relish. Both explanations are, of course, likely to be true. Words recorded for birds run from the purely descriptive, such as kae for ‘jackdaw’, a kind of crow, through what can be seen as an affectionate touch to the meaning, such as cutty wran, a name given to the wren in South Western dialects or cushie (-­doo), a name given to a range of different kinds of pigeon throughout mainland Scotland, to birds which, at least to some, have a dark reputation, such as deil’s bird, referring to the magpie, presently found in Aberdeenshire. Some birds, such as corbie, referring to members of a number of crow species, including the carrion crow, also carry a dark association because of their connection to folk literature – on this occasion the ballad of the ‘Twaw corbies’, arguably the darkest product of a predominantly dark genre. Inevitably, many birds are only associated with one habitat (or series of habitats). The Scots Thesaurus distinguishes between two such: birds associated with moors, marshes and freshwater sites as against birds associated with the sea coast and the sea itself. The former category includes the rock lintie, a phrase used in Caithness and whitterick, referring to the curlew, employed patchily in the Central and South Eastern dialects. In relation to seabirds, a few names appear generally used, such as pirr, used for the common tern. Many examples, however, show a rather fractured distribution, often associated with geographically discrete areas, such as sea pyot, ‘oyster catcher’, reported in Aberdeenshire, Angus and in Galloway. It is true that, by their nature, coastal communities tend to be somewhat separated from their rural hinterlands and that, moreover, the communities may have been connected to other fishing communities across considerable distances. But it also very

130

modern scots

likely that the retreat of distinctive lexis into geographically separated places is very much a feature of the development of Modern Scots (for a discussion of the highly distinctive use of lexis for seagulls, see Millar, Barras and Bonnici (2014), as described above). Wild animals are given a less nuanced treatment in the Scots Thesaurus. This may be related to the fact that much of the lexis associated with this field is shared with the large section on domesticated animals which follows it. Some of the words involved are relatively widespread, such as stoat weasel, referring to the common stoat or ermine, used across a large part of Scotland, albeit in pockets. Less widespread are words like brawn, a boar, found only in the Southern dialects. Particularly interesting is moup (otherwise moppie, mup-­mup and, under a different headword, mappie or map-­map), defined as a child’s pet form for a rabbit, found across a large part of Scotland. Mappie is also the onboard taboo avoidance term for ‘rabbit’ used among the fishing communities of the east coast. While it is difficult to say exactly why rabbits should be considered unlucky aboard boats, it is not impossible that what is considered good luck on land was considered by fishers to have opposite associations on the sea. Given that reptiles are rare in both size of population and diversity of species in Scotland and Ireland, it is surprising that they receive a section to themselves in the Scots Thesaurus; the section is, indeed, short. Interestingly, however, the common lizard has different regional terms. In the North-­East of Scotland and Kinrossshire, variants of heather ask are found, while man-­keeper is preferred in southern Scotland and Ulster. The scale of the invertebrates section is rather larger. While some of the words and phrases are fairly widely spread across the Scots-­speaking zone, such as dusty miller, a ‘kind of bumblebee which deposits a light dust on the hand when seized’, apparently found ‘locally’ from Aberdeenshire to Roxburghshire, other lexical items are much more circumscribed in geographical use, such as stripey, a ‘red and yellow striped worm used as angling bait, a bramble-­worm’, reported for Dunbartonshire and the Stewartry of Kirkcudbright. Domestic animals are dealt with in considerable detail, primarily because they are both a major economic (and indeed cultural) focus for rural regions and because these regions are specifically associated with ‘good’ traditional Scots. In first position stand cattle. Again, some terms are common across a large area, as with paunch, ‘puncture the large stomach of (an animal, esp a ruminant) to allow accumulated gases to escape, probe’ (given the distressing, but commonplace, nature of this condition it is perhaps not surprising that the term should be widespread). The use of other words or phrases is rather more circumscribed, as with bull-­segg, referring to a bull castrated as an adult, confined to Aberdeenshire.



le xis 131

On occasion a degree of confusion (or at least variation) can be found with some of the most common words. In my experience, stirk can only refer to a young bull; apparently, some speakers also use it for a heifer, however (although sex information is often supplied in phrases such as heifer-­stirk). Similar issues are clear in relation to sheep. For instance, strik or strike refers to ‘the infestation of sheep maggots’; according to the Scots Thesaurus (and its sources) this word is found throughout Scotland, with the exception of the Northern Isles. Coupy, on the other hand, referring to the relatively common situation where a sheep has somehow ended up on its back and cannot rise, is confined to the Southern dialects (although given the fact that coup ‘fall over, throw away’ is a commonplace word, it would be difficult to make the claim that such a construction would necessarily be rare or unusual – it could crop up anywhere). Interestingly, rather more breeds of sheep are included in this section than was the case for cattle. Rather fewer words are offered for pigs, although some, such as pock-­ shakings (literally, the crumbs left in a bag after food has been eaten) for the smallest pig in a litter, demonstrate considerable metaphorical transfer and are common across Scotland and Ulster; many of the words given, such as harkie, presently found in Shetland, are hiatus avoidance terms, associated particularly, although not exclusively, with seaborne contexts. Horses attract rather more words, from the highly localised, such as teenge, a colic usually found in horses, recorded in the borderland between South Northern and North-­East Central dialects, and sholtie and its variants, referring to ponies, especially of the Shetland type, which are found across the Scots-­speaking world. Related to elements of this section are those words and phrases connected to farming and other rural occupations. Naturally that section is of considerable length and complexity, so that it would be difficult to give as full a representation of the nuances involved as might be wished for. Nevertheless, a range of common tendencies and features can be illustrated in the following. A number of lexical items are designated as general, miscellaneous. Widespread items include muirburn, the ‘controlled burning of moorland to clear the way for new growth’, a practice almost ubiquitous in the past in Scotland and essentially obvious in its designation. Words and phrases used in a more circumscribed area include plowter (otherwise pleuter or ploiter), now confined to Shetland and Aberdeenshire, referring to the ruination of land through bad husbandry. Sections concerned with the layout and build of farms are then given. These include words and phrases such as tryst, referring to a livestock market in particular or

132

modern scots

a fair not officially constituted, recorded for parts of the North-­Eastern and North-­East Central dialect areas (I suspect that, given the changes in farming practice and central government regulation, this word in this meaning will only be fully current in the use of the oldest people in the region) or hutch ‘an embankment built up to check erosion caused by running water’, reported only for Roxburghshire. The nature of land ownership and tenancy is also considered (although it is striking that a great many of the terms given are now obsolete – suggesting that the nature of land tenure has altered considerably over the last century and that any new words required have originated in the various registers of mainstream English). Representative of those that remain is park or perk, which refers primarily to the enclosure previously of ‘wild’ land as fields through the use of fencing, walls or ditches, apparently found universally. This verb is particularly interesting because it refers to the Scots use of the noun park in relation to an enclosed piece of land (as in the ironic or sarcastic question: ‘Were you hauled up in a park?’, asked when someone acts in an uncultured or rude manner). A considerable number of words related to those who work on a farm are also recorded in the Scots Thesaurus. At least numerically, words for the owner or long-­term tenant of a farm are less prevalent than are words related to farm servants of various types, such as the omnipresent orra man, arguably the lowest person in the farm hierarchy, someone who does odd jobs (the lowly nature of the job makes it almost proverbial: twenty years ago, while travelling on a bus in Aberdeen, I heard a mother saying through gritted teeth to her teenage daughter: ‘if ye cairry on like this, ma quine, the orra man’ll nae hiv ye’ – particularly striking in an urban environment). Even so, many of the words related to the day-­to-­day carrying out of farm employees’ duties, such as nicky tams, the string or twine used to hold up trouser bottoms in wet or dirty contexts, while current in the sense that many people still know the word(s), have been superseded by more modern means of avoiding having unpleasant substances on clothing, not least in a period where mechanisation has rendered many former farming tasks redundant. Similar issues are to be found with words concerned with farmland and the farming process itself. Some of these words and phrases are relatively circumscribed in their use, such as hen(’s) croft, the part of a cornfield much frequented by fowl and therefore much lessened in returns, ‘now’ found only in Banffshire and Aberdeenshire; others appear widespread, such as cam, ‘the tilt or angle given to a furrow as it falls over from the ploughshare, adjusted by the setting of the coulter’. I remember as a child hearing older family friends from an agricultural background occasionally using this word, sometimes figuratively,



le xis 133

particularly in relation to the construction and upkeep of roads. Even in the early 1970s, however, this was an historical usage employed self-­consciously to refer to past patterns of work, no matter how vividly recalled. Nevertheless, looking through the whole section, therefore, it is highly apparent that much of the specifically Scots lexis used appears to have been superseded by more mainstream words which are largely homogenised and with considerable geographical coverage. While much of the traditional vocabulary is still known by some people, I would be very surprised if this remained anything but vestigial after those born between the wars are gone. Thus one of the apparent central sources for the survival of a considerable part of traditional Scots lexis can be seen also as emblematic of how closely that vocabulary was associated with a way of life now connected to a receding past. A further set of examples from a combination of fields apparently with considerable representation in the Scots Thesaurus can be found in the section entitled Emotions, Character and Social Behaviour. It can be hypothesised, given what we have seen previously, that, because of the personal and emotionally charged nature of many of these topics, the range (and variety) of lexical items found within these interlocking fields would be considerable, many of which would still be current (people do not, perhaps, change much in relation to their emotional needs and the ways in which they express them). The section begins with an illustration of ‘general or neutral terms’. As we have come to expect, some of these are geographically circumscribed, such as tid, a mood or humour, found in the Central, Southern and Ulster dialects, while others, such as tholeable, essentially equivalent to ‘tolerable’, is found in all mainland and Ulster dialects, but not in the Northern Isles. A considerable number of words are also exemplified in relation to intelligence (such as smartie, referring to someone of considerable intellectual ability – apparently general) and stupidity (including sumph, referring to someone of limited ‘get up and go’ and intellectual vigour – found throughout mainland Scotland). Given the universal propensity to focus on less impressive aspects of other ­people’s characters and the Scottish cultural distrust of the expression of praise, it is probably unsurprising that more lexical items are expressed in relation to stupidity than to its opposite. Something similar can be said in relation to the dichotomy of optimistic as against pessimistic meanings, where it is only the latter which is given its own sizeable section, including mowdiewort, normally a word for the mole, used for a recluse in Aberdeenshire, Fife and Lothian: an east coast usage pattern. This extension of meaning is also found in relation to words and phrases for aggressive behaviour (again, there is no peaceful or at least

134

modern scots

passive equivalent), as seen with attercap, now found only in Shetland and Angus, where its incidence is patchy, historically a word for ‘spider’ which, according to the Scots Thesaurus, refers to a ‘spiteful or venomous person’. Along with other negative character traits, general weakness of character is given considerable numerical prominence, as with daeless, ‘helpless, feeble, useless’, now found only in Stirlingshire. This point holds true for words concerned with treacherous chapter traits. This can move from the essentially inexplicable, as with the use of Fifer, someone from Fife, refering to someone of an unscrupulous and cunning nature, to the commonplace lick lipping for someone who fawns over someone or something. Not all sections of the Scots Thesaurus offer such rich pickings, however. The section on law, for instance, while of considerable length, is not particularly ‘popular’. Latinate terms, such as mora, ‘delay in pressing a claim or obligation which may infer that the action has been abandoned by the pursuer’, predominate. Under most circumstances this could be seen as representing a trade argot. It would be dangerous to build up too strong an argument from the absence of evidence, but it could be suggested, as will be the case in our discussion of Scots in literature in Chapter 6, that there is a definite concentration in the use of specifically Scots vocabulary items in the language of everyday life (in particular in relation to traditional rural contexts), including concepts of immediately perceptible emotions and behaviour. As suggested above, abstraction is not a strong point in the language’s semantic spread. These issues will now be dealt with in relation to the concepts of dialect attrition and dialect death. At a more general level, we can see that, while the eclectic approach we have used here in relation to dialect distribution is useful, it does not provide as comprehensive a sense of distribution as we might wish. It raises more questions than it answers; at best it is a beginning rather than an end. 4.6  Lexical change and attrition

Languages change; features which were once prevalent become less common and finally cease to be used. This is an incontestable truth. Lexical use is probably the part of language use most given to this phenomenon; it is definitely the most rapid in doing so and most visible to non-­linguists. Words and phrases change meaning rapidly; they also drop out (and in) of fashion regularly. Thus words – Standard English words – which I knew and used as a child have ceased to be used or are used in a different way from what my early experience was. Vex is a good example



le xis 135

of this: while it has not died out (at least not yet), it is significantly less common (in my experience) than was the case fifty years ago. What is different about Scots vocabulary is that it is regularly replaced by English words, largely from the colloquial register. To some extent this is likely to be due to exposure to the mass media, which are inevitably dominated by major population – and political – centres such as London, New York and Los Angeles. How the education system has reacted to the use of the vernacular is likely also to have affected the situation. While some Scots vocabulary has survived and in doing so changed meaning (such as stank, originally a drain within a farmyard which in urban areas has assumed the meaning ‘drain’, particularly at the bottom of a drainpipe), the future does not appear particularly bright for an independent Scots lexical system (for a discussion of the process by which Scottish traditional lexis can become moribund, see Durham 2014). What is striking with these examples, however, is that many of the occupations in particular which are especially well represented in a work like the Scots Thesaurus are not as well represented in the everyday life of contemporary Scotland and Ulster as might once have been the case. Many of the trades represented – coal mining or fishing for instance – are essentially moribund, at least in relation to how they were carried out even in the period preceding the Second World War. Other occupations – carpentry and housebuilding, for instance – are still highly prevalent in Scotland, naturally, but have changed in so many ways (not least in relation to work practices and technology) that past lexical use has marginal connections at best with modern needs. While it would be wrong to claim that specifically Scots vocabulary is not used in the new industries and concerns that came into being in the late twentieth and early twenty-­first centuries (industries and concerns in which, at least at times, Scotland has had a strong stake), the haul is not rich and often appears to represent tokenism or humorous, peripheral, usage. Even in occupations related to institutions of long standing – such as, for instance, the ancient Scottish universities – only occasional words and phrases survive. Thus, at the University of Aberdeen, the leading members of the ancillary staff – who historically acted as caretakers for the University Estates and still carry the University regalia at graduations and other official events – are termed sacrists. It may be the case that most people who use these words are unaware that these are specifically Scots or, beyond that, local. Much of specifically Scots lexis is, it appears, retreating into the past. To see how this can happen, let us consider the lexical use of the fishing communities of the east coast of Scotland (see Millar, Barras and Bonnici 2014 for further discussion). Until the twentieth century these

136

modern scots

communities – which had become focused on one trade during the early modern period – were somewhat cut off from the mainstream of Scottish life, including often their near landward neighbours. Prejudice against fishing communities was certainly present at times (although there was also a degree of self-­ghettoisation: ‘the cod and the corn dinna mix’); the cultural development of the communities was also unusual in Scottish terms: evangelical forms of Protestantism such as the (Plymouth) Brethren, rare elsewhere in the country, were well known, for instance; closely integrated multi-­generational families associated with individualistic ideas of self-­help also marked off fishing people from other Scots. At the same time the communities developed strong ties with each other and with fishing centres in England and beyond. This separate identity led to considerable distinctiveness in lexical choice in the fishing communities. This included, naturally, trade-­ specific vocabulary, such as barkin, the treatment applied to waterproof clothes and ropes before the advent of plastic, as well as words and phrases associated with the everyday lives of the communities, such as scarth ‘cormorant’. The flora and fauna surrounding the communities are, naturally, well represented, as are weather descriptions and an awareness of the local and general sea conditions. Most of these were very important to the ongoing prosperity of the communities; some were absolutely vital to the health and well-­being of community members. This wealth of usage is witnessed by both national and local dictionaries and other resources; naturally the words and phrases employed varied considerably between community and community (although there were also many similarities along the coast). While some of this diversity has been maintained along the littoral, much has also been lost. In fieldwork and analysis carried out by me, William Barras and Lisa Marie Bonnici in the period 2009–11, in a number of representative communities along the east coast, it quickly became apparent that knowledge – never mind actual use – had become patchy in all communities (although more appeared to have been retained in the northern localities than in the south, partly because of continuing fishing activity in some ports, but also due to distance from the standardising centre, perhaps). Some of this apparent loss is understandable. As was suggested above, new technologies and practices have meant that many of the items and processes to which the inherited lexis referred are no longer employed. Thus there is little or no need to continue using (or even knowing) the lexis associated with, for instance, the line fishery, since this was discontinued and replaced with other methods of fishing for cod, haddock and other species before the Second World War at the latest. More striking, however, are instances where the intrinsic needs



le xis 137

of the community have not changed, even if what is used to service these needs has changed. There will always be the need for waterproof (or at least water-­retardant) clothing in the fishing industry. Into living memory the primary means of attempting this process was by barkin, the use of a painted-­on material on all forms of clothing, an activity carried out within the community, often by the womenfolk and the elderly. Waxcloth – and later oilcloth – technologies essentially ended this tradition, however. Thus the sou’wester, generally mass produced, replaced earlier homemade garments. While some local pronunciations are used with this item, it nonetheless acts as a useful means of demonstrating how generalised and standardised terminology replaces local. It is hardly ever the case that local words for general concepts are now coined. In the communities, however, this patchy knowledge extends well beyond fully fishing-­centred lexis. Local words for flora and fauna are known only by some younger informants; even omnipresent features of the seaside scene, such as seaweed (waar or ware is historically the most common word for this concept, possibly because it refers specifically to seaweed used to fertilise fields) are seldom represented by local lexis by all community members. When we consider this alongside local vocabulary items relating to common animals and climatic conditions, where, again, knowledge may be context specific, highly generalised (so that a word for a specific period in a species’ life cycle may be used for that creature at any time in its life) or only known among younger members of a community if they are involved in some way or another in the heritage industry (thus meaning that their knowledge of local lexis is in a way not sourced directly but rather mediated through other speakers’ knowledge as well as education and research) it would be over-­optimistic to predict their ‘natural’ survival. The language of Scots Law acts as a counter-­current to these homogenising tendencies. Since the guarantee of independence of the Scottish legal system – different in conception and practice from that found in England and Wales – in the 1707 Union settlement, the vocabulary employed has retained a decidedly Scottish flavour. This can be seen in the use of Latinate vocabulary such as propone (where Standard English has propose); it is also found in phrases such as furth of (as in furth of Scotland, for instance, this decision cannot be enforced furth of Scotland) which are, oddly, not found in Scots but are nonetheless confined to Scotland. This survival is particularly surprising given that most members of the legal professions in Scotland – particularly at its upper levels – are from a middle-­class background where the use of Scots as an everyday language is overwhelmingly unknown (although they would normally speak with a Scottish accent). Similar, albeit lesser, phenomena are

138

modern scots

to be found in the language of the Church (the perpetuation of the Presbyterian Scottish Church organisation is also guaranteed by the 1688 and 1707 settlements), such as Kirk Session, the governing body of a congregation, made up of the minister and the kirk elders, and other national institutions. It could be argued that this represents archaism – perhaps even fossilisation – rather than genuine and popular survival. 4.7 Conclusion

A central point made in this chapter is that Scots has a diverse lexis often highly divergent from Standard English pattern. Some of this lexis demonstrates influence from other languages over lengthy time periods. Inevitably, the same lexical items are not used across all or a considerable part of the Scots-­speaking world. A large part of it is, however, even if those items are better preserved in one area than in others. Beyond this, an attempt – only partly successful, it could be claimed – was made to sketch the geographical patterns of use in traditional varieties, relating this to some extent to semantic distribution. We should not be too sanguine about this, however. As was demonstrated in the final section in particular, there is considerable evidence that, as traditional work patterns and culture have faded away, much that was once specific and local has also passed. This issue will be discussed further in Chapter 7. Exercises

1. Choose a Scots dialect. What materials are available online describing its lexis? Are all resources intended for the same audience? Are they all of the same value? 2. Choose two chapters in the Scots Thesaurus. Compare and contrast the level of density of usage and its geographical distribution. 3. Compare the defining practices of national and local lexical resources. 4. Given that most Scots speakers live in urban areas, how well is the lexis of these varieties represented in national and local collections? Note

1. Probably the best introductions to this subject available are Macafee (1997a) and Tulloch (1997). The first should perhaps be read through the second, because of its largely medieval and early modern focus.

5  Structure: the grammar of Modern Scots

5.1  Grammar and linguistic difference

When we learn languages at school, the task of learning grammar, as it is normally termed, is a matter of learning an entirely – or at least a largely – new system, inherently different from our own. This perception is certainly accurate to a degree. There are, however, a number of ways in which languages and their structures can present similarities across apparent boundaries. With the exception of a small number of language isolates, such as Basque, which have no living relatives, most languages have relatives exhibiting different degrees of closeness. Many of these are situated in close geographically proximity as well. Given both genetic and geographical proximity, it is unsurprising that the morphology and syntax of languages in this situation do not always differ from each other markedly. Norwegian, Swedish and Danish, for instance, exhibit a considerable number of features which are shared by all three languages, such as the use of an enclitic definer, as with: Norwegian (and Swedish)

mannen

Danish manden man-­DEF ‘the man’

Equally interestingly, dialects of the different Scandinavian languages may be closer morphosyntactically to the structures of the other languages than they are, in theory at least, to their own standard variety (this is particularly the case, perhaps, in the linguistic ‘borderlands’ of what we would classify as ‘Norwegian’ and ‘Swedish’: the linguistic boundary does not fall exactly where the state borders lie). When comparing closely related languages, it is normally impossible to separate the primary features of the two or more varieties’ morphosyntax in a wholly meaningful way. Moreover, language varieties used in a particular space are rarely 139

140

modern scots

equal in status. The same is also true for their speakers. The grammatical patterns (and peculiarities) of the variety associated with formal education and social and economic power inevitably influences the usage of the less prestigious variety, in particular where the two varieties are closely related to each other. This is especially the case in the context of mass education primarily available and provided in the dominant variety. Influence from the colloquial forms of that variety will have inevitable influence upon the spoken forms of the less prestigious linguistic variety, particularly when there is considerable movement of individuals within the same polity and different colloquial forms are regularly accessible through various forms of mass media. The structure of Scots is affected in all contexts by many of these phenomena, in particular in relation to (Scottish) Standard English and various forms of (often external) colloquial English. Perhaps more importantly, Standard English and Scots are close relatives. In genetic terms – ignoring the effects of a variety of types of contact – the ancestors of the two varieties only separated significantly around 1,000 years ago. This means that the level of divergence between their morphological and syntactic systems is quite low. Nevertheless, there are many analytical points which can be made in relation to the morphology and syntax of those Scots dialects which do not hold for English. Most of these are shared by all Scots varieties; occasionally regional varieties realise patterns which are markedly different from those of their near and distant neighbours, however. When these assume considerable importance (particularly, perhaps, when genuine issues of comprehensibility may figure), this will be discussed in particular depth in the following. 5.2  Sources for information and analytical outlook

This chapter is based upon a range of sources (Macafee 1992 and following; Purves 2002; Miller 2003; Corbett and Kay 2009); it does not diverge greatly from any of them, although Macafee (1992 and following) is probably the most central in relation to coverage and viewpoint. This is primarily because of its attempt to be as comprehensive as possible, not only in relation to usage but also geographical location (many commentators on Scots grammar concentrate primarily – often solely – on the usage of the Central dialects; on the other hand, at least one excellent regional grammar, related to Shetland dialect, is available: Robertson and Graham 1952). Grammars intended for teaching purposes, such as Rennie (2000), need also to be considered. The approach taken here is essentially traditional; it is based primarily upon the



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 141

grammatical models developed from the insights on grammar gained by Greek and Roman philosophers and linguists during the classical period. Great strides forward have been achieved in morphosyntactic analysis through the ‘revolution’ in the conception of language and linguistics promulgated from the 1950s on; these may not be approachable for some of you, depending upon what you have previously studied. Transformational/generative insights may also occasionally obscure the categorisation so necessary for the immediate comprehension of the classes and gradations particularly central to a straightforward preliminary analysis. This observation does not in any way question the usefulness ‘theoretical’ linguistics has in providing often unexpected insights into morphosyntactic patterns; indeed, I would encourage many more scholarly investigations following these traditions to take place in relation to Scots. In this chapter, however, I have adhered to an essentially pragmatic desire for immediate comparability. 5.3  The noun phrase

Let us begin with nouns. In general, pluralisation in Scots follows the same patterns as that of Standard English; -­(e)s, therefore, is by far the most common means of expressing the plural in Scots. Like English, a few alternative patterns exist, however. In English, for instance, the plural of ox is oxen (although neither the singular nor plural of these words is particularly common in our essentially urban and mechanised world). Apart from this ‘fossil’, however, only children, itself with a complex pluralisation history, remains of this once common -­(e)n paradigm. In Scots, on the other hand, the plural of ee ‘eye’ is een. Other plural patterns, such as the use of -­r as a plural marker in words like briar ‘brows’, survive at least vestigially in traditional dialects (particularly, perhaps, in northern Scotland). In all mainstream varieties of English a pattern of pluralisation centred on a differentiation between singular and plural based upon vowel alternation (a process known by linguists as Umlaut) is possible. Thus the plural of man is men, while the plural of goose is geese. This pattern is far less common now than it was in the past and is not now productive. Scots retains at least one Umlaut plural not now present in English, however: the plural of coo ‘cow’ is kye. Although commonplace when I was a boy, this form is now largely confined to traditional dialects. The most common plural for coo in most dialects is now the analogical coos, thus aping the Standard English pattern, whether consciously or not. There is a general tendency in all varieties of English to lose (or downplay) the pronunciation ‘rule’ whereby the combination of

142

modern scots

a ­voiceless consonant followed by the voiced (and final) /-­z/ plural should result in the voicing of the first consonant. Thus moth, whose plural used to finish in /ðz/, is now unvoiced as /θs/, except in a few more conservative American pronunciations (Millar and Trask 2015: 5.1). Uncharacteristically, Scottish practice is rather more radical than the English language mainstream. Thus the plural of roof is roofs rather more often than rooves; more markedly, the plural of hoof is hoofs. Perhaps the most striking example of this phenomenon is that houses, the plural of house, has an unvoiced /s/ for the last two consonants. These features are as common, perhaps, in Scottish Standard English as in Scots; more mainstream pronunciations are also heard, however, whether due to register differences or free variation (or, of course, a combination of both). These developments can affect phonetic vowel length in Scotland due to the Vowel Length Rule, as is markedly the case between the short roofs and the long rooves, the former having the same vowel length as the singular form. Historically, the plural of some nouns in the Germanic languages were morphologically identical to the singular forms. Thus, in Old English the plural of word was word. Over the centuries, most of these nouns have developed mainstream plurals in English (and Scots), although some words, in particular perhaps those related to animals, have maintained a ‘zero plural’ (a good example of which being deer). One semantic field where zero plurality has been partly maintained in Standard English is with terms of measurement. Somebody is six foot tall; she might weigh twelve stone (although on both these occasions plural forms are also acceptable). In that dialect, however, it is not acceptable to say that someone drove for thirty mile. In non-­standard varieties, on the other hand, this usage has been maintained; this is also the case with Scots. Interestingly this tendency does not include metric units of measurement, where plurality is always openly expressed in all varieties without exception. This runs counter to the practice of other Germanic languages. It should be noted, however, that the international (metric) system is little more than 200 years old and that its adoption in the English-­speaking world is not as yet secure or nativised. It is also quite likely that the inherited norm of not marking plurality with units of weights and measures has now become essentially moribund, with any evidence for it maintained through the survival of ‘fossils’. 5.3.1 Diminutives

In relation to the form of the noun, Scots speakers appear to have a greater disposition towards adding diminutives than do English speak-



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 143

ers. The most common of these is -­ie, but others used include -­ock (-­ag in Caithness); sometimes a combination of these is possible, as with the relatively common Caithness form lassockie, ‘girl’. From personal experience, I would say that the use of diminutives is more widespread in North-­East Scotland than elsewhere. In most of Scotland these forms are generally only employed when expressing concepts of size or affection; in the North-­East it can almost seem as if the default usage is the diminutive one (thus bide in a hoosie normally only refers to living in a house; no affectionate or childlike associations need be assumed). It should be noted that some diminutive forms, such as mannie and wifie, are different in meaning from the bare form. The former implies an older man with a disposition towards ill temper (although alternatively it can be an expression of affection or even sympathy). Wifie implies a ‘woman of a certain age’; many women do not much care for being referred to using this term, although others seem to interpret its use as affectionate. 5.3.2  ‘Grammatical gender’ in Insular Scots dialects

Originally all Indo-­ European languages had grammatical gender, essentially a system of large-­scale noun class differentiation which had some relationship to natural sex divisions (although this was never as clear-­cut as was suggested to me, for instance, when learning German). Some Indo-­European languages have retained the three original genders (masculine, feminine and neuter) – German is a good example – while others have reduced the number to two (most Romance dialects, for instance, have lost the neuter gender, while Danish and Swedish have lost feminine). Some Indo-­European languages have lost the category altogether, for whatever reason: English, Afrikaans and Farsi are members of this group. While largely being expressed through the form of the noun itself or of modifiers and qualifiers such as demonstrative pronouns (we know, for instance, that German Brot ‘bread’ can only be a member of the neuter gender class because only the demonstrative pronoun das can be used with the noun in nominative – largely associated with subject – and accusative – largely associated with direct object – case contexts), in languages with traditional grammatical gender systems, however, the use of personal pronouns is also affected by grammatical gender associations. Thus, in German, the third person masculine pronoun er must be used with Mann ‘man’; this pronoun is also normal, however, for Tisch ‘table’ in the same contexts. For a native English speaker, this appears illogical. The first noun is male in natural sex

144

modern scots

and (perhaps more importantly) is animate, while the latter has no natural sex and is inanimate. The grammatical system is of greater fundamental strength than the semantic, however. While semantic non-­human and inanimate associations do lead to the semantic aspect being foregrounded, so that, for instance, a male German baby or toddler will often be called er, even though the grammatical gender of Kind ‘child’ is neuter, meaning therefore that, grammatically, es should be used, this shift cannot be expected or predicted, however. It is these issues which lead us on to the use of male and female personal pronouns for nouns with inanimate or conceptual associations in the Insular Scots dialects. In literary and spoken Insular Scots discourse, both he and she can be used in contexts which would at the very least appear aberrant in more mainstream varieties of ‘English’. Examples of this phenomenon include the following: shö’s a braa day ‘we’re having good weather’ As Ljosland (2012/13) points out, in colloquial South-­West England and Australian varieties, the use of animate pronouns in inanimate or abstract contexts appears more widespread than in ‘mainstream’ English; this is even more the case in the Insular Scots dialects. Are these, however, remnants of the Germanic grammatical gender system? In the first instance, which pronoun is used with which noun varies from place to place (and quite possibly from speaker to speaker). Moreover, as Ljosland (2012/13) demonstrates in an impressively exhaustive survey, only sometimes (and then only patchily) does the apparent natural sex of a word coincide with its grammatical gender assignment in Old Norse (or, indeed, Old English or any of the other languages whose morphological patterns might have had some effect on the Insular Scots varieties); this analysis does not even attempt to come to terms with the fact that, as we have seen, the Germanic languages that retain grammatical gender all maintain the use of neuter gender class morphology; it is in relation to the discrete identities of masculine and feminine gender classes that the pressures are felt. The idea that this unexpected phenomenon represents prima facie evidence for the survival of Old Norse grammatical categories into the present Scots dialects is likely to be ideologically driven in the main by those who, from an uncharitable viewpoint, might be said to suffer from Nornomania (Melchers 2012). The fact that patterns of this type exist in other ‘marginal’ forms of English and, indeed, have some resonances in the Standard in the optional employment of female pronouns in relation



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 145

to, for instance, ships, cars and countries, makes this assumption even more likely. 5.3.3  Adjective usage

In general, Scots adjectives behave in a similar manner morphosyntactically to their English equivalents – meanings may differ, actual adjectives used may be contrastive, but formally they remain essentially the same. A number of features mark Scots off from Standard English, however; conversely, colloquial and dialectal English may be closer to Scots than to the Standard. Primarily these differences lie in the use of comparatives and superlatives. In Standard English the inflections -­er and -­est are normally only used with adjectives of two syllables and fewer, with more or most being used with words with more than two syllables: happier but most beautiful. While these patterns are certainly present in Scots, it is quite possible to have formations such as beautifullest. ‘Double’ comparatives and superlatives, such as mair beautifuller and maist beautifullest are commonplace; there may be a sense of intensification in the duplication, although this is not always likely to be the case. 5.3.4  Articles and demonstratives

In general the ways in which Scots uses the definite and indefinite articles are essentially the same as the patterns for English. There are, however, some minor differences between the two close relatives’ usage. One of the most striking of these differences is the use of the with the names of languages. This is particularly the case with Gaelic, the Gaelic, in my experience, often being the norm with most Scottish people. In the Glasgow area it is quite commonplace to hear someone saying that they go the Gaelic ‘speak Gaelic’, probably under the influence of go a bike, to be able to ride a bicycle. The can also be used with the names of dialects, most notably the Doric, the local name for North-­East Scots. The use of the definite article for languages and dialects spoken outside Scotland is, at best, rare. Unlike English, again, the phrase I am going to the university does not necessarily refer to a particular tertiary institution. Instead it can be used in connection with any university, the act of attending being where the emphasis lies. The same associations can be made in relation to the use of definite articles with the names of other institutions, such as school. In Standard English a phrase such as here’s the faither comin noo could not refer to the speaker’s own father. In Scots it can; this is true for all family relationship terms. The use of the may sometimes give a degree

146

modern scots

of formality or respect to the expression, but this is not always the case (and may indeed depend on the speaker, listener and context as perceived by all or any of them). A similar pattern can be found with parts of the body. A phrase such as I have broken the leg, which in most varieties of English could only refer to a leg other than that of the person speaking, can refer in Scots to the limb of the person speaking. Other apparent anomalies of this sort include the use of the with a range of diseases (unlike Standard English, where the definite article is only employed with a small range of conditions, such as the flu). It is interesting to note that on many of these occasions Scots is in line with the patterns of use of several other Germanic languages. Whether this is due to the survival of earlier forms of language or is the result of pure chance is beyond the subject matter of this book. The is often used in Scots in relation to time expressions. Thus the equivalent of today is the day, tomorrow is the morn (or, in industrial western Scotland, the morra) and, along with other modifications, tomorrow night is the morn’s nicht. Less commonly heard now is thestreen, ‘yesterday evening’, which appears to have been developed from yestreen, with the same meaning. The pronunciation of the varies considerably within and between the dialects of Scots. In the West Central dialects (in particular, perhaps, the varieties spoken in the Clydeside conurbation), as we discussed in Chapter 3, the is often /rə/ in rapid connected speech; pronunciations along the lines of /sə/ are common when the article is preceded by /s/ or /z/; /v/ pronunciations are not unknown in these contexts. In Shetland the initial consonant is often /d/; in the North-­East, and in Caithness, in particular, the initial fricative is often not pronounced, in both unstressed and stressed contexts. There is less to report with the indefinite article, which is used essentially in the ways that a(n) is realised in Standard English. Most divergences are, in fact, related to form rather than function. In English a can only be used before a consonant, while an must precede a vowel. But although this pattern is regularly found in the speech of users of Scots, it is not unknown for a to be used before a vowel in both stressed and unstressed contexts. A highly stressed form is also found, often with something of the sense of ‘a single’, as in Burns’ ‘Ae fond kiss’. The pronunciation of this form varies somewhat across the Scots-­speaking world, with /je/ predominating across the West Central, Southern and Ulster areas and /e/ or even /ae/ being found elsewhere. As is the case with many non-­standard varieties of English, the Standard English two-­way split in deixis between distal (positionally or metaphorically distant) and proximal (near positioning) embodied



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 147

in that and this is equivalent to a three-­way split in Scots. The extra, hyper-­distal, category is carried by either yon or thon: Is it that hoose? Naw, it’s thon ane. In terms of form, Central and Southern Scots dialects realise plural forms of that and this – thae and thir respectively. The former is still very common, although Standard English those and non-­standard them are heard regularly even in the densest dialect. While I have heard thir, however, it appears far less common (or, indeed, current), with these being used more often. It is possible that the less frequent use of the proximal than the distal pronoun in discourse has encouraged the survival of thae in comparison with thir, although this would be difficult to prove. In Northern and Insular Scots, on the other hand, there are no overt plural forms, with this and that being used in these contexts (see, for instance, McRae 2006; Millar 2007: 69). It is my own experience that, while the discrete Central and Southern plural forms can be used in both pronominal and definer position, that is less often the case with the plural forms in Northern and Insular dialects, with the local usage being much more common in definer than pronominal contexts. This Northern usage is not always mentioned in grammars of Scots as a whole. The separate phonological patterns of the dialects are respected with these forms. In Shetland this and that have initial /d/; loss of the initial fricative is common in all other varieties, although it may be more common in the Northern dialects. 5.3.5  Personal pronouns

The personal pronouns of Scots are essentially the same as those found in English, with the usual caveats about pronunciation. In the first person singular, the subject form is often pronounced /a/; this realisation is regularly represented in writing as A or Ah, although this is not universal and may not be popular among some purveyors or consumers of the written language. The equivalent to English my is normally ma in Southern and Central dialects, while me is often found in Northern and Insular varieties. The marked Dundonian form is meh /mɛ/. While mine is often used in Scots, mines is common in expressions like this is mines. In the West of Scotland mineses, with an extra expression of possession, is regularly heard, although it may be more common in the speech of children: d’ye wannt tae come roon tae mineses? With the first person plural, we is the most prevalent subject form, although oo is still residual in some Eastern and, particularly, perhaps,

148

modern scots

Southern dialects. An object form, hiz, can be heard in stressed contexts in pockets across Scotland. I have often heard it in the speech of people from Dundee and the area around. In possessive contexts, the equivalent of our is oor (in particular in stressed contexts) or wur. Ours is universally oors. In many Central dialects in particular, it is quite normal for a relative to be referred to as Oor Jimmy. The cartoon strip Oor Wullie (discussed in Chapter 6) plays upon this connection, suggesting that everyone who reads it has become a member of Wullie’s extended family. In most dialects of Scots, the second person singular and plural slots are filled essentially by the same pronoun. You is certainly heard in Scots, but ye may be more representative. As in English, the same form is found in both subject and object contexts. The possessive pronoun is generally represented by a form which can vary in pronunciation between /jurz/ and /jirz/, with an unstressed form also being generally used. The equivalent to English your can also be pronounced using a range of vowels. As with the first person, a form yourses is also found in West Central speech. You is often used as an impersonal pronoun in preference to one. Both Orkney and in particular Shetland dialects have retained an expressly singular second person pronoun, thoo or du respectively. Object contexts are expressed by thee or dee, with possessive contexts being realised at surface level with the same form. As in many other languages, thoo and du are primarily used in intimate contexts, while ye is used in the singular in formal circumstances. The rules for what is incorporated within these distinctions have changed over the last few generations, apparently. Shetlanders born before the Second World War often report (Melchers 1985: 93–4) that they addressed their parents with the polite form, for instance, which their children most certainly do not do. The verb forms associated with the third person singular (in particular -­s) are used with these pronouns. It should be noted that these pronouns were once more prevalent geographically than they are now. They were used in living memory on the Black Isle; there were pockets of use in the nineteenth century even in the industrial West of Scotland, including in my home town, Paisley, where locals were known as Seestoos because, apparently, of their habit of saying seestoo (i.e., seest thoo), ‘do you see’. The mainstream second person plural pronoun is, as we have seen, ye/you. A number of dialects also realise yez/youse, possibly originally an importation from Irish English. Despite being regularly condemned by prescriptive grammarians and other self-­appointed custodians of the language as ‘ugly’ or ‘illogical’, this usage is spreading. In most descriptions the pronoun is said to be primarily confined to the Clydeside



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 149

conurbation. I hear it regularly in the speech of young working-­class Aberdonians; it is likely that this represents a sociolinguistic feature which has ‘leapt’ from urban area to urban area, possibly due to the covert linguistic prestige exercised by Glasgow culture and language throughout Scotland. This particular pronoun is also, of course, very useful, since it is plugging a hole: most European languages distinguish between singular and plural pronouns. Certainty of the number of people to whom reference is made is therefore generally assured (at least in relation to the distinction between one individual and more than one). In adopting youse, just as with those North American dialects which have adopted y’all, a more symmetrical system has been reinstated. Conversely, a polite or formal second person pronoun is also available in some varieties: yourself. It is possibly ultimately of Gaelic origin. At least some speakers use the third person singular -­s ending with this pronoun: has yourself been waiting long? Somewhat unexpectedly, yourself can also be used in a friendly or jocular way. As in most varieties of English, yourself is regularly found in object and prepositional phrase structures. The three third person singular pronouns essentially represent connections to natural gender connections – male, female and non-­gender specific. Naturally there are exceptions to this: young children are regularly referred to in a gender neutral way (although some parents in particular now object to this), while animals are often gendered, particularly when they live in close proximity to humans. We have already touched upon the Insular Scots’ ‘grammatical gender’ pronoun use. The masculine pronoun carries essentially the same form throughout the Scots-­speaking world: he. In Black Isle dialect /h/ was lost in all contexts; other dialects regularly have an /h/-­less form in unstressed position. The feminine form varies considerably across the area. She, equivalent to the Standard English form, is commonplace, but a form with the BUIT vowel is found regularly. In Shetland the form used is often /ʃy/, spelled shö; /ʃe/ is often heard in East Central dialects. Again, her and hers are regularly pronounced without /h/ in unstressed contexts. In Standard English, the historical /h/ is no longer normal for the gender neuter pronoun. Forms with /h/ regularly occur in stressed contexts in Scots, however (with the exception, naturally, of the Black Isle dialects). The /h/ form is regularly heard in the children’s touch and chase game Tig, where children cry ‘Tig: you’re Het!’ (although het here could be an adjective meaning ‘hot’ or ‘heated’). In Caithness, of course, the final /t/ is normally voiced. Herses ‘hers’ (that’s herses) can sometimes be heard in the speech of children; I have never come upon *hises in any context, however.

150

modern scots

Analogical to yourself discussed above, himself and herself are often used as ultra-­polite forms. These can be used directly to the referrent; more commonly, however, a person is referred to in this way when he or she is not present, but where he or she is the primary topic of conversation or thought. There may be Gaelic roots to this usage, although similar constructions can be found in other Germanic varieties. Conversely, the self pronouns can also be used in a jocular manner. A feature of the West Central dialects is that he or she can be used to refer to a person’s partner without using the person’s name. In writing, the pronoun is regularly capitalised: that’s Her comin noo: hide the beer! This capitalisation is, in a sense, also apparent in speech through sentence stress. The third person plural pronoun paradigm is essentially the same as that found in its Standard English equivalent. Thaim, the equivalent to them, is normally pronounced with /e/ rather than the lower pronunciation found with English. In unstressed contexts, the vowel is regularly reduced to /ə/, schwa. Interestingly, non-­standard them (in place of standard those) always has /ɛ/, probably demonstrating its English origin. They and demonstrative thae (in those dialects where the latter is found) are homophones (indeed some writers, such as Irvine Welsh, use the former’s spelling when implying the latter). Of course the semantic fields of the two words do overlap considerably; it is really only outside subject contexts that a near-­absolute distinction can be made between the two pronouns, since thae is used in object contexts (although even here the distinction is muddied by the presence of the them demonstrative form). In first and second person contexts in particular, the possessive form of the pronoun is realised in positions where it would not be normal in Standard English (although many users of Scottish Standard English regularly employ the usage). This can s­ ometimes cause m ­ isunderstanding. For instance, ‘That’s me away tae ma bed’ does not necessarily imply that the person being spoken to will sleep in another bed. Equally, ‘Whit dae ye wannt fur yer tea?’ does not mean that the speaker intends to eat something different for his or her evening meal. Conversely, as we have seen, the is sometimes used in Scots where Scottish Standard English would expect the use of a pronoun.



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 151

5.3.6  Interrogative and relative pronouns

In literary Scots, the paradigm of the interrogative and relative pronouns is often given as wha (subject – persons and some other animate beings), whit (subject – non-­human, inanimate and conceptual entities), wham (object – persons and some other animate beings), whilk (object – non-­human, inanimate and conceptual entities) and whase (possessive), with local pronunciations of being borne in mind. In fact, the paradigm as given here could be analysed as either archaic (something like this paradigm was the norm in written Middle Scots) or heavily under the influence of the Standard English paradigm (whose forms may be dominant in the minds of many writers of Scots). It is fair to say, in fact, that forms are practically excluded from spoken Scots relative usage and are essentially confined to interrogative use, with the exception of whase. In either case, whilk is practically moribund. How all this leaves Burns’ great ‘Scottish Marseillaise’ ‘Scots wha hae’ is, thankfully, outside the remit of this book. Scots generally uses two means of expressing relativisation. The first of these is the use of that – regularly at in most dialects – in both non-­ finite and finite contexts. When expressing possession, the form at’s is common: at’s the lad at’s mither’s deid ‘that’s the boy whose mother is dead’ (in literary Scots this clause would probably be rendered that’s the lad whase mither’s deid). The other means of expressing relativisation is through the use of a zero pronouns, where we assume that a pronoun, necessary for our understanding of the syntax of the structure, is there, but not openly expressed: the men we saw yestreen hes lowpit ower the dyke. This is, of course, a structure shared with Standard English. It is common in the North Germanic languages and Finnish, but is unknown in either English’s close West Germanic relatives or the Romance languages. Scots, along with a number of non-­standard English dialects, goes further, however. While in Standard English, zero relative clauses are confined to the modification of the subject of a clause, Scots can be used to modify the object of a clause, for instance: The man bed doun oor close tellt me tae say he wes askin efter ye ‘The man who lived down our close [the internal passageway in a tenement] told me to say that he was asking after your health.’

152

modern scots

5.4  Verb system 5.4.1  Marking verb number

As we have come to expect, the ways in which the Scots dialects lay out their verb systems are very similar to those realised by both Standard English and almost all non-­standard varieties of that language. As we have also regularly noted, such similarities are at their most noteworthy from a global perspective. From a less exalted position, differences may be all too apparent. In relation to present tense inflections, a similar pattern is evinced to that found in Standard English. As predicted, the primary inflection which marks off parts of the paradigm from others is -­s. In Standard English this ending is confined to third person singular contexts (with the exception of the narrative ‘past tense’ found in discourse along the lines of: I walks into a pub and I says to the barman . . .). In Scots, however, the motivation behind the distribution is rather more complex. In those areas which have retained a second person singular pronoun (nowadays essentially the Northern Isles) this pronoun also triggers the -­s ending. There appears to be not even vestigial use of the old second person singular -­st ending remains in these dialects, although evidence on the Scottish mainland suggests that this ending was preserved into the twentieth century (a point confirmed to me by an elderly female informant from Cromarty on the Black Isle whom I interviewed in 2005: quite unselfconsciously she included the ending in an example of the speech of the fishing community before the First World War). The -­s ending is also often used in the plural, operating within the constraints of a phenomenon not found in most of the English dialects, with the exception of those spoken in the North-­East of England: the Northern Subject Concord Rule. -­s is never used in plural contexts when the subject is a bare pronoun. It is rare to the point of unusual with a simple subject, such as the men. It is common, however, in those contexts where the subject is complex through post-­modification by a noun phrase or, in particular, a relative clause: the men we saw walkin doon the road wes lachin. The rule seems to act largely below the level of consciousness; very few speakers (although rather more writers) appear to be sensitised to it. I am aware that I often produce Northern subject concord forms when I am writing at length and, in particular, in haste. Naturally, most of these comments hold true for the past tense forms of the verb be, was and were. Equally naturally, the influence of the Standard English inflectional system encourages considerable morphological variation in all these contexts.



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 153

5.4.2 Tense

As in English, there are essentially three ways in which past tense can be marked on a verb. The first involves a change in stem vowel (the ‘strong verbs’) between present and past. Thus the past tense of ring is, in theory at least, rang in both languages. There is, however, a tendency in Scots to use the vowel of the past participle instead of the past tense in these contexts, when they are different, such as he run doon the road. This opposite pattern, of past tense form being used in past participial contexts, is also regularly heard – he hes ran doon the road. These processes are regularly to be found in non-­standard forms of English. The process will be discussed further below. Within living memory some verbs, such as the equivalent of English laugh, marked tense by vowel alternation for some speakers. Conversely, while the past tense of English give is ‘strong’, the past of Scots gie is gied. The second group of verbs express past tense through the addition of a dental suffix to the stem (sometimes termed the weak verbs). In English this suffix is voiced /d/ after a voiced sound, as with he barged through the crowd, but unvoiced /t/ before a voiceless sound, such as, he slept until midday. Scots has a similar, but considerably more complex, system. As in Standard English, /d/ is found after a stressed vowel, such as leed ‘lied’. In southern Scotland, it is possible to hear kennd ‘knew’ – /d/ is sometimes realised, as Macafee (1992 and following) points out, after nasals, /r/ and /l/. In Caithness, /d/ is the norm in all contexts. Elsewhere, however, /t/ is found after unstressed vowels and plosives, as with wanntit ‘wanted’ and pykit ‘picked’. While the -­it ending is still widespread, it is beginning to be replaced with a nonsyllablic /t/ (or /d/) in many positions. It survives better in literary Scots than in spoken, perhaps, in particular when used with fricatives, as in biggit ‘built’. Nonsyllablic /t/ is also found in Scots after nasals, /r/ and /l/, as with killt, as well as after voiceless fricatives. English also has a number of verbs with irregular past tenses. These include think/thought, bring/brought, the verb be and a series of verbs whose past tense is actually derived from the paradigm of another verb, such as go/went. Scots maintains essentially the same set, but with some relatively small-­scale exceptions. The past tense of gae/gang is often gaed, particularly in traditional dialects, for instance. The past tenses of sell and tell are almost universally selt and telt in Scots. The past tense of kneel is often kneeled; less obvious are the past tenses of hear and say, where the vowel is often /e/ for the latter (and in the case of the former verb, in some dialects, /i/). On the other hand, the past tense of bring, in theory brocht, is often brung, particularly in urban varieties, due to the

154

modern scots

influence of the paradigm of ring. A number of verbs which are irregular in Standard English are regular in Scots. The most common example of this is, perhaps, the past tense of catch, remodelled after thought and brought as caught in Standard English, but regularly still catchit in Scots. In English there is an ongoing tendency for past tense and past participle forms of a verb to merge. In non-­standard varieties of English, this conflation has advanced rather further than in the Standard. It is quite normal to hear individuals from anywhere in the English-­speaking world saying I have went or I done it. These conflations are also common in Scotland. Generally (and it has to be said somewhat illogically), this process is frowned upon by language arbiters (who are normally self-­appointed) not only as being ‘ungrammatical’ but also ‘slovenly’ and essentially presaging the arrival of the barbarians at the gates, etc. In Scotland there is an added complication fed by what might in less charitable terms be defined as double standards. My mother, for instance, criticised me vociferously if I said I done it rather than I did it, classifying what I had said as ‘bad English’; if, on the other hand, I said A taen it ‘I took it’ (literally, ‘I taken it’) this would have been praised as ‘guid Scots’. Taen is joined by a small number of past participles which are markedly different from their Standard English equivalents. Most common of this is pitten ‘put’, but also widespread is hurtit ‘hurt’. The present participle is universally -­in (although -­ing pronunciations, derived from Standard English reading pronunciations, are regularly heard in even the densest dialect speech). In most dialects of Scots there is no distinction in pronunciation between the present participle and the verbal noun. This distinction is maintained, however, in a number of ‘peripheral’ dialects, in particular in pockets in southern Scotland as well as in Caithness. This distribution would suggest, as is indeed supported by historical witness, that the distinction was ­previously widespread but has now retreated into relict areas. 5.4.3  Differences between the English and Scots verb systems

Like Standard English, Scots explicitly expresses the progressive aspect through the use of the verb be and the present participle in both present and past tense contexts. In this the two Germanic varieties are marked off from their sister languages, such as German or Danish. Thus in Scots a distinction can be made semantically between A wes rinnan doon the road and A ran doon the road; on this occasion, the first example concentrates on the ongoing nature of the process, while the latter focuses on the action’s completion. In English progressive structure can only really be employed with



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 155

stative verbs in constructions such as I was thinking that tomorrow would be a good day for a sail, particularly if the act described took place in the past. An interpretation referring to thinking as an ongoing process at a particular time is possible, implying that the thought process was ongoing but substantial. This interpretation would be much rarer in most English varieties, but commonplace in Scots (and Scottish Standard English). The use of I am thinking in this context would be borderline ungrammatical in English; in Scots it is regular. The same is true for a number of other verbs of this type. Some commentators believe that the origin of this feature lies in similar Gaelic structures (for a discussion of recent research, see Hallström 2012). Several smaller-­scale features can be found with the Scots verb, many of which are ably dealt with by Macafee (1992 and following). A relatively small number of these features, either the most common or the most marked, must suffice here. In relation to the verb be, essentially the same paradigm is found for Scots as for Standard English, with the inevitable proviso that different pronunciations are prevalent (as with was and wes). In west central Scotland, however, the forms mur ‘I am’ and, in particular, murny ‘I am not’ are commonplace. I associate them in particular with children’s arguments (often produced by adults as well, of course) which end with couplets along the lines of ‘Mur’ ‘Murny’. In most varieties of English, the combination be + past participle is largely confined to passive constructions along the lines of I was carried along the street. In the Insular Scots dialects, however, this be perfective can be used in a great many more contexts. In Shetland in particular a construction along the lines of I’m worked here dis twinty year is common; from personal experience, I can say that its use can be disconcerting for speakers of dialects without this construction. Some scholars (for instance, Pavlenko 1997) have claimed that the origins of this usage lie in transfer from Norn, the North Germanic dialect spoken in the islands until the eighteenth century; this seems unlikely, however (Ljosland 2017). Indeed the be perfective, while not common elsewhere, does turn up in pockets in a range of North American regions (see Yerastov 2011). In general, the present and past participles are used in a similar manner in English and Scots. There are occasional differences, however, in particular in relation to what might be analysed as discourse features. In Standard English the phrase this needs washing is normal under most circumstances; in both Scots and Scottish Standard English this is considered abnormal; the preferred construction is this needs washed (see, for instance, Edelstein 2014). Most Scots appear unaware that this construction is overwhelmingly only Scottish. In West Central

156

modern scots

dialects -­ing can be used in constructions of the type he’s a big boy gettin, meaning something along the lines of ‘he is growing’. The position of the participle is highly marked within an ‘English’ framework. 5.4.4  Modal verbs

While most modal verbs are used in the same ways in Scots as they are in English, this is not always the case. In both Scots and Scottish Standard English, for instance, must is not usually employed when logical necessity is being inferred. Thus mainstream English I must go to London tomorrow would generally be avoided by Scottish speakers, who would prefer something along the lines of I’ll have to go to London tomorrow (both usages are, of course, possible in all varieties of English; it is the regularity of use which differs). Generally it is ‘semi-­modals’, such as have to, have got to or will have to which are used in the place of must. Other mainstream usages of must are normal for Scots, however. The specifically Scots modal maun fits the same semantic roles and usage patterns as must. This verb is, from personal experience, certainly alive in the speech of older members of the community, although it is, perhaps, used most in proverbial expressions such as man maun dree his weird ‘it is necessary to accept (and endure) your fate’. At least in prescriptive written norms, most Standard English varieties prescribe shall for use in the first person when expressing future time reference, while will can only normally be employed with the second and third persons. The reason for this distinction lies far back in the history of the language. In origin, shall expressed obligation in a similar manner to the ways must does now. Will, on the other hand, expressed volition, a desire or want. Traces of these original meanings are retained (for a discussion, see, for instance, Wekker 1976). At some level, therefore, it is considered rude – or at least inappropriate – to use an expression of obligation in relation to other people, while volition might be taken to express lack of commitment in the first person. The actual distribution of these forms in speech is somewhat different, with many speakers regularly employing will in first person contexts; this pattern regularly appears in the written form, particularly, perhaps, when used by English speakers from North America. There is still a strong prescriptive urge among some speakers of the language, however. In Scotland, shall is hardly used at all in any context and is rarely found in this first person role, with will being used in both written and spoken contexts without any criticism from ‘protectors’ of the language. I do notice, however, that some of my students of Scottish origin employ shall in their writing in positions – such as with second and third person reference – where



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 157

it would be highly marked in any variety of English. I suspect that this is due to their being exposed to non-­Scottish language models in any depth for the first time on entering university and overcompensating (what sociolinguists term hypercorrection) for their presumed ‘incorrect’ usage. As Macafee (1992 and following) points out, will can sometimes be used as an expression of politeness (or indirectness) in relation to other people, along the lines of ‘and this will be your brother?’.The specifically Scots modal sall, essentially equivalent to shall, is now rarely heard, although it is common in writing, under the influence of earlier literary models. It can, however, be heard in enclitic constructions such as I’se see him the morn, although this is perhaps more common in traditional Northern dialects than elsewhere (and even there it might be said to be more prevalent in the speech of older people). Probably as part of the same distinction, should is rarely, if ever, heard in Scotland in relation to obligation. A construction along the lines of we should like to thank Mr Smith for his help, expressing a sense of ‘it is necessary that we thank’, normal, perhaps even obligatory, in many varieties of English, would sound odd, perhaps even comic, in both Scots and Scottish Standard English: the interpretation ‘it might be considered necessary to thank Mr Smith, but we are not going to bother’ is the first which springs to mind. Would is generally considered normal in first person contexts. The Scots equivalent to should – suid – is primarily now a literary usage. May is not regularly used in Scotland, in particular not when expressing politeness in a request. Where the prescriptive norm elsewhere would be to use may (rather than can) in ‘May I sit here?’, most Scottish people would prefer could when expressing extra politeness (and can is quite acceptable in these contexts). A number of dialects of central and southern Scotland, as well as Ulster Scots, contain what are normally termed double modals. This is a feature also found – within English – in some of the Northern English dialects and in the speech of the Appalachian region of the United States (it also occurs in the speech of individuals and groups in pockets elsewhere). In my own experience, the most common constructions of this type are of the type A’ll kin see him the morn ‘I’ll be able to see him tomorrow’ and A’d kid see him the morn ‘I’d be able to see him tomorrow’, although other constructions do occur and may be more prevalent in other areas (for a discussion, see Bour 2015 and forthcoming). It may be significant that the contraction of at least one of the modals appears commonplace. As is the case with many features of this type, it is regularly to be heard both in the Scottish Standard English of Scots speakers and of those who rarely if ever use Scots. It therefore could be said to be somewhat below the level of most speakers’ consciousness. This view

158

modern scots

could be contested, however, by my impression that it is rarely, if ever, employed in writing, except when the use is self-­conscious. 5.4.5 Negation

Clitic negation – negation shown on the verb – is largely realised with the suffix -­na, which has a range of pronunciations depending on place. In general this suffix is nowadays used primarily with modal verbs as well as very common verbs often used as auxiliaries, such as be and have. In the recent past other verbs could be employed with this construction, however. These can still sometimes be heard in more traditional varieties, such as Shetland dialect, although even here this may be more common among older speakers. Remnants of this older usage can also be found in constructions such as daurna ‘daren’t’, although these may be somewhat fossilised. In North-­East dialects it is common to hear constructions along the lines of A na ken ‘I don’t know’. There is considerable debate over the origin of this construction (see, for instance, Smith 2000); in my experience, it appears to be spreading, particularly in urban working-­class environments. The equivalent of English not is generally no, with nae being used in North-­East dialects. Although the Scots forms are generally used in a similar way to their English equivalents, the position of the negator may differ significantly. In Standard English, the construction I won’t do it is mainstream; in Scots, however, the clitic form adheres generally to the subject, with the negator remaining independent: A’ll nae dee it. This latter construction is probably considerably more common in Scottish Standard English (I’ll not do it) than the more mainstream English equivalent. 5.5 Conclusion

As stated at the beginning of this chapter, the structural differences between Scots and Standard English are often more subtle than is the case with, for instance, phonology. Perhaps because of a close shared ancestry, perhaps because of ongoing influence from the prestige variety upon the dialectalised one, there is rarely an absolute difference present in structural contexts. That does not mean, however, that some of the distinctions we have seen do not cause issues of comprehension on both sides of a linguistic divide, no matter how apparently compromised. Because most of these structural distinctions exist below the level of complete consciousness, moreover, they may be more likely to survive within the framework of Scottish Standard English than are features



structure : the gr ammar of modern scots 159

which attract some degree of focus from native speakers and authority figures. Users, in both speech and writing, may genuinely be unaware that they are employing constructions that are not commonly used in the rest of the English-­speaking world. It is entirely possible that this apparent lack of awareness may perpetuate distinctive usage. Exercises

1. You are a Primary School teacher. One of your pupils, an eight-­year-­ old boy from a rural background, writes I tane instead of I took. How do you react to this, both as a teacher and a linguist? 2. Decide on one major Scots structural feature which differs markedly from the same category or feature in Standard English. Over the course of a day, make notes of when and where you (or people you are observing) use this feature. What do your observations tell you about the use of specifically Scots grammar, even in speech? If you are based outside the Scots-­speaking world, see what information you can derive from corpora and web-­based resources. 3. Choose the work of an author who writes in Scots (whether wholly or as part of a largely English narrative). Identify the structural features used by the author which coincide with features discussed in this chapter. Do you think this represents a fair approximation of what happens in spoken Scots?

6  Scots used creatively: literature and beyond1

6.1 Introduction

In terms of reputation in world literature, Scotland punches well above its weight. Figures such as Robert Burns, Sir Walter Scott, Robert Louis Stevenson and Muriel Spark are world-­renowned, their work translated into a range of languages and read by an audience who may not have a full grasp of where and what Scotland is (I cannot be the only person who has winced when hearing Hugh MacDiarmid referred to as an ‘English poet’). From my own experience I can say that Robert Burns has touched lives lived well beyond Europe in ways that few other writers have done. With at least some Scottish writers, the language used has played a profound part in the attraction of the work – poetry, prose and drama – produced by Scottish writers over the last 200 years or so. It should be noted from the outset, however, that many of the most celebrated Scottish writers – Muriel Spark is a particularly good example of this – rarely use Scots in their work; if they do, this tends to act as a patina of local colouring rather than as a central part of the novel’s essence. To some extent this may be due to an author’s coming from a middle-­class urban background, although writers like William McIlvanney and Alan Spence, both from working-­class backgrounds, also use a rather limited amounts of Scots in their work, even in dialogue. This issue is compounded, of course, in those circumstances where, absolutely legitimately, Scottish writers place the action of their writing outside of Scotland. 6.2  Scots in an English prose context

This book is concerned with Modern Scots. Nevertheless, in order to have a sense of the norms in relation to the use of Scots in Scottish literature, we need to look back at least until the second-­half of the eighteenth century to establish what has formed present practice. 160



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 161

Let us consider in the first instance the use of Scots in fictional prose. The first major writer to use the language in a novel was Sir Walter Scott (1771–1832). Scott had an ear for language (perhaps aided by the fact that he began his career as a poet rather than a novelist; see Tulloch 1980); he was also heavily committed to Scottish vernacular culture. Unusually for a man of his urban, upper-­middle-­class, background, he was also a native speaker of Scots. The following passage is from the novella The Black Dwarf, published in 1816 (Scott [1816] 2000: 29–31): It was a fine April morning (excepting that it had snowed hard the night before, and the ground remained covered with a dazzling mantle of six inches in depth) when two horsemen rode up to the Wallace Inn. The first was a strong, tall, powerful man, in a grey riding-­coat, having a hat covered with waxcloth, a huge silver-­mounted horsewhip, boots, and dreadnought overalls. He was mounted on a large strong brown mare, rough in coat, but well in condition, with a saddle of the yeomanry cut, and a double-­bitted military bridle. The man who accompanied him was apparently his servant; he rode a shaggy little grey pony, had a blue bonnet on his head, and a large check napkin folded about his neck, wore a pair of long blue worsted hose instead of boots, had his gloveless hands much stained with tar, and observed an air of deference and respect towards his companion, but without any of those indications of precedence and punctilio which are preserved between the gentry and their domestics. On the contrary, the two travellers entered the court-­yard abreast, and the concluding sentence of the conversation which had been carrying on betwixt them was a joint ejaculation, “Lord guide us, an this weather last, what will come o’ the lambs!” The hint was sufficient for my Landlord, who, advancing to take the horse of the principal person, and holding him by the reins as he dismounted, while his ostler rendered the same service to the attendant, welcomed the stranger to Gandercleugh, and, in the same breath, enquired, “What news from the south hielands?”   “News?” said the farmer, “bad eneugh news, I think;—an we can carry through the yowes, it will be a’ we can do; we maun e’en leave the lambs to the Black Dwarf’s care.”   “Ay, ay,” subjoined the old shepherd (for such he was), shaking his head, “he’ll be unco busy amang the morts this season.”   “The Black Dwarf!” said MY LEARNED FRIEND AND PATRON, Mr. Jedediah Cleishbotham, “and what sort of a personage may he be?”   “Hout awa, man,” answered the farmer, “ye’ll hae heard o’ Canny Elshie the Black Dwarf, or I am muckle mistaen—A’ the warld tells tales about him, but it’s but daft nonsense after a’—I dinna believe a word o’t frae beginning to end.”

162

modern scots

  “Your father believed it unco stievely, though,” said the old man, to whom the scepticism of his master gave obvious displeasure.   “Ay, very true, Bauldie, but that was in the time o’ the blackfaces— they believed a hantle queer things in thae days, that naebody heeds since the lang sheep cam in.”   “The mair’s the pity, the mair’s the pity,” said the old man. “Your father, and sae I have aften tell’d ye, maister, wad hae been sair vexed to hae seen the auld peel-­house wa’s pu’d down to make park dykes; and the bonny broomy knowe, where he liked sae weel to sit at e’en, wi’ his plaid about him, and look at the kye as they cam down the loaning, ill wad he hae liked to hae seen that braw sunny knowe a’ riven out wi’ the pleugh in the fashion it is at this day.”   “Hout, Bauldie,” replied the principal, “tak ye that dram the landlord’s offering ye, and never fash your head about the changes o’ the warld, sae lang as ye’re blithe and bien yoursell.”

The first noteworthy linguistic issue in the passage is that Scott uses Scots only in dialogue, never in narrative. Two interpretations can be made of this. According to the first, Scott saw English as a language of authority; Scots was illustrative and ancillary. According to the second interpretation, however, the main spur for the distribution of Scott’s language use was economic: Scott wrote to make a living. As would also be the case today, a novel written in English is much more likely to attract a mass audience than one written in Scots. Indeed, Scott’s work was extremely popular elsewhere in the English-­speaking world. It could be argued that narrative adds to the ‘flavour’ of a piece of writing rather than being fully necessary to its narrative thrust. It would be quite possible for someone not to understand some of the conversation involved, and still follow the story. Evidence for this can be seen in the fact that cognates in the two languages (mak and make, for instance) are represented largely, although not wholly, by the English form. More sociolinguistically damaging, however, is the use of apostrophes to mark those features which are ‘aberrant’ in Scots in comparison to English, such as for the English equivalent . Scott did not invent this practice – they predate the writing of Burns; both writers helped, through their fame, to popularise the system (if it can be termed such: see Chapter 7), however. This pattern certainly aids comprehension for non-­native speakers, since it encourages them to consider what English cognates could replace the Scots words; however, it has the unfortunate side effect of making Scots appear to be a corruption of English.2 The level of ‘denseness’ of Scots used by the different characters



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 163

is also revealing. The old shepherd uses rather more Scots words and phrases than does the farmer; no Scots features are observable at all in the speech of Cleishbotham. The suggestion seems to be being made that class implies use of these features: the lower down the social scale you were placed, the more likely you were to speak ‘broad’ Scots. This sociolinguistic pattern had only really begun to come into being at the time The Black Dwarf was written, so we might claim that there is an element of wish-­fulfilment on the part of the middle-­class audience to whom, we assume, Scott is catering (if you are interested in these issues, you might wish to read my 2004 essay). No matter what, Scots is associated implicitly with a past way of life connected to superstition (although it is in the nature of Scott’s own ambivalent relationship to the Scottish past that it turns out that there is a Black Dwarf!) A rather different method of using the vernacular can be found in the following passage from Annals of the Parish (1821), written by Scott’s slightly younger contemporary, John Galt (1779–1839), referring to enlistment in the British army in the early stages of the American War of Independence (Galt [1821] 2002: 64): The listing was a catching distemper. Before the summer was over, the other three of the farming lads went off with the drum, and there was a wailing in the parish, which made me preach a touching discourse. I likened the parish to a widow woman with a small family, sitting in her cottage by the fireside, herself spinning with an eident wheel, ettling her best to get them a bit and a brat, and the poor weans all canty about the hearthstane—the little ones at their playocks, and the elder at their tasks—the callans working with hooks and lines to catch them a meal of fish in the morning—and the lassies working stockings to sell at the next Marymas fair.—And then I likened war to a calamity coming among them—the callans drowned at their fishing—the lassies led to a misdoing—and the feckless wee bairns laid on the bed of sickness, and their poor forlorn mother sitting by herself at the embers of a cauldrife fire; her tow done, and no a bodle to buy more; drooping a silent and salt tear for her babies, and thinking of days that war gone, and, like Rachel weeping for her children, she would not be comforted. With this I concluded, for my own heart filled full with the thought, and there was a deep sob in the Church; verily it was Rachel weeping for her children.

The extract presents a different way of using Scots in fiction. Here we have an elderly man (Mr Balwhidder, a Church of Scotland ­minister) recounting his past experiences from the viewpoint of the near present in relation to the time of publication. Scots words and phrases are interwoven with English, the latter often in a form profoundly influenced by the cadences and lexical choices of the 1611 English

164

modern scots

Bible. We know that this was quite common in personal writings of this time (indeed Scott’s own diary is much more ‘Scots’ than were those writings he intended to be published in his lifetime, as were many of the manuscripts of his novels before being ‘translated’ by his publishers; I am grateful to Alison Lumsden for a most helpful discussion on this matter); the age of the narrator must be borne in mind, however. Again we could interpret his usage as representing a past age, when, in effect, middle-­class people spoke Scots but wrote English within an essentially diglossic environment (see Chapter 7 for further discussion). Moving forward considerably in time, the following is an excerpt from Sunset Song ([1932] 1988), by Lewis Grassic Gibbon (James Leslie Mitchell, 1901–35), set in Mitchell’s cauf kintra of the Howe o the Mearns, near where I live. A rather different use of the vernacular can be found here (Gibbon [1932] 1988: 32): So that was Chris and her reading and schooling, two Chrisses there were that fought for her heart and tormented her. You hated the land and the coarse speak of the folk and learning was brave and fine one day and the next you’d waken with the pewits crying across the hills, deep and deep, crying in the heart of you and the smell of the earth in your face, almost you’d cry for that, the beauty of it and the sweetness of the Scottish land and skies. You saw their faces in firelight, father’s and mother’s and the neighbours’, before the lamps lit up, tired and kind, faces dear and close to you, you wanted the words they’d known and used, forgotten in the far-­off youngness of their lives, Scots words to tell to your heart, how they wrung it and held it, the toil of their days and unendingly their fight. And the next minute that passed from you, you were English, back to the English words so sharp and clean and true—for a while, for a while, till they slid so smooth from your throat you knew they could never say anything that was worth the saying at all.

This final excerpt represents something of a departure from the usage of the first two. It is quite possible to read Sunset Song without knowing any Scots at all. Under those circumstances you would probably appreciate the heightened quality of the rather poetic prose as a creation in itself. There is, in my opinion at least, more to it than that. To a native Scots speaker, the use of ‘heightened’ words such as brave in this excerpt may actually appear an attempt to subvert the boundaries between the two varieties by using an (assumed) English equivalent while thinking the Scots braw. After a while, the ‘two voices’ become fused into one unique whole. It is, of course, dangerous to generalise from relatively limited evi-



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 165

dence such as this in relation to the status of Scots as a whole; our findings are indicative, however. It could be argued that, in Scotland since at least the beginning of the nineteenth century, English has been seen as the default literary language, with Scots giving something like ‘local colour’. This viewpoint is prevalent even among those who regularly speak nothing else but Scots. Naturally, this is not the product of one, or even many, author’s language use. But the language attitudes which produced the use must have been common throughout the society for which the work acts as a (partial) mirror. These attitudes were (and are) passed on by opinion-­forming elements, such as educators and other figures of authority, within the Scottish community, whether consciously or not. The Scott model for the use of written Scots has undoubtedly remained the primary way in which the language has been and is used in imaginative prose, as can be seen in the following passage from The Little Minister (1895) by J. M. Barrie (1860–1937), a novel which, among other things, is concerned with a love affair between a religious minister (of limited height, hence the book’s title) and an ‘Egyptian’, in other words Romani, woman (Barrie [1891] 2008: 124): Margaret having heard the doctor say that one may catch cold in the back, had decided instantly to line Gavin’s waistcoat with flannel. She was thus engaged, with pins in her mouth and the scissors hiding from her every time she wanted them, when Jean, red and flurried, abruptly entered the room.   ‘There! I forgot to knock at the door again,’ Jean exclaimed, pausing contritely.   ‘Never mind. Is it Rob Dow wanting the minister?’ asked Margaret, who had seen Rob pass the manse dyke.   ‘Na, he wasna wanting to see the minister.’   ‘Ah, then, he came to see you, Jean,’ said Margaret, archly.   ‘A widow man!’ cried Jean, tossing her head. ‘But Rob Dow was in no condition to be friendly wi’ onybody the now.’   ‘Jean, you don’t mean that he has been drinking again?’   ‘I canna say he was drunk.’   ‘Then what condition was he in?’   ‘He was in a—a swearing condition,’ Jean answered, guardedly.   ‘But what I want to speir at you is, can I gang down to the Tenements for a minute? I’ll run there and back.’   ‘Certainly you can go, Jean, but you must not run. You are always running. Did Dow bring you word that you were wanted in the Tenements?’

166

modern scots

  ‘No exactly, but I—I want to consult Tammas Haggart about—about something.’   ‘About Dow, I believe, Jean?’   ‘Na, but about something he has done. Oh, ma’am, you surely dinna think I would take a widow man?’

What is immediately apparent from this passage is that the separation between Scots in dialogue and Standard English in narrative is essentially maintained in the way it was canonised in Scott. Moreover, the Scots is noticeably ‘broader’ in the speech of working-­class (and comic, perhaps even unintelligent) characters. These features are tied up with the sentimental and rural stylisation and idealisation of Scottish life developed in the later part of the nineteenth century, generally termed kailyard ‘cabbage patch’. Barrie was the most distinguished and certainly the best-­known member of the Kailyard school. He was also probably a native speaker of Scots (although his family, while working class, was extremely aspirational and it may be that loss of native language was seen as part of the ‘devil’s compact’ by which a middle-­class lifestyle was obtained). At the very least, however, exposure to the native Scots of Kirriemuir, a small town in rural Angus, must have been an everyday experience for Barrie while growing up (for a discussion, see Birkin 2003 and Chaney 2005). Because of the fame and influence of Scott and his successors, because of the crossover to popular forms of literature achieved by writers like Barrie (writing, of course, in a period when mass literacy was becoming the norm and a periodical press involving the publication of serialised fiction was regularly read throughout Scotland and beyond), this is the means of representing Scots found in most writing today (including that written by people who are not only not Scots speakers but also not from Scotland). Most Scottish prose writing which includes the use of Scots is not, of course, specifically intended to be ‘art’. Indeed, the best-­selling work – both in Scotland and elsewhere – tends to be rather more popular in nature, often with an historical slant. Probably the most read – and arguably the best – writer in this school (if it can be termed such) was Nigel Tranter (1909–2000). Although not a professional historian, Tranter prided himself on adherence to the historical record (as understood at that point) as much as possible. Although he may not have been a Scots speaker himself, he certainly had a feel for the language and employed it regularly – albeit sparingly – in his work, when appropriate (some elements of this are treated, albeit in a fairly uncritical manner, in Bradfield



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 167

1999). In a number of ways his work is a linear descendant of that of Scott, although not with the same ability in literary craft. Tranter was a prolific writer, both in fiction and non-­fiction (his publications include a range of non-­fiction historical studies intended for a more informed audience); his fiction ranges across Scottish history from the time of Macbeth to the Great Rebellion of 1745–6. From these I have chosen to consider the language use of The Wisest Fool (1974), primarily because its subject matter has similar inspirations as an ‘art’ drama also considered in this chapter. The novel is set in the period between 1603 and 1611, as James VI gradually establishes his rule over England. Although not the narrator, most of the action takes place as experienced by George Heriot, a middle-­class jeweller and ‘usurer’ based originally in Edinburgh, making the same migration south as James, for whom he acts as banker and adviser. Scots – normally not particularly dense – is occasionally used in the dialogue of the novel; a few words are also found in the narrative, often in Heriot’s interior monologues, where words and phrases such as bairn ‘child’ and donnert auld fool ‘senile old fool’ are used. In relation to dialogue, however, not all Scottish characters use Scots regularly. James VI does so as the norm, apparently not accommodating at all to the speech of his new English subjects. Although James himself had only reached middle age at the time, his language use appears to be allied to that of significantly older characters, such as the dowager Countess of Mar – an elderly woman – who speaks a relatively thin Scots. Her son, the Earl of Mar, also speaks Scots; he is not much older than James. She is portrayed as bloody-­minded, but essentially loyal to the Stewart dynasty; her son is portrayed as an oaf whose loyalties are more questionable. Other ‘gentry’ Scots speakers are either elderly or, potentially, corrupt. Lord Scone, Comptroller of the Privy Purse and an old crony of the King, is a Scots speaker, as is the Lord Advocate, a comic and venial character. Sir Peter Young, an elderly judge, also speaks the language, in a sense demonstrating the stereotype of the pawkie or couthie Scot perceived as a truth speaker. Similar features can be found with the speech of Andrew Melville, Presbyterian divine and Principal of the University of St Andrews, although I suspect here that the ‘truth speaking’ trope merges into the representation of ignorance and fanaticism. Perhaps most interesting is the use of Scots by Patrick Stewart, Earl of Orkney, and cousin to the King. Patrick, however, is portrayed as being old-­fashioned in dress, and surrounded by a half savage ‘Celtic’ retinue. His sister speaks only English. Interestingly, Anne, James’ Danish Queen, speaks only Standard English, despite having essentially learned ‘English’ during her extended stay in Scotland.

168

modern scots

There are occasional instances of Scots vocabulary in the speech of other characters, although they primarily use Standard English. Alison Primrose, for instance, a sympathetic character who is amongst the youngest in the book and, eventually, George Heriot’s wife, occasionally uses words like lochan ‘small loch’ and houghmagandie ‘(enthusiastic recreational) sex’, but it is striking that one of these is a descriptive geographical feature, while the second refers to a slightly risqué topic. She is the daughter of a laird, albeit one of limited property and funds. The only Scots speaker, outside the main characters, is Heriot’s servant. What we have in this novel, therefore, is in many ways the classical means by which Scots is employed in literary fiction – Scots is the language of the old, the outmoded and the socially inferior. Naturally, this does not reflect actual language use in the early seventeenth century. More interesting authorly intentions are at work, however. James, for instance, is undoubtedly the cleverest and most aware of all the characters in the play, even if he is also maddeningly capricious. At the beginning of the novel he seems to be a fool, as the title suggests; this appears to be expressed through his use of ‘uncouth’ dialect. As the novel progresses, however, his considerable (and sometimes unsettling) wit is demonstrated through his linguistic separation from the rest of the characters based in England. As king, no matter where, he represents a person apart. Of course all of these patterns are characteristic of clichéd representation of Scots; the ways in which these tropes are deployed, however, are nonetheless impressively nuanced. 6.3  Scottish prose wholly in Scots

In the previous sections we considered the use of Scots in prose in contexts dominated by the English language. This remains the norm in most literature produced in Scotland. In the last thirty years or so a less widespread tendency to write creative prose where Scots is dominant in narrative as much as in dialogue has developed. As might be expected, this new tendency has not produced too many novels or novellas (short stories were always more likely to be in Scots because they could be included in specialist magazines, such as Lallans). We will see in the following, however, that Scots can be used in a variety of different ways to aid the narrative while the authors are also pushing forward the creative use of the language. In two of these books, Scots is used in a relatively straightforward manner. In Girnin Gates (2003) by Hamish Macdonald (Blackhall and Macdonald 2003), an essentially comic Bildungsroman focused on the teenage years of a talented boy growing up in a council scheme just



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 169

over the Dunbartonshire border from Glasgow, an urban West Central dialect is maintained successfully throughout, something no doubt helped by its being narrated exclusively by the central protagonist. Even dialogue is refracted through the lens of this character’s memory. Sheena Blackhall’s Loon (2003) is also essentially a Bildungsroman based around a series of events in the life of a teenager living in a small village and later a large city in the North-­East of Scotland (Blackhall and Macdonald 2003). This is complemented, somewhat surprisingly, by supernatural intervention rather reminiscent of magical realism. Again the book is narrated by the protagonist, in a successfully consistent North-­East written dialect which is nevertheless approachable for those not from the area. Both of these novels – novellas, essentially – are primarily aimed at a ‘young adult’ market; possibly in particular a teenage male audience, a demographic whose acquisition of literacy skills has been targeted by successive Scottish and local administrations. Indeed, the two works were published within one cover, Double heider. While the two following works would also be attractive to younger readers, it is possible to envisage a fully adult audience reading the work with the understanding that it was intended primarily for them. Braken Fences (2011) by ‘Wulf Kurtoglu’ has a plot which would be very difficult to summarise in a small space. Set largely in what are now the south-­western and western marches of China, in a future where the world is divided into a Rational majority and a minority ruled by religious dogma, its cast of characters includes, as well as a range of humans from a variety of cultural and linguistic backgrounds, a band of Neanderthals (the ‘Old People’) who have somehow been brought from the distant past through new technology. Throughout, the author demonstrates considerable ability in making believable what is, in many ways, an unlikely tale. This is most apparent in the use of language. Unlike the preceding two novels, Braken Fences employs a narrator external to the plot. That voice is always in a literary Scots whose features are largely Central in nature (although more Northern usages, such as foo ‘how’, are regularly realised). A number of English ­speakers – two of whom are actually Scottish – take part in the action of the novel. Their speech is always represented as Standard English (a nice reversal of the traditional model of the use of Scots discussed above which may, I suspect, be entirely conscious). When the Scots used in the narration is employed in dialogue, it appears to represent Chinese. When the language of the ‘Old People’ is suggested, an interesting and unique mix of what I would analyse as Middle Scots and, possibly, Insular Scots is employed. There are of course, issues with this choice of language

170

modern scots

forms – not least that the difficulty in learning the various languages mentioned regularly in the novel is somewhat negated by their close family relationship as they are represented (although it is difficult to see how far a writer would be able to go with this type of differentiation of language use while not alienating a potential audience). Nevertheless, it is a bravura performance. The most accomplished of the four is, however, Matthew Fitt’s But-­n-­ Ben-­a-­go-­go (2001; Fitt is a major player in both Scottish literary circles and status planning, policy and practice for the language). Set around 100 years in the future, the novel discusses the life of one apparently unimportant citizen of a floating Scotland in a world drowned under hundreds of metres of sea water, where a population lives in the shadow of a dreadful physical condition that all inhabitants are practically guaranteed to contract through human contact; in particular, sexual contact. Linguistically, the envisaged world is almost entirely free of the English language, although there is one reference to American as a language into which edicts and news are translated. It might be assumed that, given its relative lack of high land, England has been affected badly by the global catastrophe, although this is never discussed and a subplot revolves around the capsize of a Danish ‘island’, suggesting that the population of low-­lying countries were able to save themselves (indeed, a Danish form of Scots is represented at a number of points in the book). On one occasion, in fact, a group of people from a range of different cultural backgrounds (whose associations are difficult to define: depending on your viewpoint, they could be seen as radicals, terrorists or refugees) do not speak English, but rather a not entirely fluent Scots with Yiddish and possibly ‘American’ influences. Although their use of Scots may have been triggered by the immediate presence of a Scots speaker (with underlying linguistic ‘capital’), the hegemonic demands of our time appear to have been overthrown in the imagined future. The language in use throughout, in both narrative and dialogue, is Scots, a Scots which, while largely dominated by (West) Central features (such as bitts ‘boots’, used throughout, and hing ‘thing’ (Fitt 2001: 72)), also appears to derive some of its focal features from Northern sources (for instance, quinie ‘girl’ (with affectionate overtones; Fitt 2001: 92) and swite ‘sweat’ (Fitt 2001: 134)). If this represents an attempt to envisage a future Standard Scots in its colloquial register, it appears to suggest something like a supradialectal koine (see, for instance, Millar 2016a: chapter 2), a form of language which derives from a range of geographical and social sources (this feature appears also to be envisaged in Braken Fences, I suspect, although Fitt’s Scots is somewhat more convincing and less bookish than the latter work’s). Sometimes Central



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 171

and Northern forms are found in free variation, so that, for instance, North-­East tyaave ‘to endure’ (here spelled chauve) co-­exists with mauger (here spelled moger), with essentially the same meaning, particularly prevalent in more southerly parts of the West Central region. While this type of Scots is regularly found in dialogue, more variation is present there. At least one character speaks something rather like Dundonian; urban West Central features are also evinced, such as coupon ‘face, head’, which is used occasionally throughout the book, although practically always in dialogue. The thought and discipline which went into the work are impressive, to put it mildly, even if there are a few occasions where English usages appear, and some Scots forms used throughout, such as caucht ‘caught’, are, at the very least, not as mainstream in the language as forms such as catchit. Some readers may have noticed that perhaps the most famous literary exploitation of Scottish vernacular in at least the last thirty years – Irvine Welsh’s Trainspotting (1994) – has not been mentioned. It has to be recognised that, disregarding the quality of the writing, the deployment of the urban speech of the northern fringe of Edinburgh, along with the drug subculture central to the novel’s theme, was its most potent selling point, in particular, perhaps, outside Scotland. Rereading the book long after the furore died down, it is striking how little actual Scots there is in the novel. Most of the apparent disruptions of Standard English represent eye dialect; Scots lexical features are unusual. That does not mean that on occasion the vernacular usage is not highly effective, of course, as can be seen in this excerpt from the introductory monologue by Mark Renton, the central character: The sweat wis lashing oafay Sick Boy; he wis trembling. Ah wis jist sitting there, focussing oan the telly, tryin no tae notice the cunt. He wis bringing me doon. Ah tried tae keep ma attention oan the Jean-­Claude Van Damme video. (Welsh 1994: 1)

It needs to be recognised, however, that this type of technique is carried through more effectively by other writers, such as Tom Leonard, as we will discuss in the following section 6.4  Scots in poetry

To discuss the use of Scots in poetry, arguably its central literary focus in the modern age, we need to go further back in history than was the case when discussing prose. In the later middle ages and in the early modern period, Scottish literature in what we would now term Scots was arguably rather more impressive than the post-­Chaucer literature

172

modern scots

of England written during roughly the same period. Poets of the calibre of Barbour, Dunbar, Kennedy and Henryson produced major works in a wide range of poetic genres. A particularly impressive example of this effervescence is Gavin Douglas’ translation (in some senses a re-­ imagining) of Virgil’s Aeneid, written in the early sixteenth century. Interestingly, this also appears to be the first work of this literary renaissance which unequivocally called the language in which it was written Scots (‘Scottis’) when many other writers preferred to call what they were writing Inglis ‘English’ (although it is one of the many ironies of Scottish literature – indeed Scottish history – that Douglas, as an elevated cleric and politician, was an Anglophile who favoured closer political ties with England; see McClure 1995a: 51). The following is an excerpt from the prologue to his Eneydos (where is yogh, here standing for /j/): And ʒit forsuyth I set my bissy pane, As that I couth to mak it braid and plane, Kepand na sudroun bot our awyn langage, And speikis as I lernyt quhen I was page. Nor ʒit sa cleyn all sudron I refuses, Bot sum word I pronounce as nyghtbouris doys: Lyke as in Latyn beyn grew termys sum, So me behufyt quhilum or than be dum Sum bastard Latyn, French or Inglyss oyss Quhar scant was Scottis – I had nane other choys. Nocht for our tong is in the selwyn skant But for that I the fowth of langage want. (As quoted in Jack 1997: 244) ‘And yet in truth I set my busy pen as I could to make it broad and plain, permitting no Southron [i.e., English] but instead our own language, and speak as I learned when I was a boy servant. Nor yet so completely do I refuse all Southron, but some words I pronounce as our neighbours do: just as in Latin some terms have been developed, so I had to use some bastard Latin, French or English where Scots was wanting or then be silent – I had no other choice. Not because our tongue is wanting in itself, but rather because I myself do not possess the full fruitfulness of language.’

It would be wrong to say that Scottish poetry of the time was not influenced by what was being written in what was becoming Standard English (in its high register uses there is considerable apparent English admixture in the Scots, albeit normally following Scots orthographical patterns: see Millar 2012: 71). But the Scots employed can be markedly used in all genres, discussing both concrete and abstract beings, things



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 173

and concepts. It is in no way the handmaiden of English. This position has never been reached again since that (first) Scottish Renaissance, although the wish to achieve such a programme has been a recurring theme in the work of many (but not all) writers of poetry in Scots (or including Scots elements). Let us compare this poem to one by Robert Burns (1759–96). It should be noted before we begin our brief analysis that, both outside and within Scotland, if someone is likely to have read the work of any one Scottish poet, it is likely to be that of Robert Burns. Moreover, if a person knows only one of Burns’ poems, it is likely to be this one – ‘To a Mouse’ (first published in 1786). This global celebration of his life and work may obscure the extent to which this poem is both unusual and original for its time (and, indeed, now): Wee, sleekit, cowran, tim’rous beastie. Oh, what a panic’s in thy breastie ! Thou need na start awa sae hasty, Wi’ bickering brattle ! I wad be laith to rin an’ chase thee, Wi’ murd’ring pattle ! I’m truly sorry man’s dominion Has broken nature’s social union, An’ justifies that ill opinion Which makes thee startle At me, thy poor earth-­born companion An’ fellow-­mortal ! I doubt na, whyles, but thou may thieve; What then? poor beastie, thou maun live ! A daimen icker in a thrave ‘S a sma’ request: I’ll get a blessin wi’ the lave, And never miss’t ! Thy wee bit housie, too, in ruin ! It’s silly wa’s the win’s are strewin’ ! An’ naething, now, to big a new ane, O’ foggage green ! An’ bleak December’s winds ensuin, Baith snell and keen ! Thou saw the fields laid bare an’ waste, An’ weary winter comin fast,

174

modern scots

An’ cozie here, beneath the blast, Thou thought to dwell, ‘Till crash ! the cruel coulter past Out thro’ thy cell. That wee bit heap o’ leaves an’ stibble Has cost thee mony a weary nibble ! Now thou’s turn’d out, for a’ thy trouble, But house or hald, To thole the winter’s sleety dribble, An cranreuch cauld. But, Mousie, thou art no thy lane, In proving foresight may be vain: The best laid schemes o’ mice an’ men. Gang eft agley, An’ lea’e us nought but grief and pain, For promised joy ! Still, thou art blest, compar’d wi’ me ! The present only toucheth thee: But, och ! I backward cast my ee, On prospects drear ! An’ forward, tho’ I canna see, I guess an’ fear ! ‘Little slippery, cowering, frightened small animal. Oh, what a panic is in your little breast! You don’t need to start away so hastily with noisy clatter! I do not wish to run and chase you, with a murdering bladed plough cleaner. ‘I’m truly sorry man’s dominion has broken nature’s social union, and justifies that ill opinion which makes you startle at me, your poor earth-­ born companion and fellow-­mortal! ‘I have no doubt that sometimes you may steal; what then? Poor little beast, you must live! An occasional ear of corn in a measure is a small request: I’ll receive a blessing with the rest, and never miss it!’ ‘Your little house also in ruin! It’s unstable walls the winds are strewing! And nothing, now, to build a new one, from green living stuff! And bleak December’s winds ensuing, both harsh and keen! ‘You saw the fields laid bare and waste. And weary winter coming fast, and cosy here beneath the blast, you thought to dwell, until crash! the cruel plough blade passed out through your room. ‘That little heap of leaves and stubble has cost you many a weary



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 175

nibble! Now you’re turned out, for all your trouble, with neither house nor residence, to suffer the winter’s sleety dribble and the cold hoar-­frost. ‘But little Mouse, you are not alone, in proving foresight may be vain: the best laid schemes of mice and men often go awry, and leave us nothing but grief and pain, for promised joy! ‘Still, you are blessed, compared with me! The present alone touches you: But, och! I backward cast my eye, on prospects drear! and forward, though I cannot see, I guess and fear!’

Before we begin our linguistic analysis, we need to recognise a small number of central facts about the history of Scots in poetry. While the seventeenth century was not a particularly fertile one for poetry in the language, it would be wrong to say that Scots ever truly stopped being employed in a poetic context. From an early point in the eighteenth century a ‘vernacular revival’ began to gain strength (this is a much covered period, although the classic survey is still Angus-­Butterworth 1969). While much of the output of the time was concerned with developing proto-­Romantic ideas of authenticity and sentiment, couched in the contemporary literary analysis of ‘folk’ culture and literature, early exponents of the ‘revival’ were also interested in and influenced by their Renaissance forebears. Much was novel about this movement, therefore, but there was also continuity. Eighteenth-­century Scots-­using poets were also influenced by their English-­using contemporaries and, indeed, predecessors, going back to Milton, Shakespeare and before. While later in the century Burns may not have accessed all of these directly, they were certainly there in the work that directly influenced him and, indeed, in the poetic and cultural ecology in which he lived. It could be argued that ‘To a Mouse’ is so well known that it is almost impossible to approach its language use with fresh eyes. Nevertheless, a number of essential points can be made. In the first instance, the poem is not wholly in Scots. There are elements of the poem which are unequivocally Standard English. Some features, such as the use of the third person singular -­th endings, are archaic (if not archaistic) for English (and historically unknown with Scots). In a period where literacy was almost wholly and solely in Standard English and Renaissance translations of the Bible were practically the sole choice for accessing divine writ (and often the only book that families owned), these apparent intrusions might be interpreted as inevitable, particularly with a writer steeped in the tradition of literature in the English language like Burns. It should be noted, however, that these apparent intrusions of English usage into the Scots are in no way random or even inexplicable. If we make a close analysis of the language use in the poem it quickly

176

modern scots

becomes apparent that Standard English is generally used in those situations where abstract concepts and philosophical ideas are being discussed; the Scots, on the other hand, is almost wholly associated with description and the expression of sentiment. In a sense we have here the bind in which lesser-­used languages which are close relatives of a major language find themselves. Analysing my own experience and practice, the natural world and emotions of various types are named and experienced to a considerable extent in Scots. ‘Rational’ concepts and ideas associated with a scientific view of the world are housed within a Standard English framework (although the fact that Scots and English share a considerable amount of lexis blurs this distinction rather more than this description allows). This, I would argue, partly explains what Burns is doing there. It is highly probable, however, that he is making a conscious distinction between sentiment and intellect in line with the philosophical fashion of his time. The fact that he did so may have contributed to the ‘natural’ dichotomy now present, however. Many of the patterns of linguistic behaviour embodied in this and Burns’ other ‘central’ poems were canonised in writing from the early nineteenth century on, in work composed by poets from all parts of the social scale. His work also intersected with, influenced and was influenced by the mainstream tradition of using Scots in prose discussed above. While I would not wish to denigrate the ability of some of these poetic followers, it is clear that most at least did not have the emotional range and candour Burns had, with sentimentality being preferred over sentiment. In local papers and in national magazines, such as The People’s Friend, at least in the twentieth century intended for an older, largely female, audience, this tradition of something like ‘folk verse’ has continued down to the present, although my own impression is that the tradition has become attenuated; it is often occasional in nature and its publication is perhaps most prevalent in local newspapers from rural districts. Inevitably, the quality of this verse is highly variable (although at its best it can have considerable force beyond the immediate moment). The standard ideology of the ‘Scottish Renaissance’, led from the early 1920s on by, among others, C. M. Grieve (1892–1978; generally known by his pen-­name, Hugh MacDiarmid), was that poetry in Scots as a form of ‘high literature’ had been essentially dead for a century before their time. Even Burns, MacDiarmid would claim in his most radical rhetoric, was ideologically suspect (possibly because he was being read through a kailyard-­informed prism); the only true models for the twentieth-­ century Renaissance were the makars of the earlier Renaissance, as discussed above. This was, as McClure (2000) has pointed out, something of an overstatement. What MacDiarmid probably particularly objected



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 177

to (insofar as we can actually reconstruct a complete understanding of what MacDiarmid’s views were on any principled point) was the regionalism of much of the best pre-­Renaissance poetry, as represented by the writing of Charles Murray (1864–1941), a poet of considerable talent who, despite having spent most of his working life in what became South Africa, wrote in the ‘Doric’ of his native North-­East. Murray’s work demonstrates depth and breadth; while not truly kailyard in its sentiment, it does concentrate on a narrative description of rural life, often from what might be analysed as a conservative viewpoint. Despite MacDiarmid’s own rural background (and the fact that he spoke his native Borders dialect), he at least claimed that the way forward for the use of Scots in poetry was the employment of what is sometimes termed a synthetic Scots. This is, perhaps, an unfortunate choice of word, since it suggests an artificiality which was not, at least normally, central to MacDiarmid’s conception of the term (although it might be closer to the intentions of some of his successors; for a recent discussion of many of these issues, see Otty 2014). Influenced – at least to an extent – by some of the language planning activities carried out in Norway in the nineteenth century (see, for instance, Millar 2005 and Hyvik, Millar and Newby 2016), what the principal actors of the Renaissance appeared to be concerned with was the construction of a Standard Scots which synthesised elements of the dialects into a new and coherent whole, worthy of being treated as a national language (whether sometimes challenging, perhaps even elitist, modernist literature was the best way to try to achieve this programme is, of course, another matter). A central element to this ambition was the employment of what dictionaries existed for Scots at the time (essentially and predominantly, Jamieson’s dictionary of 1808) to produce art whose roots were in Scotland as a whole rather than in only one region. A particularly striking example of this is MacDiarmid’s ‘The Watergaw’, originally published in 1925 (a watergaw is a half-­formed rainbow): Ae weet forenicht i’ the yow-­trummle I saw thon antrin thing, A watergaw wi’ its chitterin licht Ayont the on-­ding; An’ I thocht o’ the last wild look ye gied Afore ye deed! There was nae reek i’ the laverock’s hoose That nicht – an’ nane i’ mine; But I hae thocht o’ that foolish licht

178

modern scots

Ever sin’ syne; An’ I think that mebbe at last I ken What your look meant then. ’On a certain early evening in the cold snap following the sheep-­shearing, I saw that very strange thing, a half-­formed rainbow, with its shimmering light, beyond the oncoming rain; and I thought of the last wild look you gave before you died. ‘There was no smoke in the lark’s house [the sky] that night – and none in mine; but I have thought of that foolish light ever since then; and I think that perhaps I at last know what your look meant then.’

In a sense this is quite a conventional piece of lyric poetry, albeit one of considerable ability and depth; it has none of the complexity of the nearly contemporary A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle (this may be a good thing, but that is, of course, a different debate). What we can do, however, is reconstruct some of MacDiarmid’s work processes in the construction of the work. These include, as McClure (2000: 87–9) points out, dictionaries (in particular that of Jamieson) and scholarly resources of a number of kinds, as well as his own knowledge and experience; dialect origin was largely ignored in terms of lexical choice and phonology. In a sense his technique was scatter-­gun: there appears at times to be a randomised methodology underlying his composition. Yet in other ways considerable evidence exists for his using an almost meditative technique to connect somewhat oxymoronic topics and language use. In a sense, therefore, what we have here is also deeply synthetic. This ‘synthetic’ tradition is particularly marked in poets who were inspired by MacDiarmid’s work. A particularly good example can be found in the work of Sydney Goodsir Smith (1915–75). A New Zealander by birth (although Scottish by descent) who was primarily educated outside Scotland, it might seem strange that he chose to write in Scots. He may have seen Scots (or Lallans ‘Lowlands’, as many of those associated with the Renaissance called the literary variety) as a fit instrument for poetic expression, rather than as a living entity outside his imagination (although that would be in many ways an unfair analysis, as his ‘Epistle to John Guthrie’ (1941) demonstrates – even if this poem is in many senses a pastiche of a range of Burns’ poems). Nevertheless (and despite criticism from more conservative critics), Smith does demonstrate considerable ability both as a poet and as a ‘constructor’ of Scots (see McClure 2000: 92–9 in particular). Whether this unquestionable ability can be said to have increased the prestige and visibility of Scots, acting as an encouragement to its increased use, is another matter, however.



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 179

An issue which many adherents of the Renaissance had (possibly unconsciously on most occasions) was their use of linguistic models for a literary Scots based on either historical or rural sources. Given his background, the latter resource was, of course, understandable for someone like MacDiarmid, but it was also present in the work of writers like Smith, who had no such connection (the work of Edinburgh poet Robert Garioch is a particularly complex – and interesting – case which we do not have the space to consider here). This issue was particularly problematical since, from at least the mid-­nineteenth century on, most Scots speakers lived in urban areas and spoke urban varieties, varieties often considered, as we have seen, as ‘corrupt’ or ‘ugly’ by both the ‘authorities’ and many who dealt with the language academically. It would be wrong to say that there was no urban literature before the 1960s, but social and political shifts did give a particular push to particular kinds of new literature in the dialect of especially Glasgow. A good (although in some senses minor) introduction to this new ‘school’ is ‘Lament for a Lost Dinner Ticket’ (1972) by Margaret Hamilton: See ma mammy See ma dinner ticket A pititnma Pokit an she pititny Washnmachine. See thon burnty up wherra firwiz Ma mammy says ‘Am no tellnyagain No y playnit’ A jis wen y eat ma Pokacrisps furma dinner Nabigwocomdoon. The wummin sed ‘Aver near clapsed Jistur heednur Wee wellies stikinoot.’ They sed ‘wot heppind?’ Nme’n ma belly Na bedna hospital A sed ‘a pititnma Pokit an she petitny washnmachine.’

180

modern scots

They sed ‘Ees thees chaild eb slootly Non verbal?’ A sed ‘Ma Bumsair’ Nwen’y sleep. ‘I want to talk about my mother and my dinner ticket. I put it in my pocket and she put it in the washing machine. ‘Do you know that burnt place up where the fire was? My mother says, “I won’t tell you again not to play in it.” I just went to eat a bag of potato crisps for my dinner and a big wall came down. ‘The woman said, “I very nearly collapsed: just her head and her little Wellington boots sticking out.” ‘They said: “What happened?” – and me on my belly in a bed in a hospital. ‘I said: “I put it in my pocket and she put it in the washing machine.” ‘They said: “Is this child absolutely non-­verbal?” I said: “My bottom hurts”, and I went to sleep.’

At first glance, what is striking about this poem is its apparent impenetrability. It does not look (or ‘feel’, if that is the correct word) like English. Nor is it intended to. Indeed, that is one of the central points of the work – incorporating the inclusion of a piece of English following RP practice towards its end. In a sense the poem represents the genuine eloquence of the girl’s language being masked by outsiders’ unwillingness to accept that what is being represented is a written attempt at showing the strength of her spoken register (a fact demonstrated powerfully when the poem is read aloud). The fact that this ‘impenetrable’ aspect to Glaswegian speech had already by the time of the poem’s composition been recognised by comedians like Stanley Baxter in his Parliamo Glesga sketches adds force to the rhetorical strategies employed (for a discussion of this type of language-­based humour, see Macaulay 1987). This ‘phonetic’ approach was also employed by urban poets who went far beyond the ‘realistic’ subject matters employed here by Hamilton. On these occasions, representations of urban dialect can sometimes take the reader into unexpected places, as seen in Tom Leonard’s ‘The Good Thief’ (1969): heh jimmy yawright ih stull wayiz urryi ih heh jimmy ma right insane yirra pape



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 181

ma right insane yirwanny us jimmy see it nyir eyes wanny uz heh heh jimmy lookslik wirgonny miss thi gemm gonny miss thi GEMM jimmy nearly three a cloke thinoo dork init good jobe theyve gote the lights

If it were not for the title of this piece, the first interpretation or reading of its subject matter would be, as McClure (2000: 168–70) discusses, that the poem represents a (probably drunken) conversation between two Celtic fans (pape is a Glaswegian term for a Catholic, derived from papist – originally derogatory, it has been taken on as a badge of pride by the often oppressed immigrant Irish in a dominant Protestant environment) who have failed to get to Parkhead (where Celtic play – interestingly, the faithful refer to the ground as Paradise). One fan is more conscious than the other and is attempting to keep his less conscious companion in conversation. But the title changes everything. What we are witnessing instead is a conversation (in effect a monologue) between the good thief on his cross and Jesus, who is at the point of death. The broken nature of the dialogue is not due to the effects of alcohol but rather through the constriction of breathing central to the torture of crucifixion. The friendly tone of the thief’s speech is not only a representation of the warm and generous character often associated with people from western Scotland but also a brave attempt to stave off a horrible, degrading and despair-­filled death. Neatly, the hour when Jesus is traditionally said to have died – three o’clock in the afternoon – is also the time when most (and historically all) Saturday football games started. The apparently throwaway nature of the language is effective for the development of the poem’s tragic theme, particularly when the dialogue itself is at first appearance so banal. Poetry in Scots can therefore be said to be a vibrant part of the Scottish cultural scene. It has to be recognised, however, that the number of people who read poetry avidly and seriously is probably quite low in relation to the populace as a whole. Nevertheless, similar themes are explicit and implicit when we compare language attitudes and use for Scots and, for example, the tensions between the ‘genuine’

182

modern scots

rural usage and traditions and their urban and current equivalents, with the addition that a need to reach out to the public is matched and often superseded by a desire to experiment. It could, in fact, be argued that the conscious and planned nature of most poetic composition actually accentuates and encourages these tensions. 6.5 Drama

There is a long, albeit patchy, history to the use of Scots in drama, reaching back to Sir David Lyndsay’s Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis, first performed during the reign of James V in the sixteenth century. With the decline in prestige of Scots from around that period on, the language became somewhat occluded in what little drama was written expressly by Scottish authors (radical Protestant ideology, as embraced in Scotland, also distrusted theatrical performance). Its use never entirely died, however: Scots was often used to provide ‘colour’ to the dialogue, even by playwrights who did not hail from Scotland (an early example being the use of Scots by a character in one of Ben Jonson’s plays, Eastward Ho!, first performed in 1605), albeit with strikingly different levels of success in capturing the idoms of Scots speakers (an issue which remains in, for instance, modern popular drama). From the nineteenth century on, possibly due to the Church of Scotland and the more liberal dissenting denominations abandoning their previous distrust of drama, a tradition of primarily Scots theatre developed, expressly designed to be performed largely by amateur actors in church halls or other small venues. While some of the plays performed leaned towards tragedy (historical topics were not unknown, often involving rather romanticised retellings of subjects such as aspects of the lives of Mary Stuart or ‘Bonnie Prince Charlie’), comedy dominated (particularly prevalent were – very chaste – farces). These performances were popular – I went to at least two stagings a year until I was about ten – even after the mass ownership of televisions had become the norm. There was, however, a whiff of the kailyard about what was often rather disparagingly described as kitchie [i.e., kitchen] comedies; certainly, their connection to the everyday life of an increasingly urbanised and technologically advanced Scotland was limited. Performances continue, however, particularly in country districts. Inevitably, the quality of the plays – taken within the limitations of the genre – is variable: some were written by local people and, if successful, passed in ‘samizdat’ form around a region; others were written by ‘hack’ writers, sometimes not, perhaps, from a Scots-­speaking background. A radio tradition for similar productions also existed, often interact-



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 183

ing with live drama. Long-­running comic radio ‘soap operas’, such as The McFlannels (1939–53; televised series in 1958), were listened to by large audiences in the period during and after the Second World War, even when the more contrived and clichéd scripts elements provoked groans across the country (which was, of course, part of the fun; the show bore many similarities to the cartoon antics of the Sunday Post’s Broons and Oor Wullie, discussed below). Elements of this tradition can still be felt in the television soap opera River City (2001–), set in a thinly disguised East End of Glasgow, although the urban setting and the requirements of serial drama make it, in comparison with earlier forms of popular drama employing Scots, rather grittier (and also sensationalist). Comedy of various sorts and levels of quality continues many of these traditions up to the present day. With reference to the discussion of Scots primarily in prose dialogue, these productions, dominated entirely by speech, are inherently representations of colloquial and regional speech. Modern ‘art’ drama in Scots is relatively scarce in comparison. A good example, nevertheless, of a drama which was both popular and intended to be perceived as a ‘literary’ production is Robert McLellan’s Jamie the Saxt (1970), set around a series of vignettes concerned with James VI’s attempts in the early years of his reign to negotiate a path between the competing demands of the various political and ideological factions in the kingdom. The Scots employed is generally a form of literary contemporary Scots; probably wisely, there is little evidence for the Scots of James’ time, with the exception of quotations from documents of that period placed as scene titles. These were not spoken in the play. A striking feature is the lack of major register differences used by the largely middle-­class characters when speaking to the royal family and among themselves. This may represent a Scotland where vertical social differentiation was not as prominent in rather more h ­ ierarchical – and rich – polities; it may also demonstrate a lack of availability of vocabulary and turn of phrase necessary to express social distinction in modern varieties of the language, however. Linguistic differences are exploited in other contexts, however. Sir Robert Bowes, the English ambassador, speaks Standard English throughout the play, although he obviously understands the Scots of the King and his court; they, in their turn, generally appear to understand him. Some comic effect is achieved, however, by the lack of understanding between Scots speakers and an English messenger of lowly social background, who speaks something which resembles ‘cockney’. Perhaps the greatest linguistic coup in the play, however, is the language of James’ queen, Anne, who is a native Danish speaker. At the beginning of the play, her Scots is limited. On one occasion she observes that,

184

modern scots

‘See, the last time I see ye I couldna speak. I speak nou. Logie he say I hae a guid Scots tongue in my heid afore lang.’ By the end of the play, however, some years after we first encounter her, she speaks Scots fluently (although, in productions I have seen, she maintains a strong ‘foreign’ accent). A more recent play in the same basic field is Liz Lochhead’s Mary Queen of Scots Got Her Head Chopped Off (1987), a retelling of episodes from the life of Mary I, along with an epilogue set in a modern Central Belt urban environment, where the local children bully (to some degree persecute) Marie, a Catholic and newcomer, because of her outsider status. It is narrated by a sardonic ‘Everybird’, La Corbie. All actors play a number of roles. According to the back cover of my 1989 edition, a critic from the London-­based The Guardian newspaper, describes the play as being written ‘in sixteenth-­century Scots and standard English’. The latter ascription is certainly true, since English characters, like Elizabeth Tudor, and English-­domiciled Scottish exiles, such as Henry Stuart, Lord Darnley, mostly speak a twentieth-­century form of Standard English. The Scottish characters use a form of traditional Modern Scots, however, although not necessarily of a terribly dense type. This language use is supported and supplemented by modern traditional songs and other entertainments. The speech of John Knox, the Protestant leader, shows occasional fluctuations into Standard English. This is well-­observed: Knox had spent a considerable period outside Scotland (some of this in England or in the company of radical Protestant English exiles; see, for instance, Farrow 2004). He also would have understood that publication in English guaranteed his writings a wider audience, an audience outside Scotland. Indeed, Lochhead’s use of Scots is even more subtle than this: the language of the modern urban epilogue is far less traditional, as is to be expected, given its environment. The achievements of both McLellan and Lochhead are considerable, both dramatically and (as concerns us here) linguistically. Their intentions are only slightly different, perhaps: McLellan strives for consistency in language use; Lochhead is more interested in the ways in which linguistic forms and forces can be harnessed to suit her dramatic purposes and characterisation. It is a great pity that we do not have more examples of this type of Scots play. 6.6  Scots in the press

It is not only in literature that written Scots can be found; it is also regularly present in print and new media. At the very least Scots words and phrases are to be found in Scottish newspapers (as has been the



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 185

case since the nineteenth century: see Donaldson 1986 and Douglas 2009) and magazines. The level of Scots used in a piece can differ from newspaper to newspaper and from writer to writer. Here, for instance, is an excerpt from a column by broadcaster Robbie Shepherd in The Press and Journal (a newspaper which could be described as in a halfway position between a national newspaper, such as The Scotsman, and a local paper; it serves the Aberdeen area in particular but also claims to be the ‘Voice of the North’). In the following passage (from 9 July 2001; Shepherd 2006: 68), Shepherd describes being honoured by the Queen: “We ken fit ye’ll be on aboot in neist Monday’s column!” It’s surprisin the number of fowk that cam oot wi that since ma photo wis in the paper on Wednesday morning proodly haudin up ma medal. Weel, I dibber-­dabbert aboot gien’t a menchin, for it wis a speecial occasion: a fairish day as the North-­easter wad say in his maisterfu wye o understatement; a day I’ll myn on for the rest o ma time on es earth.

While this is not wholly dense Scots, it is certainly a piece of writing which demonstrates a native speaker ability in a North-­East variety of the language. Other users of Scots words and phrases would employ this usage in a Standard English environment. In her 2009 study of the use of Scots in the Scottish press, Fiona Douglas noted many of the features already mentioned; not least that there was normally a tokenistic sprinkling of Scots vocabulary in newspaper articles. When the language was used in this way, it was practically never found in ‘hard news’ stories. It was primarily employed when we can imagine that the writer is producing a monologue based upon her or his thoughts; the language is guaranteed to be associated almost inevitably with humour or sentiment. In newspaper diary sections, moreover, the scrapbook quality of much of the material in this type of column also encourages greater latitude in the use of the vernacular. Throughout, a sense of couthiness, of native wit and wisdom (arguably supporting the social and political status quo), is pervasive, in much the same way as in the kailyard well over a century ago. Indeed it could be argued that the language use of the Scottish press is the true descendant of the nineteenth-­century Scottish literary canon. Another feature of the daily and periodical press is the use of Scots in cartoons and humorous anecdotes. For instance, the Sunday Post ­(published from Dundee, but read across Scotland and by exiles everywhere) has published two comic strip ‘soap operas’, The Broons and Oor Wullie, since the 1940s. Set in working-­class neighbourhoods of a fictional town which bears similarities to Dundee, it recounts the

186

modern scots

largely comic and everyday adventures of – in the first instance – a large nuclear family and – for the latter – a young boy and his friends. The former is set in a traditional tenement street, the latter in a council scheme at the edge of town. The strips seem to exist in a strange time capsule. While elements of the storylines are contemporary, the main characters remain situated in dress and appearance essentially in the 1950s, if not earlier. While a number of reasons for this anomaly might be suggested – not least a desire for continuity – it is likely that the modern realities of post-­industrial Scotland are not issues the creators of the cartoons want to deal with. But the use of Scots in such a setting leaves the language in something of a double bind, however. Despite the slight updates in appearance and subject matter which are ongoing with the cartoon strips, the fact that they are placed in an idealised Scottish cultural reserve, with little or no similarities to the lives anyone reading them might have, means that the language used – no matter how similar it often is to more conservative Scots – is perceived as being inherently confined to this commodified, heritage bubble. More importantly, perhaps, the largely urban readership the strips have will be particularly aware of the differences between their own varieties and those represented there. 6.7  Ulster Scots in literature

While Ulster Scots has been used in a considerable number of different ways in several genres over the years, economies of scale – the relatively circumscribed number of speakers in comparison with Scotland, along with questions of identity and nationality, much more complex in Ireland than across the North Channel – have meant that there has been significantly less production in Scots, or using Scots, in Ulster. In much of the material reproduced in Ferguson (2008), some level of Scottish influence is perceptible; on many occasions this debt is entirely conscious. Ferguson (2008: 410–12) demonstrates that writers not usually associated with Ulster Scots, such as Seamus Heaney, at least occasionally employ Scots lexis and turns of phrase. Heaney himself did not grow up in an Ulster Scots-­speaking area, but that region was not physically far from his birthplace. His use of Scots could well come from the spread of Scots features in Ulster beyond its heartland mentioned on several occasions throughout the book; Heaney may have been i­ nfluenced from the printed page by Scottish writers and other users of Scots rather than everyday exposure, however. As is also the case in Scotland, most Ulster Scots literature is verse. There are, however, a number of novels and other prose works which



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 187

use the language in a variety of different ways. In the following I will first give some space to prose before turning to poetry, however, because the former written mode may come to more readers’ attention than will the latter. While, perhaps inevitably, there are considerably fewer novels which use Ulster Scots than use the Scots of Scotland, those which have been published have often been of some quality. In the following we will concentrate on two works written in different centuries and with noteworthy differences both in subject matter and genre expectations. The first of these is W. G. Lyttle’s Sons of the Sod. A Tale of County Down, originally published in 1886, here referring to the edition, scanned from a nineteenth century version, published in 2015 (Lyttle was born in 1844 and died in 1896). Falling somewhere between melodrama and kailyard (which was only in its infancy in Scotland at the time) in its subject matter and means of narration, it is generally an assured performance, despite occasionally uncomfortable turns of phrase and plot devices (most of which are no more jarring than similar traits in the work of rather more celebrated writers, such as Dickens). Lyttle generally follows what we have already described as the ‘Scott model’, with the exception of a small number of Scots words used in the narrative – normally well known to all readers of English who have read Scottish novels; in any event their meaning can be readily established from context. Ulster Scots is confined to the speech of the peasantry of the Ards Peninsula, whether benevolent (such as the Widow Hunter) or wicked (such as Black Ben Hanlon). Squire Brown and his daughter Maggie use only English, as do all the schoolteachers and religious ministers in the book, even when they are obviously closely connected to the locals. Harry O’Neill, a peasant by birth, also only uses English, even when speaking to Scots speakers whom he knew as a child. He left Ireland under mysterious circumstances, however, lived abroad for many years and made his fortune from gold prospecting; it is possible that his sojourn abroad led to a complete loss of his native dialect; more likely, however, is that this change helps the reader accept that he is ‘fit’ to marry the squire’s daughter. Pressures of space mean that we cannot delve too deeply into the use of Scots in this novel. One example must suffice. In this excerpt from relatively early in the novel, an apparent stranger knocks at the Widow Hunter’s door: “My dear Mrs Hunter, how are you?”   “Thank ye, sir, A’m bravely,” she answered, gazing into his face in wonder and without attempting to withdraw her hands.

188

modern scots

  “You don’t recognise me, I see,” said the stranger. “Come now, Mrs Hunter, who am I?”   “A declare, sir, A dae not ken,” she answered, “there’s somethin’ aboot yer e’en an’ yer forehead that A think A hae seen afore, but yer a stranger tae me.”   “Well, I won’t be that much longer,” he exclaimed. “I’m Harry O’Neill—Corney’s son.”

The second novel with Ulster Scots dialogue to be discussed here is much more recent – Wake the Tribe o’ Dan (1998) by Philip Robinson (1946–). The novel describes a rural community (Drumcrun, probably in Co. Antrim, although this is never stated) where traditional lifestyles are in constant conflict with modern aspirations, particularly among the young and where external concepts of ‘genuine’ heritage lie uneasily with the evolving culture of the township. Unusually for a novel from the last hundred years, there is a picaresque quality to its plot which sits uneasily with the rather weighty themes touched upon. Given Robinson’s status as an activist for and user of Ulster Scots, it is unsurprising that the most striking and impressive element in the novel is its depiction and use of Scots, a Scots which is rather more Irish in its nature than is the case for the Scots of Lyttle’s nineteent-­century novel just considered. The ‘synthetic’ nature of ‘official’ Ulster Scots is also satirised, with a combination of older representations of the language and a pedantic purism (Drumcrun, ‘hill of the Picts’ in Irish, is renamed Pechtisknowe, particularly striking in a cultural and linguistic framework – in both Scotland and Ireland – where Pechtis would seem archaic to the point of being archaistic; the real-­world Loyalist identification of themselves with the Picts rather than the Irish-­ Catholic Gaels (see Pittock 1999: 51) also feeds into this, and is played with by the author and some of his characters). A striking example of all of these issues can be found in the following conversation (Robinson 1998: 111): “Well, Mr Hegan, did you manage to get the Drumcun breeks for us?” He [Mr James] began. “Mr Close here is going to make a record of them.”   “Och ay bot sure A hae yin o thae bonnets anaa,” Rab said casually. He pulled out the bonnet and threw it on the table.   “Ze cudna say quha . . .?” Mr Close began to say in the affected tongue he had learned at college. “Na, A kenna ocht aboot wha haed it,” Rab answered. “Some widda-­ woman A doot.” “Quhat . . . sang! Frae here in Pechtisknowe?” Mr Close’s eyes widened.



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 189

Rab Hegan’s Scots is expressly compared with the ‘college’ Scots of the two ‘men from the ministry’ (where stands for the archaic letter yogh, as discussed earlier in this chapter). Hegan is also pulling the wool over the two better-­educated men’s ears in this sequence, as issues on judging what intelligence actually is are matched to the same arguments about what genuine means. As is the case in Scotland, Ulster Scots was regularly used in local and regional newspapers in the nineteenth century (as, again, selections in Ferguson’s 2008 collection demonstrate), often for both comic and editorial effect, with the couthie and pawkie stereotypes previously mentioned being particularly prominent. The characters constructed appear often to represent more straightforward (and controversialist) Unionist views than the middle-­class, ostensibly Liberal, readership generally assumed for these publications would normally accept in the ‘intellectual’ language. In relation to Ulster Scots verse, the influence of Burns inevitably weighs heavily, in particular, perhaps, because his (south) West Central Scots and the dialects of Irish Scots speakers are close relatives. On occasion, as the selection provided in Ferguson (2008) demonstrates, the verse produced is sentimental or trite (or, indeed both). Often a Scots patina appears to have been applied to an essentially Standard English structure. As we have seen, however, these failings are not peculiar to Ulster: they are readily observable in Scottish production of the same sort; they are probably normal in the verse produced in any language at any time. At its best, however, Ulster Scots poetry is of considerable quality. James Orr (1770–1816), a poet of rural Co. Antrim, demonstrates both considerable command of his native tongue and a strong satirical (even sardonic) take on the failings of his age and his compatriots, at odds with the sentimental subject matter of the verse of many of his contemporaries. In his ‘Donegore Hill’, for instance, he compares the sedentary and docile peasantry of his day with the activist beliefs and actions of their ancestors. In the first verse he comments: The dew-­draps wat the fiel o’ braid, That soon the war-­horse thorthur’d; An falds were op’d by monie a herd Wha lang ere night lay tortur’d; Whan chiels wha grudg’d to be sae tax’d And tyth’d by rack-­rent blauth’ry, Turn’d out en masse, as soon as ax’d— An unco throuthier squath’ry Were we, that day.

190

modern scots

This is mainstream Scots (whether spoken in Ireland or Scotland) of the day. With the exception of a few Irish-­derived phonological features expressed through spelling, such as thorthur’d, the poem could easily have been written in Scotland. Something of this more realistic tradition can be seen in the work of the scholar and poet James Fenton (1931–), also a son of rural Co. Antrim. While his work often dwells on the landscape, flora and fauna of his childhood, it has a crystalline, almost detatched quality, which, to me, as a non-­specialist, appears reminiscent of poets such as John Clare. The first verse of his ‘Dailygan’, with its faint undertow of menace (as well as something of the flavour of Thomas Gray’s ‘Elegy in a Country Churchyard’, a text studied, willingly or not, by practically all schoolchildren in the English-­speaking world until comparatively recently), must suffice: An noo the lichts ower Brochanor mak blak the brae behin; The sallies, hoovin saft an grey, come getherin, cloodin in; The watter, glancing ower its dark, babs lippin, whusperin by; The boag’s dark-­swellin, quait, aroon the tummock whar A lie.

6.8  Written Scots beyond the Scots-­speaking world

Written Scots was actually produced well beyond Scotland and Ireland: in England, North America, Australia, New Zealand and beyond (see, for instance, Tulloch 1997). Some of this material was undoubtedly produced by Scots or by people who had been brought up in a strongly Scots-­speaking environment. Much of it was not, however. The suggestion might be made that the influence of Burns and the ‘truth-­speaking’ associations of Scots in print spread a Scots-­flavoured usage across the English-­speaking world. With the latter use, it is certainly true that dialects local to specific areas were often used in these ways – the ‘Hoosier’ commentary found in the newspapers of Indiana and the surrounding states, or the faux-­naïve ghost-­written print narratives of Davy Crockett spring to mind; what marks off Scots in these contexts is its international currency as a language of ‘truth’.



scots used cre atively : liter ature and beyond 191

6.9 Conclusion

Scots is therefore a major force and medium by which ideas can be broadcast in writing. In many ways it can also be analysed as a product of this dissemination. As we have seen, this force is most focused in Scotland and Ireland. Its spread and use outside these confines is noteworthy, however. It remains, nonetheless, largely the primary language only of verse and of dialogue. At least until recently its use in narrative was primarily comic or, at least, served the untutored but truth-­speaking stereotype discussed above. The dangers of the kailyard are considerable. In recent years Scots has begun to appear in narrative in a high art context. This remains experimental (and often heavily subsidised), however. With a few notable exceptions, the broadcast media have not as yet come this far, although the new media of the digital age may be closer to the goal (perhaps representing the more oral and perceptually ephemeral nature of the internet and the ‘throwaway’ essence of its language use). Exercises

1. Compare and contrast the use of Scots in one nineteenth-­and one twentieth-­century novel (or short story). Can any differences in terms of use and subject matter be established for the Scots? 2. Why are so few novels published which are entirely in Scots? 3. Collect the Oor Wullie or Broons strips in the Sunday Post for two months. Which types of Scots features are found in the dialogue? Which are missing? You may, if you wish, consider popular periodicals like The People’s Friend instead. Notes

1. There are many excellent surveys of Scottish literature. From my own experience as an outsider to its study, the most approachable­ – despite, or perhaps because of, its occasionally opinionated ­commentary – is Crawford (2007). 2. This practice is not confined to Scots, of course, as a reading of many of Thomas Hardy’s novels will reveal.

7  The sociolinguistics of Scots

7.1 Introduction

In a sense, Scots is an invisible language. Although it is spoken in various forms throughout Scotland and Ulster, its official presence has been, until very recently, highly limited. It has been the language of ‘hearth and home’ – the hamely tongue, as it has often been called in Ulster; it has been, in strikingly different forms and ways, the language of literature and popular culture. In official circles, however, it has essentially ceased to exist, at least until the last twenty years or so. As matters stand now, it is understandable why some commentators question the status as language of Scots; some would even question its existence. This is particularly the case in Ulster, perhaps, where Scots has strong cultural associations, but by the nature of its environment cannot be claimed to be a vernacular marker of nationhood. Even if views of this type represent the judgement of a partly anglicised, urban, elite opinion-­forming class, we still need to understand why views of this type not only occur, but are actually prevalent. Throughout, concentration on a number of problematised elements will be made. The first of these is, perhaps, the greatest of these internal tensions: that between written and spoken Scots, often seen as a contrast between urban and rural usage. 7.2  Urban vs. rural

Most Scots speakers in Scotland live in urban areas, settlements with at least 50,000 inhabitants. Yet it is rural varieties which often receive the most attention. Why is this the case? The first explanation is inherently linguistic. Scotland is not the only industrialised country where rural dialects are more different to and discrete from the standard variety employed in that region than are their urban equivalents. In Scotland, for instance, the use of /x/ in words like nicht ‘night’ is now confined to rural districts (and there largely to 192



the sociolinguistics of scots 193

the speech of older people); this process of retreat for this feature from urban areas is relatively recent. I can remember my father’s father, who was born in 1886, a miner’s son who was a driver for a haulage business, saying /ˈdɔxtər/ for ‘daughter’, for instance; my father, born in 1926, like his father a product of urban or at least industrial environments, said /tjʌx/ for ‘tough’ when referring to untender meat. The change is now absolute, however. In addition, use of dialect lexis is much more pronounced in rural districts than it is in urban, even when the phonologies of both regions are similar (a point already made in Chapter 4). But there are other forces underlying the urban/rural dichotomy. At least one of these is ideological. There has always been a pattern of thought in western thinking which has favoured the rural over the urban, albeit often in a deeply idealised way, as seen with pastoral poetry from the classical Greek period on and the image of Marie Antoinette, Queen of France, searching for a ‘simpler’ life by occasionally living like a shepherdess (at least as she perceived that life). This ideal of rural ‘authenticity’ assumed even greater cultural importance during and after the period from the mid-­eighteenth century on in which Romanticism became the prevailing philosophical and societal ideal. This view need not be linguistically or politically conservative – we need only think of Ivar Aasen creating a new Norwegian language from his recording of the speech of the peasantry as part of a process of democratisation (also visible in the exertions of many other modern language activists and planners) to see how processes of this type could be considered radical (for a discussion of many of these issues, see Millar 2005). As I have shown in a number of papers, however (see Millar 2003 and 2004, for instance), the perception of ‘authenticity’, linguistic and cultural, by middle-­class observers and actors in Scotland appears to have veered in the course of the nineteenth century towards an essentially conservative view of rural life as the desired norm. Rural people, speaking rural dialects, are, according to this interpretation, genuinely Scottish in their thrift and an acceptance of the established order tempered by the permitted commentary of ‘native wit’, couthiness or pawkiness in Scots. This image is, of course, the origin of the still prevalent ‘canny Scot’ stereotype. This image was given prominence as contrast to the views adopted by middle-­class opinion makers in relation to the rapidly expanding urban areas. According to the prevailing views of the nineteenth century – strangely, not that different from those held by some influential groups in the early twenty-­first century – the urban poor, dependent on charity or government assistance for their daily survival, were essentially responsible for their own ill fortune. More worryingly (for the middle

194

modern scots

classes), working people in the cities became increasingly politicised during the period, moving inexorably to the political left. Such a movement caused a reaction among many members of the middle classes, bringing about an association between the ‘ugly’ politics of ‘King Mob’ and their ‘ugly’ speech; these associations are likely to have made many of the newly enfranchised lower middle class emphasise their difference from the working classes (from which many of them had recently risen) through embracing Scottish Standard English. Scots in its urban form therefore became a disparaged class-­associated dialect. A striking example of how these ideological forces are at work in relation to Scots can be found in the treatment of language in the North-­ East of Scotland. When I first moved to this region a little over twenty years ago, almost all local varieties – urban as well as rural – were termed the Doric, and were perceived as being spoken by both middle-­ and working-­class people, under the ‘correct’ social circumstances (and, in the countryside, by farming people on practically all occasions). My own experience was that, at least to an extent, this was the case. Over the period since then this social relationship has largely broken down in the city of Aberdeen, with many middle-­class people shifting entirely to Scottish Standard English while working-­class people – perhaps particularly in north Aberdeen – use the urban vernacular Toonser spik (otherwise Aiberdeen). ‘Doric’ is now essentially a rural variety. Most commentators, including speakers of the country varieties, are scathing about the urban speech. It nonetheless exhibits considerable covert prestige in the region. Many of the associations ‘Doric’ has are connected to the passing or past culture of the region. The Buchan Heritage Society, for instance, used to employ an image of a horse-­drawn plough and ploughman with the legend Dinna tyne it ‘don’t lose it’ as its motto; I have heard young people praised for their facility in the performance of traditional local ballads, even though they have turned out to use Scottish Standard English in their everyday speech on all occasions. None of this is damaging of itself, of course. There is a danger, however, that use of the local dialects will become associated solely with the past and therefore become a heritage item rather than part of a living tradition. Urban dialects of Scots have therefore often been dismissed as ‘ugly’, ‘debased’ forms of colloquial English with a Scots input which is largely phonological in nature. I have heard it suggested by hardline Scots language activists – in particular in relation to the Clydeside dialects – that Irish English was as important as Scots in their formation and development. I cannot be the only person who has suspected that some of these comments wear a linguistic mask to hide anti-­Catholicism (since the city



the sociolinguistics of scots 195

of Glasgow is the only place with a concentrated population in Scotland with a majority of the populace being Roman Catholic in background). At the same time, of course, urban varieties have considerable covert prestige in rural districts, particularly with the young. This means that what were previously urban features are now to be found in rural dialects. My mother, who was born in 1932, grew up in Lochwinnoch, at that time a medium-­sized village in south-­western Renfrewshire. She left the /njʌx/, as locals call it, in 1959, moving some ten kilometres to the edge of the Clydeside conurbation, where she lived until her death in 2007. For the period I knew her, her speech habits remained in line with a rural dialect of the Renfrewshire/Ayrshire borderlands; many of these features I assimilated myself in my childhood. She had a particular disdain for full glottalisation of medial and final /t/ (and to an extent /p/ and /k/), regularly correcting my brother and me when we produced this feature, which she considered ‘slovenly’ and ‘bad English’ (I have kept the habit of avoidance but not the linguistic attitude). If you visit Lochwinnoch now, however, it is unlikely that you would find many of these rural features in the speech of any local under the age of sixty; full glottalisation is rampant. Local people sound, to me, like urban speakers (this process is often described as the gravity model by linguists). This type of development does not make urban features any more attractive to middle-­class authority figures, such as schoolteachers. It is not surprising, therefore, that different attitudes have historically held sway for urban and rural Scots in education, a point to which we will return in the following section. 7.3  Education and language

The achievement of prestige through level of education has long been a feature of Scottish life. The lad o pairts, the boy from a poor background who achieves success through intelligence and hard work (and the paternalistic intervention of the dominie, the village schoolmaster, and the local minister), beloved of kailyard novels, is so central to Scotland’s self-­image as to have descended into cliché a long time ago (see Anderson 1985 for a critical dissection of the idea), even if there is some truth to the legend. It is remarkable, in fact, that a country as poor as Scotland was in the later middle ages should have had twice as many universities as the rather more affluent – and definitely more populous – England. Given the combination of this educational tradition and the Presbyterianism which most Scots embraced in the aftermath of the Protestant Reformation – a tradition which stressed in particular

196

modern scots

the need for believers (particularly, perhaps, male believers) to be able to read the Bible – it is probably unsurprising that literacy levels even in the eighteenth century were high in Scotland (and also among Ulster Presbyterians). This literacy was, however, wholly and uniquely related to the use of English (with the exception of Latin for those who were trained for certain professions). Given that at the time most Scottish people who were not native speakers of Gaelic spoke Scots as their first language, what were the results of this variety-­triggered use of varieties in formal (and, indeed, more domestic) teaching environments? Moreover, what was the legacy of this relationship? Throughout the modern period, a central tension in the Scottish schoolroom has been the place of the vernacular in an educational system based around the use of (Scottish) Standard English (for discussion see, for instance, Williamson 1982, 1983). From at least the end of the eighteenth century, when the cult of Burns and its associated Romantic tendencies began to make Scottish literature fashionable as a topic of study (a modishness given considerable impetus by the success and status – in Scotland and elsewhere – of the poetry and novels of Sir Walter Scott), the study of Scottish literature – including literature in Scots – became a fixture in Scottish schools (even when, as in the case of those establishments which served the (upper) middle classes of Edinburgh and Glasgow in particular, Scots was no longer the native code of at least most of the pupils). In general, until comparatively recently, most literature in Scots (primarily, although not exclusively, poetry) covered in the school syllabus (to some extent dictated by Scottish and local educational policies but also with considerable input both from individual schools and teachers) was rural in origin. To an extent this was inevitable: a highly limited amount of poetry written in urban vernaculars was published until the 1960s. A degree of conservatism was inherent in policies of this type, however. Even when I was at secondary school in the late 1970s and early 1980s, what literature in Scots we studied was overwhelmingly late eighteenth and early nineteenth century in origin and largely Burns (although, because we were based in Paisley, we did look at some of Tannahill’s poems, written a generation or so after Burns’ death). I can, however, remember reading Dunbar, but no MacDiarmid or any other participant in the interwar Scottish Renaissance who wrote in Scots. Partly I suspect this was lack of knowledge on the part of teachers (the teaching of Scottish literature at Scottish universities is often patchy, to put it mildly), partly perhaps an embrace of ‘cosmopolitan’ values at the expense of national by some English teachers; there may also have been



the sociolinguistics of scots 197

genuine worry about spreading the left-­wing ideals espoused by many Scottish writers in the twentieth century. Interestingly, however, the literature in urban Scots which we read was generally comic or at least sentimental in nature. Yet even though urban features were in a sense celebrated in the classroom, the similar features that my contemporaries used in their speech were most certainly not welcome in the same environment. These distinctions possess considerable time depth in relation to the development of educational policy in Scotland. This topic is well covered from a range of scholarly viewpoints, so only a brief summary need be given. For most of the twentieth century it was official policy in the Education Department of the Scottish Office for rural varieties to be welcome in the classroom under certain circumstances, often of a creative nature, while the use of urban dialects was interpreted as, under many circumstances, insubordination. Since the 1980s – and particularly, perhaps, since Scotland regained a degree of autonomy in 1999 – the discussion and expression of Scottish culture (including linguistic culture) has become both more acceptable and more prevalent, at least in relation to the policy presided over at a Scottish and local authority level. At the level of individual schools or teachers, matters might have been and may be different. The situation may have altered a little over the last few decades, but I suspect that how much literature in Scots a child is exposed to at school depends to a large extent upon his/her teacher and his/her school. This is not meant to suggest that most teachers (I would imagine the overwhelming majority) are in any way against Scots (although see Imamura 2004 for a highly nuanced discussion). But training is rare in these matters, while self-­confidence is low. A teacher who is not a Scots speaker (or a Scots speaker who speaks a dialect very different from that of his/ her students) may understandably hesitate from broaching the subject except in the most superficial way. Because of prior training (formal and informal, intended and unintentional), many teachers may interpret the directive towards the encouragement of Scots in the classroom as being wholly literary in nature and associated with the annual Burns’ Nicht festivities in January or with the visit of a well-­known author (indeed from personal experience, I can report the yearly contribution to the use of Scots by one schoolteacher – admittedly neither a Scots speaker nor from Scotland – to the learning by children in her class of a Scottish poem written in English). Teachers – and schools – are expected to cover a wide range of topics and themes. These take up time and may even be contradictory. Compartmentalisation and tokenism are inevitable and in many ways understandable (although whether a national

198

modern scots

vernacular spoken by at least 1.5 million people should be downplayed in such a manner is, of course, another debate). The fact that those expressions of the use of Scots provided by the Scottish educational authorities – such as the voluntary Scots paper in the Higher English and Communication examination (Corbett 2003: 268; recently, it should be noted, the Scottish Qualifications Agency (SQA) has been more effective in attracting potential candidates for its qualifications related to Scots rather further down the school curriculum) – are rarely if ever taken up may give us some sense of its status in the eyes even of the language’s speakers. There are some heartening initiatives in relation to Scots in the school, such as an ongoing project at Banff Academy in the North-­East. Again, however, projects of this type have a dedicated individual at their heart. It would probably not be unfair to define this type of circumstance as individual enterprise masquerading as official policy and practice. 7.4  Attitudes and awareness

Part of this issue seems to stem from lack of awareness. Speakers (and passive comprehenders) are of course highly aware of the linguistic diversity which surrounds them – they would not be human if they were not. But an awareness of what this diversity represents and how it should be analysed are far less prevalent. Although Scottish culture and language have been given greater weight within the education system from the 1990s on than was previously the case, the literary and historical concentration encouraged by the recommended (or prescribed) curriculum has regularly meant that certain social attitudes – such as that the local dialect is ‘slang’ – are highly prevalent (this is something which Lowing (2014) picks up on, although there are issues with her analysis, largely due to her partial (mis)interpretation of what constitutes Modern Scots). Writing about language attitudes towards Scots in the eighteenth century, McClure (1995b) proposed the concept of the Pinkerton syndrome: the profession of admiration – perhaps love – for poetry in Scots, while at the same time expressing disdain for the spoken vernacular (a viewpoint not confined to political or sociocultural reactionaries: Hugh MacDiarmid was not, to put it mildly, impressed by the urban Scots of his period). Underlying this issue lies a fundamental truth of modern Scottish society and culture, discussed at length in Millar (2010b) and elsewhere (Millar 2009b and 2011). Scots speakers are essentially divorced from what is written in Scots; modern literature in Scots is often perceived as distant from the everyday reality of most people’s language use. It is



the sociolinguistics of scots 199

in many ways regrettable that the grouping most associated with the cultural and political development of Scots was connected to modernist experimentation rather than the National Romanticism of the early to mid-­nineteenth century experienced in the Nordic nations, where the speech of the Volk was, at least in theory, at the heart of any literary endeavour. Some native Scots speakers may even assume that writers in Scots are not themselves speakers of the language – a suspicion that is occasionally true. Interest in ‘traditional culture’, in particular, perhaps, music, can also be perceived as an interest of the Scottish Standard English-­speaking middle classes, who only use Scots in song (Millar 2010b). When Scots is spoken in anything other than comic, sentimental or historical circumstances in mass media contexts, preferably by working-­class characters, it is treated by many as ‘pittin it on’ – a false representation which is not the speaker’s native code. This is even more the case in both the spoken and written contexts associated with the public and governmental spheres (except when the speaker is associated with traditional working-­class events, such as trade union rallies; even here, however, modulation between Scottish Standard English and the vernacular is both the norm and, perhaps, expected, as an analysis of the speeches of the late Jimmy Reid, a trade union leader during the Upper Clyde Shipbuilders’ action in the early 1970s, would demonstrate). When Scots is used – as on the website of the Scottish Government – many people, both native speakers and others, may find such a use strange; perhaps even risible. These observations bring us to another theme of this chapter: language policy and planning for Scots. 7.5  Language policy and planning

In a sense everything discussed up till now in this chapter helps to describe the present (or at least very recent) state of language actions and attitudes which make up a largely unconscious and occasionally unintended policy in relation to Scots (and to some extent Scottish Gaelic, although historical forces appear to have produced a rather different outcome); this could be an analysis of the primary reaction of the Westminster tradition (from which Scottish governmental practice descends) to language matters: (apparently benevolent) neglect, based upon the dictates of laissez-­faire. With the exception of the educational provision described above, meaningful activities designed to affect (and effect) the use of Scots in public spheres in particular have largely been carried out by non-­official organisations, groups and individuals. This has meant that many of

200

modern scots

these activities, fairly or unfairly, have been considered by some either as crankish or the hobby of the individuals involved (the very real possibility that under any circumstance active language policy for any language can be perceived by outsiders as eccentric – perhaps even monomaniacal – even when the actions involved are successful, must be borne in mind in these contexts). There are a number of fairly large organisations and units associated with the promotion of Scots. The first of these (and certainly that with the highest public profile) is what is now termed Scottish Language Dictionaries, itself a combination of the Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue, a multi-­volume dictionary concerned with the lexis of Scots before around 1700 (and thus not associated with our present purpose) and the Scottish National Dictionary, which deals with modern and contemporary usage, evidenced by both fieldwork and written use. While Scottish Language Dictionaries are concerned primarily with the development of the online Dictionary of the Scots Language, a combination and synthesis of the two projects previously mentioned, along with the exploitation of material derived from the Scottish National Dictionary, the organisation does conduct outreach activities into schools and elsewhere, a process central to status planning. It has to be said, however, that the stance Scottish Language Dictionaries takes as the primary witness of usage may lend itself to a more conservative and cultural (rather than political or administrative) approach to Scots policy. This was demonstrated during the debates about a Scots orthography during the 1990s and later. The name of the Scots Language Society suggests an organisation along the same lines as the Norsk mållag ‘Norwegian language society’, which is dedicated to the development, acquisition and spread of a specifically Norwegian language (Nynorsk ‘Modern Norwegian’), its primary (although by no means sole) role being related to governmental and legislative matters. The Scots Language Society, however, has a far more literary focus than its Norwegian equivalent. Indeed, until 1972, the forerunner to the present organisation was the Makars’ Club, makar being the (early) Scots term for ‘poet’. This creative imperative is maintained. The Society’s primary outlet is Lallans (itself, as we have seen, an alternative name for Scots), a collection of poetry, prose and some reviews, all written exclusively in Scots, published three to four times a year in a high-­quality illustrated format which remains resolutely print based and available only by subscription, despite the prevailing tendency towards online low-­cost or free availability for most works of this type. The quality of published work is variable, although at best it is excellent. Although a descendant of some of the initiatives framed



the sociolinguistics of scots 201

by MacDiarmid and his disciples in the Scottish Renaissance, including maintaining an interest in ‘synthetic Scots’, editorial decisions on inclusion seem to be based primarily on literary ability rather than ideology – a number of contributions to each volume are written in regional dialect; on occasion this includes urban dialects. The Scots Language Society also organises an annual collogue (normally held in Perth in the Library in which the Scots Language Centre is based). Local associations also exist, organising regular meetings across each year (although the very presence of these organisations and their vitality seems to be based primarily on the willingness to organise on the part of a relatively small number of enthusiasts). The overwhelming (although not sole) subject matter of most of these meetings is literary or cultural. While debate about language policy and planning at a national level does occur (I took part in one such discussion in 2014), it has never assumed, and does not ever seem likely to assume, the position of language planning and policy committee and organisation assumed for similar organisations elsewhere in Europe and beyond by similar organisations. The Scots Language Society has also published a considerable number of recordings of, in essence, recitations of the work of writers in Scots. These were originally available on cassette, but are now primarily marketed through the medium of compact discs. The Scots Language Centre presents a rather more language-­based approach to Scots. Originally named the Scots Language Resource Centre, it is housed in the Bell Library in Perth and has a considerable collection of paper materials which are available for consultation by members of the public. Over the last ten to fifteen years, however, it has moved many of its operations on to the web (and is therefore at variance with the Scots Language Society which remains committed to print and essentially analogue technologies). While maintaining its mission to provide resources in and on (particularly contemporary) Scots, it has altered its position – under the forward-­thinking direction of Michael Hance – in the direction of campaigning for Scots and Scots speakers. This was particularly the case in the build-­up to the Scottish Census of 2011, the first to contain a question on the use of Scots. Its innovative Aye Can campaign encouraged – with very limited funds wisely used – an awareness of what Scots is through the harnessing of (normally video) recordings of speakers of a range of urban and rural Scots dialects (these recordings also serving the role of documenting the language in the early twenty-­first century). Another potential guardian and promoter of the Scots language is the Association for Scottish Literary Studies (ASLS). Despite its name, the ASLS claims a stake in Scottish linguistic matters. It is the home

202

modern scots

of Scottish Language, the only scholarly journal dedicated solely to the study of all of Scotland’s languages, current and historical. Despite the journals’s broad remit, most of the subjects covered are in some way connected to the use of Scots. The organisation also sponsors a regular (often annual) one-­day conference on language, although the topic is often skewed towards literary language. The ASLS also regularly publishes work in Scots, including submissions to New Writing Scotland. Inevitably, of course, this published work is practically wholly literary. Organisations dedicated to Scottish culture and language do, therefore, exist. It needs to be recognised that none of those mentioned here really takes a proactive stance on Scots, however. There is a strong sense that the primary concerns of the users and purveyors of the language should focus on preservation and literary production. While neither of these is in any way a bad thing, an outsider might see the present state and orientation of the guardians of the language as being connected to a comfortable, often government supported, establishment niche. That a judgement of this type is in many ways unfair should not blind us to the effects such a perception might have on the development of Scots. Possibly as part of the general movement towards national renewal felt in Scotland from the early 1990s on, a generation of activists grew up who were committed to the promotion of the Scots language as a living part of Scottish everyday life rather than as part of a literary monument. While many of these new activists took some part in the Scots Language Society activities presented at both local and national levels, I think it would be fair to say that many of this new breed found the organisation (and others of its type) sclerotic, slightly (and probably unconsciously) cliquish and to a large extent happy in its small niche of cultural insignificance. From this dissatisfaction and frustration were born new, highly localised, units such as Aiberdeen Universitie Scots Leid Quorum and Scots Tung. Originally ‘analogue’, in the sense that most activities were carried out face to face or by the circulation of samizdat-­style publications, the opportunities provided by the proliferation of access to the internet from the mid-­1990s on allowed a fairly small number of activists to reach a wide audience (although there was always the danger that many readers of the work broadcast by one unit were actually members of other units rather than ‘normal’ speakers of the language: a near classic example of the echo chamber effect). These web-­based units were often termed curns, cells; indeed many activists may have seen themselves, to alter Mao, as ‘language activists swimming in a Scots-­speaking sea’, heroically defending the barricades in an ongoing struggle for the hearts and minds of Scots-­speaking communities from within those communities rather than through the promotion



the sociolinguistics of scots 203

of the acceptance of a suburban literary fixation. (I quickly add that what I am presenting are caricatures and that I do not personally subscribe to any or all of these views and interpretations.) Whether everyday Scots speakers would have agreed with the accuracy of associations of this type is another matter; the level of awareness they had and have of the activist movement and the work of individual activists needs also to be problematised. While much curn-­like activity continues for Scots, it could be argued that the ‘golden age’ of this type of activism is now passed. Partly this is due to the effects of time. The ‘Young Turks’ of the 1990s are now in their forties and fifties; many are committed to careers and families. One is now a senior figure in the Scottish Government. In a sense the sclerotic tendency they perceived in the twentieth century-­oriented organisations has now affected them. As important, however, has been the growing interest taken in Scots by the Scottish Government over the last ten years, a point to which we will return later in this chapter. In a sense, many of the goals of the ‘new activism’ have been achieved, even if their outcome was rather different from what was expected. 7.5.1  Scots and the theory and practice of language policy and planning

Although the relatively low levels of activism for the language (and the small number of activists) is a problem for the development of policy for Scots, other issues lie at the heart of the problem. In a sense these could be trivialised as ‘what exactly are we trying to do?’ What are the purposes of language policy and planning? This type of question is not peculiar to Scotland and Scots, but its effects are probably exacerbated by the unusual position of Scots in both historical and contemporary life. It is not enough just to say that you, as a language activist or language organisation, wish to ‘save’ a language. This is, to be honest, as meaningful as saying that the cessation of wars and conflicts is an attractive goal. Of course both statements are worthy and correct, but they do not stipulate any activity to assure the goal. They therefore can remain pieties, much beloved by politicians. Actions of whatever sort need a framework and a plan of some kind; otherwise, it is all just talk. Many of the issues identified here have come about because Scots language activists (and speakers for that matter) have not developed a full understanding of the theoretical and practical issues associated with language policy and planning. Sociologists of language recognise three types of language planning

204

modern scots

(although they are also aware, of course, that each of the following forms can interact – or not interact – with any of the others and that continua rather than boundaries lie between the types): corpus planning, status planning and acquisition planning (see Millar 2005 for further discussion). Corpus planning is often what outsiders consider to be ‘language planning’, since it regularly affects public awareness of language in ways which other planning activities do not. It is concentrated primarily upon the linguistic nature of the chosen language variety. This can be at any level of language – lexical, phonological or morphosyntactic – as well as in relation to how the variety is written. In the mid-­1990s, for instance, governmental and educational authorities within the German-­speaking world announced and promoted a number of relatively small-­scale changes in the spelling system of that language. The idea, as far as anyone can tell with this type of policy, was to make the spelling system of German (which was already quite straightforward in comparison with languages like English or French) more systematic and logical. That the reform was almost entirely unsuccessful because of a combination of forces within local and regional political units, the media and an apparently spontaneous wave of public discontent is not the point at issue here; rather, it is the fact that change in linguistic behaviour was felt to be a function of the activity of governments and other organisations (for a discussion, see Johnson 2005). The problem of corpus planning, therefore, is in the process of implementation rather than the materials and changes being planned (although these are sometimes less well thought out than they might have been). Corpus planning by its nature attracts hobbyists, people who have an interest both in a particular linguistic variety and in a rather hermetic and cerebral existence; perhaps unfairly it could be compared to the inventions of languages and scripts a small number of people take part in (from which only Esperanto and a few languages associated with fantasy genres have ever achieved much currency). Sometimes – as was the case in nineteenth-­century Norway – a popular groundswell can bring these concerns into the heart of the public sphere. This is not always the case, however; I have sometimes thought that some planners may not even want their creations to be publicly tested. Status planning may often be less discussed in the public sphere than corpus planning and might also be less obvious to users, since it does not really affect the way people write or speak their language. What it is designed to do is to build up the prestige of a particular language variety in comparison with others or another. Thus, in the middle of the 1970s the Catalan language did not really need corpus planning. Due to a series of initiatives in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries



the sociolinguistics of scots 205

Catalan had a standardised orthography, a developed vocabulary and a sense of a standard grammar, at least in the written form. What the language needed was a considerable rise in prestige. Under the Franco regime (which ruled all of Spain from 1939 to 1975), ‘regional languages’ and their use were suppressed (although it would have to be recognised that some degree of ‘liberalism’ was allowed in these matters from the 1960s on). This enforced dialectalisation was particularly harsh because Catalan, with its hundreds of thousands of speakers and standardised written form, was the only real threat to the status of Castilian Spanish – languages like Galician were nowhere near as developed and were also associated with an inherently conservative peasantry. Moreover, Catalonia had continued the armed struggle in support of the legitimate Spanish government against Franco and other rebels the longest. Its rich and varied political traditions and tendency towards at least autonomy in relation to Madrid was in many senses coupled to the region’s demographic and particularly linguistic plurality. In the years following the return of democracy, the government of Catalonia moved to increase the public standing of Catalan, building a status which would make it at least the equal of Castilian within Catalonia (similar developments took place in other territories, such as Valencia and the Balearic Islands, although in those cases the planning efforts were not as closely connected to political nationalism as was the case in Catalonia). A considerable amount of government funding was involved in the process, but this was obviously considered worthwhile in relation to the rebuilding of a strong and assertive Catalonia. The activities involved two separate but interrelated populations. The first was the large minority of speakers of dialects much closer to Castilian than Catalan: Barcelona was (and is) the most prosperous city in Spain; this prosperity has led to large-­scale immigration from southern Spain in particular. At the same time, two generations of natives of Catalonia had grown up writing only Castilian and being taught that Catalan was an uncouth dialect with anti-­Christian associations, even if they, as most did, continued to use the latter variety in their everyday speech. To raise status and encourage use, the Catalan government quickly found that a carrot-­based (rather than a stick-­based) approach was best: encouraging the former group to speak Catalan and the latter group to write in it was primarily a matter of tax breaks and quicker promotion for those who followed the government’s intended path towards equality of status between the official language of Spain and the official language of Catalonia. (This situation has been much covered in scholarly analysis. An interesting recent treatment can be found in Pradilla 2015.)

206

modern scots

This last example leads us on to acquisition planning. Initially this term was employed to refer to the tasks faced by Zionist (later Israeli) educators and administrators in creating a Hebrew-­speaking population from a group of people who were probably among the most linguistically (and culturally) diverse ever assembled in one place at the same time (for a recent discussion, see Spolsky 2014: chapter 16). How do you get people to learn a language without aggravating them through obvious governmental control – as happened in relation to Irish in Ireland? This is certainly the situation faced by the Catalan government in relation to Castilian speakers. How can you persuade native speakers of Castilian that they should learn Catalan when practically all Catalan speakers speak Castilian and that variety is the official language of Spain as a whole? But another interpretation of acquisition planning is possible. How do you go about getting people to acquire your new spelling system for their native language or to alter its standing in relation to other languages? This is the stage at which many corpus planning initiatives have fallen down. To put it bluntly, the speaker and his/her needs and views are often only considered at this point. Unless you happen to be a language planner in a dictatorship wedded to radical and rapid change, such as Kemalist Turkey in the 1920s and 1930s (Lewis 1999), you ignore the speaker at your peril. But how can we truly consider the views of the speaker when the speaker is not well-­informed about the debate in which planners are involved? Grin suggested in a range of work published early this century (see, for instance, Grin 2003) that language policy (indeed any public policy) designed to be successful must be efficient, cost-­efficient and democratic. We have covered these issues unconsciously to some extent already. Efficiency is not to be understood in a strict ‘time and motion’ way. Instead, it refers largely to the understanding of what needs to be done, how best to achieve the intended goals and the time involved in the activity. As we have seen, a number of language planning and policy enterprises have failed primarily because they did not have realistic goals or the actors had not thought through the processes necessary to achieve the intended outcomes. Cost-­effectiveness is also open to misinterpretation. It is not, Grin says, a matter of penny-­pinching; rather, it is a matter of achieving the best possible value from the resources at hand. This implies intelligence. It is more cost-­effective to spend £3.5 million on a project that succeeds as a result of intelligent and informed planning than £2,500 on one that does not succeed, largely because of poor planning. It seems almost axiomatic that policy needs to be democratic; it is a piety of our age to act according to those precepts. Grin’s point is more



the sociolinguistics of scots 207

subtle, however. Without a groundswell of public support for the policy suggested, its likelihood of success is lessened significantly. In the case of Turkey after the First World War, the rapid language reforms proposed and carried out by Kemalist agents throughout the country did not have democratic support but success in general was achieved. Literacy in any Turkish variety was low in the country at the time; however, there was significant support for language reform among the liberal and radical elements of the literate. The fact that Mustafa Kemal himself was an enthusiast for reform would have helped (for a discussion of these issues, see Lewis 1999). More ‘normal’ in terms of undemocratic policy and planning being rejected is the German spelling reform discussed above. A highly literate population rejected what they considered to be an unnecessary imposition. Most language planning for Scots has been essentially focused on corpus development. In the 1920s, as we have seen, MacDiarmid and a number of his followers stressed the need for a ‘synthetic Scots’ – basing his ideas on the factors which fed into what would eventually become the Nynorsk variant of Norwegian (although it could be argued that they did not fully understand the processes Ivar Aasen and his successors used to produce their alternative standard), a variety which included the best parts of the dialects but was a synthesis, not an attempt to treat one dialect as, to use Joseph (1987)’s terminology, synecdochic, from which a standard could be produced. A process of this type is entirely in line with the major European standardisation efforts of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The problem is, however, that the situation in which Scots was placed after the Great War was fundamentally different from that of practically all other newly standardised languages that emerged during this period. Some of these issues had nothing to do with the actions of the language planners or their construct: as we have already seen, literacy – in English – was high by the time the process was attempted, for instance. Other problems were an integral part of the process, however. MacDiarmid himself, despite his rhetoric, was hardly a consistent user of ‘synthetic Scots’; his avowed dislike of the use of the ‘natural’ dialects in literature did not help matters, moreover, since it apparently disenfranchised (and certainly irritated) many writers and users of the language. The baroque excesses of some purveyors of ‘synthetic Scots’ in the following generation problematised the issue. It is likely that a practical plan to develop and spread the proposed standard through contacts with native speakers and educational and governmental ­institutions was never truly considered. Rather less grandiose ambitions were considered in the aftermath of

208

modern scots

the Second World War by the Makars’ Club (the forerunner, as we have seen, of today’s Scots Language Society); on this occasion the primary focus was spelling. The spelling of Scots (as discussed admirably and with a justified degree of cynicism by Bann and Corbett 2015) was, and indeed remains, something of an issue. There were strong tendencies towards an autonomous spelling system for Scots developing in the sixteenth centuries. Some of these have remained in use, such as the employment of following a vowel to mark vowel length; while vowel length in Scots (and Scottish Standard English) is not as straightforward now as it was 500 years ago, the tradition remains in the use of for /did/ ‘dead’. These survivals were much outweighed, however, by Anglicisms in the spelling employed by the purveyors of the eighteenth-­century ‘vernacular revival’. In order to facilitate the reading of their work by people who were primarily – probably wholly – literate in English, an orthography based on English models was employed; where Scots differed from English – in particular in its treatment of syllable final post-­vocalic /l/ – an apostrophe was employed, so that the equivalent of fall was represented by fa’. As we saw in Chapter 6 in particular, practice of this type has many advantages; an unfortunate side effect, however, is that it represented natural linguistic divergence (on the part of both Scots and English) as representing Scots as a malformed variety of English. Despite this (but very likely primarily because of the status of Burns in Scotland and beyond), this spelling system (if it can be termed such) remains the primary model for writing Scots up to the present day, in particular when used in popular culture and ‘folk’ poetry. Surprisingly (or perhaps not, given the many inconsistencies which litter any account of his artistic and personal life), MacDiarmid, despite his talk of a return to the Scottish literature of the Renaissance and his sometimes open disdain for Burns (matched by an almost obsessive interest in his predecessor’s work and life), employed the spelling conventions of that tradition throughout his own poetry in Scots. To be fair, few of his disciples – and, indeed, detractors – followed this conservative practice. The damage had already been done, however. What the Makars’ Club was probably trying to do in 1948 was set up a means by which the traditional, ‘Burnsian’, spelling model could be brought in line with the more ‘progressive’ models espoused by radical writers. The proposals made are modest, amounting essentially to a repudiation of the ‘apostrophe tradition’ which so marred written Scots. It was designed, however, primarily for an audience writing ‘arts Scots’ and had a limited (to be generous) effect on the writing of Scots outside these circles. It was not systemic and – a common failing – took little if



the sociolinguistics of scots 209

any interest in the issues which representing often phonologically distinct dialect pronunciations with the same orthography might provoke. From the late 1980s on, new orthographic initiatives began to appear, including those associated with McClure (1997), Allan (1995) and, most radically, Stirling (1994). Different though these systems are, they all at least attempt to approach a systematic awareness of the phonological system of Scots (although Stirling’s model in particular lacks a full sense of the language’s dialectal diversity and what this means for the representation of, for instance, the BUIT vowel). These efforts culminated in the mid-­1990s with the creation of an orthographic committee, jointly sponsored by the Scots Language Society and the Scots Language Resource Centre, under the chair of J. Derrick McClure (a highly respected academic analyst, as well as a literary purveyor, of Scots). The intention was that the orthography developed would act as a systematic representation of Scots that would be both distinctive (in comparison to the English orthographic system) and easy to learn. Its members also recognised from an early point that the system – at least in the short and medium term – had to interact with English spelling, with the English model being primary for users (since it would be first taught in school and most encountered on a day-­to-­day basis). It would be disheartening – and also tedious – to recount the problems which developed during the life of the spelling committee. The most important point to be noted was that, by the time its recommendations were published in 1999, a major player in the Scots language ‘movement’, the Scottish National Dictionary Association, had withdrawn from the process and, along with a number of high profile allies, began to question the acceptance of a system which, I get the impression, was too radical in its scope for its acceptance by them. This is a great pity, since the system proposed was an impressive one, demonstrating considerable insight and thought. Naturally, disagreements of this type did not help to lessen the movement’s associations with crankishness for observers from the ‘real world’. In the general Scottish context the committee and its recommendations sank like a stone. This issue – unlikely to be resolved any time in the near future – reveals a vital fault line in the Scots language movement. In other work (Millar 2005) I have portrayed this as a struggle between governmental and cultural parties. The latter groupings see the use of Scots as a literary vehicle or as a means of expressing traditional cultural knowledge and use as a way of increasing the language’s status; the governmental party, on the other hand, sees the use of the language at all levels of administration and government in Scotland as being at the heart of a revival of Scots as a national and official language. This portrayal is of course

210

modern scots

carried out with a broad brush. In fact a continuum exists between hard core ‘believers’ on either side and moderates from both wings who share many ideas (I, for instance, would consider myself a moderate governmental: I understand, and am sympathetic towards, cultural arguments but feel that in concentrating on them we may be putting the cart before the horse). The vital point which needs to be made here is not that there is dissent within the movement – this is inevitable and possibly even to be wished for, since there is often strength in diversity. The problem lies in the fact that elements within the activist community appear willing to sacrifice potential gains in the name of personal principle. This is particularly damning when, for the first time since the end of the sixteenth century, the Scottish governmental establishment is willing to listen to arguments for at the very least status planning for Scots. 7.5.2  Devolved Scottish government and language policy and planning

Over the last twenty-­five years, Scots has benefited from a range of different initiatives at a variety of different governmental levels. Probably the most significant – although not necessarily the one which brought about the greatest number of results – was the recognition by the United Kingdom government in 2001 of Scots as a language needing protection, as part of a general ratification of the Council of Europe’s Charter for Regional or Minority Languages (for a discussion, see Millar 2006). Whatever the motives for this recognition, flying in the face as it did of centuries of (lack of) language policy by British governments, ratification of the Charter at the very least demanded action by Scottish national and local administrations. Under the two Scottish Labour-­Scottish Liberal Democrat administrations which followed devolution, the requirements stipulated by the Charter for Scots (although not for Gaelic) were taken less than seriously. The second report to the Council of Europe of 2006 is, to be frank, an embarrassing document in relation to the Scottish situation: it is poorly proof-­read, conflates Scots and Gaelic on a number of occasions and betrays a near-­complete lack of understanding – or interest – in relation to language in general. If not exactly hostile (although this did bubble just under the surface at times), the Scottish Executive demonstrated little or no interest in Scots as a national project. The election of a Scottish National Party administration in 2007 in a sense represented a major shift. A party whose remit primarily coincided with the country and its culture(s) was essentially committed to working for Scotland’s two languages. It could be argued that



the sociolinguistics of scots 211

this is exactly what the Government has proceeded to do; the level of success is debatable, however. Most importantly, perhaps, the world economic crisis from 2007 on led to a severe tightening of Scottish purse strings. Committed to a range of social initiatives (in which it was in considerable and increasingly marked disagreement with the Westminster administration) and focused on achieving at the very least greater autonomy, the amount of money and attention the government could give to Scots was limited. Nevertheless, attempts were made to see what needed to be done for the language. This included putting a question on Scots use in the census of 2011. Perhaps the most significant act of the Government was in the creation of four posts dedicated to the promotion of Scots in schools. As I write this, however, this initiative has been scaled down (see Eunson 2017). What must be recognised, however, is that most of these policies tend more towards the cultural than the governmental pole. There is no sense that the initiative is committed to a secure position for the language in Scottish official life. 7.6  Ulster Scots: language status, policy and planning

Ulster Scots and its speakers present a rather different – although comparable – situation. As we have noted on a number of occasions throughout this book, these varieties of Scots are, unlike their Scottish equivalents, not spoken in territory controlled by one administration. At present an international border runs through the Irish Scots-­speaking community. While the Irish ‘peace dividend’ has made this border rather less significant – the eastern parts of the Laggan are now economically and intrinsically connected to Derry City in ways that were not possible before 1998 – the reality of the two jurisdictions under which Scots exists in Ireland has a number of knock-­on effects for the language on that island, however. In the Republic of Ireland as a whole, Scots speakers and the forms of language they use are essentially insignificant demographically (and to a degree geographically, since they are confined to a small pocket in the north-­west of the country). Indeed, my personal experience is that, even in nearby parts of Co. Donegal, most people are neither aware of, nor at all interested in, their Scots-­speaking neighbours, their culture nor, particularly, their language. As part of the Belfast Agreement of 1998, the government of the Irish Republic guaranteed some support for Scots within its territory. This was strengthened by the recognition of the language within the Republic’s commitments under the Council of Europe Charter for Regional or Minority Languages. Ireland takes its cultural and linguistic obligations seriously: Scots speakers within

212

modern scots

the Republic’s territory are not discriminated against; nor is use of the language curtailed in any way. But the history of Ireland as a whole and the ideology of the founding fathers and mothers of the Republic in particular (and, it has to be recognised, their Unionist opponents) has led to the development of an ideological antithesis between Irish and English as symbols of identity that does not really permit the intrusion of Scots into the national linguistic (and cultural) dialectic. In Northern Ireland, however, Scots speakers make up a significant minority; their presence is even more prominent within the Protestant community. Moreover, Scottish identity is often used as an ­alternative (or additive) element in the construction of Protestant – perhaps particularly Loyalist – identity, in contradistinction to the ‘perfidy’ of the British Government in relation to Ulster politics. Scots is, in a sense, an ideological vehicle by which some Unionists demand (and to a degree receive) parity with the elevation of status of the Irish language expected by Nationalists. I suspect that many Unionists are at best agnostic in this matter; nevertheless it remains a means by which Protestants can present a positive, specifically Ulster, identity. In the aftermath of the Belfast Agreement of 1998, Ulster Scots gained official recognition. A language authority was established (Boord o Ulstèr-­ Scotch). With the resumption of devolved rule which followed, Ulster Scots received considerably more official recognition in Northern Ireland than Scots as a whole did in Scotland. It became, for instance, a language of record for the Northern Ireland Assembly; governmental material was available in the language. It is also not an uncommon experience to find towns and villages (in particular perhaps the latter) having welcome signs in Scots as well as English (and often Irish) – I have seen these on occasion even in those areas where Scots has never been an ongoing presence, such as Tyrone and Fermanagh. Yet issues remain for the status and preservation of the language. Perhaps the most significant of these is the relative invisibility of Scots in Northern Ireland. It is paradoxical that, as its official status has grown, the urbanised and English-­speaking nature of the vast majority of the inhabitants of the province has meant that Scots speakers – normally rural and generally ageing – are significant only in their lack of representation at the centre. Indeed many members of the new establishment are given to sneering at the very idea that there is any such thing as Ulster Scots; the ideological association with a Protestant identity at odds with the essentially liberal forms of Unionism espoused by the opinion-­forming Protestant middle classes probably does not



the sociolinguistics of scots 213

help matters (for an effective analysis of these and other issues, see Mccall 2002). Language policy and planning for Ulster Scots in Northern Ireland has not been entirely helpful either. In the early days of its status as a quasi-­official variety, the governmental translation effort was dominated by Scots language activists – often from Scotland, it should be noted – who used the opportunity to develop a particularly ‘synthetic’ form, based to a considerable extent on an updating of sixteenth-­or seventeenth-­century forms of the language. There was practically nothing Ulster about the language used. It was generally perplexing – indeed probably offensive – to native speakers (who were already confused by the decreed need for translation from English, since they were all native speakers of that variety as well). It presented the language’s detractors with an excellent tool for ridicule. Although the issue was quickly sorted out (more recent translations and announcements have been couched in a much more ‘hamely’ way), the damage had been done (a number of the papers included in Kirk and Ó Baóill (2005) provide a useful ‘snapshot’ of the dialect as it went through these changes and issues; for a discussion of present policy for the language, see Männystrie o Fowkgates, Airts an Aisedom (2015); for a more practical discussion, see Department for Infrastructure (NI) (2016)). How long the present policy can continue is difficult to say, however. 7.7  Some final thoughts

But while the language began to be developed through language planning and policy, Scots continued to be under threat sociolinguistically – in both Scotland and Ireland. What, then, are likely to be the futures of the language in the two countries in the future? We will return to this issue in the next chapter. Exercises

For the following you are likely to find most material on the internet. Bear in mind, however, that, while print sources are not devoid of them, web resources are likely to have strong ideological connections. 1. Compare and contrast the planning and policy decisions made for Scots in Northern Ireland and Scotland. 2. To what extent is a ‘universal’ spelling system for Scots possible? What are the issues which make its achievement difficult? 3. Compare and contrast the development of language policy and

214

modern scots

­ lanning for Scots in two local authorities. You may, if you wish, take p an historical approach to their development. You might prefer to compare policy and planning in Scotland or Ireland alone, although a comparison between the two might also prove productive.

8  Scots: a once and future language?

8.1  The future

In a sense we are faced with two competing future scenarios in relation to the development of Scots, neither of which is likely to be fulfilled in its entirety. The first offers brilliant prospects. In Scotland, Scots comes to receive at least as much status and legal and financial support as Gaelic. Its study becomes the norm in all Scottish schools where Gaelic is not the primary means of instruction. Over time, Scots achieves the same status in Scotland as Catalan has in Catalonia, although a state of bilingualism with Standard English is both a daily reality and something actively encouraged by the Scottish Government in the name of international cooperation and trade. This series of events would be entirely plausible in a Scotland which retained some ties to the United Kingdom; it might be more likely in an independent Scotland, an eventuality not impossible in the medium future, given the present political tensions within these islands. There are issues with the achievement of this state, however. In the first instance, it is difficult to see how generations of neglect by governmental and educational forces could be overturned, coupled to the literary and cultural focus so prevalent in the activist movement, so wholly and quickly. Merely increasing the level of education about and in Scots within the school system would be a heavy and probably costly burden, taking considerable amounts of planning to implement; even then, the goals might not be attainable. Moreover, it is dangerous to assume that all Scots speakers in Scotland (never mind all people resident in Scotland) actually want this bilingual scenario to come into being, no matter how committed they might be to Scotland in other ways. While I suggested in the last chapter that Grin’s idea that language policy needs to be democratic should be analysed carefully, imposition of such a radical change in policy, associated with a particularly sweeping revision of the educational system, would need a 215

216

modern scots

considerable undercurrent of support for the policies and ideas involved which I suspect would not be present in the Scottish population. It also ignores the fact that many – perhaps the majority – of residents of Scotland do not speak Scots (the 1.5 million speakers reported in the 2011 Census is probably conservative, but even another 500,000 speakers would imply a (large) minority rather than a majority). How are these people to be ‘converted’? It is probably wrong to assume that lack of active ability in Scots implies hostility to the language and its promotion; such hostility is present for some people, however. I have occasionally come across this type of view; sometimes the reaction against Scots can be visceral. Moreover, many people who live in Scotland who are not Scots speakers are also not native speakers of English. Although immigrants to countries that do not have English as their primary language would be expected to use the dominant local language rather than the international one, such a viewpoint (while occasionally heard from activists) is perverse in relation to a country like Scotland where Standard English is the everyday language of literacy and official and external communication for practically all residents. It should also be noted, however, that many immigrants develop an impressive command of the dialect of where they live and work, even when this might be unconscious. Finally, this scenario does not recognise that many distinctive features of the Scots dialects are already fading, a point to which we will now turn. It is entirely possible that what exactly an official language policy and concomitant planning would promote as ‘the Scots language’ would be very different from the spoken use of most speakers of local varieties. Similar issues could be raised for Scots in Ireland. In Northern Ireland, Scots would be taught throughout the province, including in places where it was not historically spoken. The language would be given real support from central and local government. Scots regions would be created where English would be treated as an external language. In the Republic, Scotstachts would be established which would mirror the existing Gaeltachts. Given the sociolinguistic issues related to Ulster Scots detailed in the last chapter, however, provisions of this type are very unlikely to be successful, while being most likely to be very unpopular, both among the general populace and the native speaker community. The other prevalent forecast for the future of Scots represents the complete opposite: the language will essentially disappear, replaced by a form of colloquial English which contains token features derived from the former dialects. Elements of this prediction are probably correct. In 2012, for instance, the last acknowledged speaker of the Scots of



scots : a once and future l anguage ? 217

Cromarty on the Black Isle, Mr Bobby Hogg, died. While the concept of dialect death is markedly more difficult to unpick than that of language death – not least because the event (or series of events) is much more readily verifiable when open water exists between the variety which has replaced the original variety and that variety. This event (if that is the right word to use) certainly drew a line under the highly distinctive local Scots. Younger members of the (former) fishing community in Cromarty do speak a variety which can be termed Scots. This appears to derive primarily from the dialects spoken on the opposite side of the Moray Firth, such as those of Nairn and western Moray, however. All of the other Scots dialects have, of course, much larger speaker populations than was ever the case with Cromarty, even when the fishing community was discrete and the fishing was still vibrant. Nevertheless, it is possible to see an accommodation between colloquial English and the local Scots dialects, in particular in urban areas but also increasingly in the countryside. The technical term for this set of developments is koineisation. A variety which is neither Standard English nor (traditional) Scots is coming into being with the creation of what Dutch commentators refer to as a tissentaal, a ‘between language’, which is neither at one or other end of the everyday linguistic continuum, but somewhere in the middle, containing features of the two original entities which formed it. In the North-­East of Scotland, it is quite common to hear younger people using a variety that contains features of the local dialect – largely phonological, such as the use of /f/ for words, but also some morphosyntactic and lexical features, such as the lack of an overt plural for this and that or the employment of a word like quine ‘girl, young woman’ – but that in other ways is largely indistinguishable from other forms of colloquial English. Some commentators are inclined to interpret evidence of this type as representing an ongoing process which will lead to (near) total linguistic homogenisation. My own view is that this overstates the argument. I cannot foresee a time when the great majority of people will not wish to establish their origins and identity through their speech. Much which makes local dialects distinctive is likely to continue. The situation in Ulster is very similar to that of Scotland, with the additional issue that the language does not have national associations in either jurisdiction (along with some sectarian associations in Northern Ireland). It is true that more has been done for Ulster Scots than with Scots in Scotland in relation to governmental and administrative support. As we have seen, however, this promotion has not been an unalloyed success. The lack of recognition for the language as such even by its native speakers may result – has probably already resulted – in

218

modern scots

the type of koineisation mentioned above in relation to Scotland; given the smaller populations of Scots speakers in Ireland and their lack of urban concentration, this is likely to be more rapid than was the case in Scotland. It would be a sad day if Scots ceased to exist as a recognisably discrete entity. Nonetheless, its future lies in the hands of its native speakers rather than officials or activists. The passing on of local dialects from parents to children is worth many times more than any policy document. But without external input, it is difficult to see how this transfer can be guaranteed. It is unlikely to be a straightforward or even popular process. It is still possible, however, at least in some regions of Scotland and, indeed (although this might be more difficult), Ulster. 8.2  Some final thoughts: Nec tamen consumebatur

In this book we have considered the Scots language from a variety of different viewpoints. We have thought of it as a linguistic entity, subject to geographical and social variation across the various levels of its system, in constant and ongoing contact with its close relative (Scottish) Standard English. We have also considered Scots as a sociolinguistic entity – subject to variation and change, as well as attempts towards active agency and advocacy for the written form. Naturally, and probably predictably, it is very difficult to produce an entirely coherent set of conclusions. In a sense, this issue represents the purpose of this book: it was not planned to present an argument which would be upheld by its contents; my intentions were inherently descriptive. Nevertheless, it is possible to present a small number of observations on the (socio) linguistics of both Scots and other lesser-­used languages. Scots is spoken in diverse ways by a diverse set of speakers. In a number of senses, Scots is flourishing as it has not done for centuries. It is the native tongue of a considerable number of people in Scotland and Ireland. Its written form is increasingly sucessful in literature and, probably more importantly, is beginning to be used in non-­literary contexts. The language has administrative support, coupled to educational provision, in all the territories in which it is spoken. It is ‘healthier’ than many other lesser-­used languages in similar contexts. Everywhere it is spoken, Scots is in danger of disappearing as a discrete entity. Due to inputs from a variety of (socio-­)linguistic forces, Scots is no longer being kept separate as a system for most speakers; instead, koineisation with colloquial forms of (Standard) English



scots : a once and future l anguage ? 219

is taking place. As we have seen, this process is by no means unusual in highly literate areas where speakers inherit input from two closely related varieties with unequal social status. It is likely that the Scottish (and Ulster) linguistic map will be strikingly different in 2100 from what it was in 2000, in a way that was not the case between 1900 and the latter date. The outcome is unlikely to be a complete victory (if that is the right word) for Standard English, however. Most people will continue to travel along a continuum deeply influenced by differing densities of Scots. I would predict, however, that the language will only successfully survive in its traditional forms in those environments where geographical separation or cultural and occupational discreteness (or possibly both) come into play. In a sense this is what we already have; far fewer speakers of traditional dialects will be present, however. The (socio)linguistics of Scots and the study of lesser-­used languages. In comparison with similar linguistic ecologies, such as those found in Norway, the Scots-­speaking world presents a useful portrait of what laissez-­faire attitudes and policies towards a socially disadvantaged kin tongue produces. Beyond this sociolinguistic point, however, the study of Scots demonstrates how a fruitful combination of dialectological and sociolinguistic methodologies can provide a three-­dimensional sense of a language’s use across space and time; it also demonstrates, however, the ways in which particular ideologically informed readings of what linguistic authenticity means might affect the analysis of present and future linguistic realities. When I was a boy, the emblem of the Church of Scotland was a representation of the Burning Bush along with the Latin motto nec tamen consumebatur ‘and yet it was not consumed’. Of course the primary intended interpretation of this symbol was, I imagine, that the ‘people of God’ should not blanch from becoming his mouthpiece; no spiritual and eternal harm would come to them. I suspect also that it alluded to the persecution (and eventual triumph) of Presbyterianism in Scotland in the seventeenth century. The symbol and motto might also stand for Scotland – despite everything, the country was not consumed, it was not homogenised into a larger ‘British’ whole. Thinking back, however, I believe Scots is also being described (as are Gaelic and Irish, although that is another debate). Despite being spoken in the same islands as the hegemonic language of the modern era, Scots was not consumed. Its future is in the hands of its speakers before everyone else; scholars, like you and I, can document and assist in this process. More importantly, we should do so.

Bibliography

Abercrombie, David. 1979. ‘The Accents of Standard English in Scotland’. In Aitken and McArthur (1979): 68–84. Allan, Alasdair. 1995. ‘Scots Spellin: Ettlin Efter the Quantum Lowp’. English World-­Wide 16: 61–103. Aitken, A. J. 1979. ‘Scottish Speech: A Historical View, with Special Reference to the Standard English of Scotland’. In Aitken and McArthur (1979): 85–118. Aitken, A. J. 1981. ‘The Scottish Vowel-­length Rule’. In Benskin and Samuels (1981): 131–57. Aitken, A. J. and Tom McArthur (eds). 1979. Languages of Scotland. Edinburgh: Chambers. Am Baile. 2009. The Cromarty Fisherfolk Dialect. Inverness: Highland Council. Anderson, Robert. 1985. ‘In search of the “Lad of Parts”: the Mythical History of Scottish Education’. History Workshop 19: 82–105. Angus-­Butterworth, L. M. 1969. Robert Burns and the 18th-­century Revival in Scottish Vernacular Poetry. Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press. Bann, Jennifer and John Corbett. 2015. Spelling Scots. The Orthography of Literary Scots, 1700–2000. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Barrie, J. M. [1891] 2008. The Little Minister. Glasgow: Kennedy & Boyd. Benskin, Michael and M. L. Samuels (eds). 1981. So Meny People Longages and Tonges. Edinburgh: privately published. Bergs, Alexander. 2005. Modern Scots. 2nd edn. Munich: Lincom Europa. Birkin, Andrew. 2003. J. M. Barrie and the Lost Boys. 2nd edn. New Haven: Yale University Press. Blackhall, Sheena and Hamish Macdonald. 2003. Double Heider: Twa Novellas in Scots – Loon, The Girnin Gates. Edinburgh: Itchy Coo. Bour, Anthony R. 2015. ‘Exotic Multiple Modals: Semantic and Morphosyntactic Survey’. Scottish Language 34: 14–41. Bour, Anthony R. (forthcoming). ‘Negated and Inverted Syntax of Modal Combinations in the Scottish Borders: Traditional Double Modals, Hybrid Double Modal and Exotic Triple Modal’. Scottish Language 36. Bradfield, Ray. 1999. Nigel Tranter: Scotland’s Storyteller. Edinburgh: Black & White. Brato, Thorsten. 2014. ‘Accent Variation and Change in North-­East Scotland: the Case of (HW) in Aberdeen’. In Lawson (2014): 32–52. 220



bibliogr aphy 221

Buchan, Peter and David Toulmin. 1989. Buchan Claik: the Saut an the Glaur o’t: A Compendium of Words and Phrases from the North-­East of Scotland. Edinburgh: Gordon Wright. Carruthers, Gerard (ed.). 2009. The Edinburgh Companion to Robert Burns. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Chaney, Lisa. 2005. Hide-­and-­Seek with Angels. A life of J. M. Barrie. London: Arrow Books. Concise Scots Dictionary = Robinson, Mairi. 1985. The Concise Scots Dictionary. Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press. Corbett, John. 2003. ‘Language Planning and Modern Scots’. In Corbett, McClure and Stuart-­Smith (2003): 251–72. Corbett, John and Christian Kay. 2009. Understanding Grammar in Scotland Today. Glasgow: Association for Scottish Literary Studies. Corbett, John, J. Derrick McClure and Jane Stuart-­Smith (eds). 2003. The Edinburgh Companion to Scots. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Corrigan, Karen P. 2010. Irish English. Volume 1 – Northern Ireland. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Crawford, Robert. 2007. Scotland’s Books. The Penguin History of Scottish Literature. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Cruickshank, Janet and Robert McColl Millar (eds). 2017. Before the Storm. Selected Papers from the FRLSU Conference, Ayr 2015. Aberdeen: Forum for Research on the Languages of Scotland and Ulster. Department for Infrastructure (NI). 2016. Language Policy – Ulster-­Scots 2016. Belfast: Department for Infrastructure (NI). . Donaldson, William. 1986. Popular Literature in Victorian Scotland: Language, Fiction, and the Press. Aberdeen: Aberdeen University Press. Dossena, Marina. 2005. Scotticisms in Grammar and Vocabulary: Like Runes Upon a Standin Stane? Edinburgh: John Donald. Dossena, Marina and Charles Jones (eds). 2003. Insights into Late Modern English. Bern: Peter Lang. Dossena, Marina and Roger Lass (eds). 2009. Studies in English and European Historical Dialectology. Bern: Peter Lang. Douglas, Fiona. 2009. Scottish Newspapers, Language, and Identity. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Downie, Anne. 1983. ‘The Survival of the Fishing Dialects on the Moray Firth’. Scottish Language 2: 42–8. Durham, M. 2014. ‘Thirty Years Later: Real-­Time Change and Stability in Attitudes towards the Dialect in Shetland’. In Lawson (2014): 296–318. Edelstein, Elspeth. 2014. ‘This Syntax Needs Studied’. In Zanuttini and Horn (2014): 242–68. Eunson, Bruce. 2017. ‘23 Months 4 Coordinators 1 Aim: A Discussion on Attempts to Develop the Place of Scots Language in Education Across Scotland’. In Cruickshank and Millar (2017): 98–106.

222

modern scots

Farrow, Kenneth D. 2004. John Knox: Reformation Rhetoric and the Traditions of Scots Prose, 1490–1570. Oxford: Peter Lang. Fenton, James. 2006. The Hamely Tongue: A Personal Record of the Ulster-­Scots in County Antrim. 3rd edn. Belfast: The Ullans Press for the Ulster-­Scots Language Society. Ferguson, Charles. 1959. ‘Diglossia’. Word 15: 325–40. Ferguson, Frank (ed.). 2008. Ulster-­Scots Writing: An Anthology. Dublin: Four Courts Press. Fishman, Joshua. 1967. ‘Bilingualism With and Without Diglossia; Diglossia With and Without Bilingualism’. Journal of Social Issues 32: 29–38. Fitt, Matthew. 2001. But-­n-­Ben-­a-­Go-­Go. Edinburgh: Luath. Flaws, Margaret and Gregor Lamb. 1996. The Orkney Dictionary. Kirkwall: Orkney Culture and Language Group. Galt, John. [1821] 2002. Annals of the Parish, the Ayrshire Legatees, The Provost. Edinburgh: The Saltire Society. Gibbon, Lewis Grassic. [1932] 1988. Sunset Song. Edinburgh: Canongate. Glauser, Beat. 1972. The Scottish-­English Linguistic Border. Lexical Aspects. Bern: Francke Verlag. Görlach, Manfred (ed.). 1985. Focus On: Scotland. Amsterdam: Benjamins. Graham, John J. 1993. The Shetland Dictionary. 3rd edn. Lerwick: Shetland Times. Grin, François. 2003. Language Policy Evaluation and the European Charter for Regional or Minority Languages. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Hallström, Elina. 2012. ‘Gaelic-­ English Bilingual Children’s Aspectual Awareness: Grammaticality Judgements of English Stative-­Progressives’. Scottish Language 31/32: 1–28. Hyvik, Jens Johan, Robert McColl Millar and Andrew G. Newby. 2016. ‘Language and Nationalism in the Nineteenth Century: Nynorsk and Scots in Comparative Context’. Scandinavica 55: 6–42. Imamura, Mari. 2004. Primary School Teachers’ Attitudes Towards the Scots Language in Education in the North East of Scotland. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Aberdeen. Jack, Ronald D. S. 1997. ‘The Language of Literary Materials: Origins to 1700’. In Jones (1997): 213–65. Jakobsen, Jakob. [1928] 1985. An Etymological Dictionary of the Norn Language in Shetland. Lerwick: Shetland Folk Society. Johnson, Sally A. 2005. Spelling Trouble? Language, Ideology and the Reform of German Orthography. Clevedon: Multilingual Matters. Johnston, Paul. 1997. ‘Regional variation’. In Jones (1997): 433–513. Jones, Charles. 2002. The English Language in Scotland: An Introduction to Scots. East Linton: Tuckwell. Jones, Charles (ed.). 1997. The Edinburgh History of the Scots Language. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Joseph, John Earl. 1987. Eloquence and Power: The Rise of Language Standards and Standard Languages. London: F. Pinter.



bibliogr aphy 223

Karam, Kerry. 2017. Knappin: Standard Versus Dialect Speech Modification in Shetland. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Aberdeen. Kay, Christian J., Carole Hough and Irené Wotherspoon (eds). 2004. New Perspectives on English Historical Linguistics. Volume II. Lexis and Transmission. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Kennington, Fred. 2006. As Spoken in Berwick: The Unique Dialect. A Dialect Dictionary. Stockport: F. L. Kennington. King Sutherland, David. No date. Fisherlore of Avoch. Privately published. Kirk, John. 1999. ‘The Dialect Vocabulary of Ulster’. Cuadernos de Filologia Inglesa 8: 305–34. Kirk, John M. and Donall Ó Baóill (eds). 2005. Legislation, Literature and Sociolinguistics: Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland, and Scotland. Belfast: Cló Ollscoil na Banríona. Kirk, John M. and Donall Ó Baóill (eds). 2009. Language and Economic Development: Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland, and Scotland. Belfast: Cló Ollscoil na Banríona. Kirk, John M. and Donall Ó Baóill (eds). 2011. Sustaining Minority Language Communities: Northern Ireland, the Republic of Ireland, and Scotland. Belfast: Cló Ollscoil na Banríona. Kloss, Heinz. 1967. ‘“Abstand Languages” and “Ausbau Languages”’. Anthropological Linguistics 9: 29–41. Kloss, Heinz. 1978. Die Entwicklung neuer germanischer Kultursprachen seit 1800. 2nd edn. Dusseldorf: Pädagogischer Verlag Schwann. Kloss, Heinz. 1984. ‘Interlingual Communication: Danger and Chance for the Smaller Tongues’. Scottish Studies (Frankfurt) 4: 73–7. ‘Kurtoglu, Wulf’. 2011. Braken Fences. Privately published. Kynoch, Douglas. 2004. A Doric dictionary. 2nd edn. Dalkeith: Scottish Cultural Press. Ladefoged, Peter and Keith Johnson. 2011. A Course in Phonetics. Boston, MA: Cengage. Lamb, Gregor. 1988. Orkney Wordbook. A Dictionary of the Dialect of Orkney. Birsay: Byrgisey. Lawson, Eleanor, James M. Scobbie and Jane Stuart-­Smith. 2014. ‘A Socio-­ Articulatory Study of Scottish Rhoticity’. In Lawson (2014): 53–78. Lawson, Robert. 2014a. ‘“Don’t Even [θ/f/h]ink Aboot It”: An Ethnographic Investigation of Social Meaning, Social Identity and (θ) Variation in Glasgow’. English World-­Wide 35: 68–93. Lawson, Robert (ed.). 2014b. Sociolinguistics in Scotland. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Lewis, Geoffrey L. 1999. The Turkish Language Reform: A Catastrophic Success. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Linguistic Atlas of Scotland = Mather, J. Y. and H. H. Speitel. 1975–86. The Linguistic Atlas of Scotland: Scots Section. Three volumes. London: Croom Helm. Ljosland, Ragnhild. 2012/13. ‘“I’ll Cross Dat Brig Whin I Come Til Him”:

224

modern scots

Grammatical Gender in the Orkney and Shetland Dialects of Scots’. Scottish Language 31/32: 29–58. Ljosland, Ragnhild. 2017. ‘The Be-­ Perfect in Transitive Constructions in Orkney and Shetland Scots: Influenced by Norn or Not?’ In Cruickshank and Millar (2017): 107–27. Llamas, Carmen and Dominic Watt (eds). 2010. Language and Identities. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Lochhead, Liz. [1987] 1989. Mary Queen of Scots Got Her Head Chopped Off and Dracula. Harmondsworth: Penguin. Lossie Glossie = Anonymous. No date. Lossie Glossie. Lossiemouth: Lossiemouth Library. Lowing, Karen A. 2014. ‘Ane Instructioun for Bairnis to be Learnit in Scottis’: A Study of Scots Language in the Scottish Secondary Classroom. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Newcastle-­upon-­Tyne. Lyttle, W. G. [1886] 2015. Sons of the Sod. A Tale of County Down. Belfast: Books Ulster. Macafee, Caroline I. 1992 and following. Characteristics of Non-­ standard Grammar in Scotland. . Macafee, Caroline I. 1994. Traditional Dialect in the Modern World. Frankfurt: Lang. Macafee, Caroline I. 1996. A Concise Ulster Dictionary. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Macafee, Caroline I. 1997a. ‘Older Scots Lexis’. In Jones (1997): 182–212. Macafee, Caroline I. 1997b. ‘Ongoing Change in Modern Scots: The Social Dimension’. In Jones (1997): 514–49. Macafee, Caroline I. 2002. ‘A History of Scots to 1700’. In A Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue 12, xxi–clvi. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Macaulay, R. 1987. ‘The Social Significance of Scottish Dialect Humor’. International Journal of the Sociology of Language 65: 53–64. Mccall, Cathal. 2002. ‘Political Transformation and the Reinvention of the Ulster-­Scots Identity and Culture’. Identities 9: 197–218. McClure, J. Derrick. 1987. ‘Dialect speech’. In Omand (1987): 306–15. McClure, J. Derrick. 1995a. Scots and its Literature. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. McClure, J. Derrick. 1995b. ‘The Pinkerton Syndrome”. In McClure 1995a: 57–67. McClure, J. Derrick. 1997. ‘The Spelling of Scots: A Difficulty’. In Schneider (1997): 173–84. McClure, J. Derrick. 2000. Language, Poetry and Nationhood. Scots as a Poetic Language from 1878 to the Present. East Linton: Tuckwell. McClure, J. Derrick. 2002. The Doric. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. McClure, J. Derrick. 2009. Why Scots Matters. 2nd edn. Edinburgh: Saltire Society. McGarrity, Briege. 1998. A Sociolinguistic Study of Attitudes Towards and



bibliogr aphy 225

Proficiency in the Doric Dialect in Aberdeen. Unpublished MPhil dissertation, University of Aberdeen. MacKinnon, Kenneth. 1991. Gaelic: A Past and Future Prospect. Edinburgh: Saltire Society. McLellan, Robert. 1970. Jamie the Saxt. London: Calder & Boyars. Macleod, Iseabail and J. Derrick McClure (eds). 2012. Scotland in Definition: A History of Scottish Dictionaries. Edinburgh: John Donald. McLeod, Wilson. 2004. Divided Gaels: Cultural Identities in Scotland and Ireland c.1200–c.1650. Oxford: Oxford University Press. McMahon, April. 2002. An Introduction to English Phonology. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. McRae, Sandra Mhairi. 2006. Demonstrative Use in the Lower Garioch: A Study of a Change in Progress. Unpublished doctoral dissertation, University of Aberdeen. Männystrie o Fowkgates, Airts an Aisedom. 2015. Roadin furtae brïng forrits an graith tha ULSTÈR-­ SCOTCH Leid, Heirskip an Cultùr 20an15– 20an35. Belfast: Department of Culture, Arts and Leisure. . Marshall, Jonathan. 2004. Language Change and Sociolinguistics. Rethinking Social Networks. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Melchers, Gunnel. 1985. ‘Knappin”, “Proper English”, “Modified Scottish”. Some Language Attitudes in the Shetland Isles’. In Görlach (1985): 86–105. Melchers, Gunnel. 2012. ‘“Nornomania” in the Research on Language in the Northern Isles’. In Stenroos, Mäkinen and Særheim (2012): 213–30. Millar, Robert McColl. 1996. ‘Gaelic-­influenced Scots in Pre-­Revolutionary Maryland’. In Ureland and Clarkson (1996): 387–410. Millar, Robert McColl. 1999. ‘Some Geographical and Cultural Patterns in the Lexical/Semantic Structure of Scots’. Northern Scotland 18: 55–65. Millar, Robert McColl. 2003. ‘“Blind Attachment to Inveterate Custom”. Language Use, Language Attitude and the Rhetoric of Improvement in the first Statistical Account’. In Dossena and Jones (2003): 311–30. Millar, Robert McColl. 2004. ‘Kailyard, Conservatism and Scots in the Statistical Account of Scotland’. In Kay, Hough and Wotherspoon (2004): 163–76. Millar, Robert McColl. 2005. Language, Nation and Power. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Millar, Robert McColl. 2006. ‘“Burying Alive”: Unfocussed Governmental Language Policy and Scots’. Language Policy 5: 63–86. Millar, Robert McColl. 2007. Northern and Insular Scots. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Millar, Robert McColl. 2009a. ‘The Origins of the Northern Scots Dialects’. In Dossena and Lass (2009): 191–208. Millar, Robert McColl. 2009b. ‘Dislocation: Is it Presently Possible to Envisage

226

modern scots

an Economically Based Language Policy for Scots in Scotland?’. In Kirk and Ó Baóill (2009): 186–95. Millar, Robert McColl. 2010a. ‘Linguistic Marginality in Scotland: Scots and the Celtic Languages’. In Millar (2010c): 5–17. Millar, Robert McColl. 2010b. ‘An Historical National Identity? The Case of Scots’. In Llamas and Watt (2010): 247–56. Millar, Robert McColl. 2011 ‘Linguistic Democracy?’. In Kirk and Ó Baóill (2011): 218–24. Millar, Robert McColl. 2012. English Historical Sociolinguistics. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Millar, Robert McColl. 2016a. Contact: The Interaction of Closely Related Varieties and the History of English. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Millar, Robert McColl. 2016b. ‘Dialect Death? The Present State of the Dialects of the Scottish Fishing Communities’. In Russi (2016): 143–64. Millar, Robert McColl (ed.). 2010c. Marginal Dialects: Scotland, Ireland and Beyond. Aberdeen: Forum for Research on the Languages of Scotland and Ireland. Millar, Robert McColl, William Barras and Lisa Marie Bonnici. 2014. Lexical Variation and Attrition in the Scottish Fishing Communities. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Millar, Robert McColl and Larry Trask. 2015. Trask’s Historical Linguistics. 3rd edn. Abingdon: Routledge. Miller, James. 2001. A Caithness Wordbook. Wick: North of Scotland Newspapers. Miller, Jim. 2003. ‘Syntax and Discourse in Modern Scots’. In Corbett, McClure and Stuart-­Smith (2003): 72–109. Munro, Michael. 1996. The Complete Patter. Edinburgh: Canongate Books. Murison, David D. 1977. The Guid Scots Tongue. Edinburgh: Blackwood. Murray, Mary. 1982. ‘In My Ain Words’: An East Neuk Vocabulary. Anstruther: Scottish Fisheries Museum. Ó Baoill, Colm. 1997. ‘The Scots-­Gaelic Interface’. In Jones (1997): 551–68. O’Day, J. P. 2014. The Illustrated Dundee Dictionary. Communicate with Confidence & Ease. Dundee: privately printed. Omand, Donald (ed.). 1987. The Grampian Book. Golspie, Sutherland: Northern Times. Omand, Donald (ed.). 1995. The Borders Book. Edinburgh: Birlinn. Otty, Lisa. 2014. ‘An Eccentric Homespun Avant-­Gardist’. Avant-­Garde Critical Studies 30: 217–50. Pavlenko, Alexander. 1997. ‘The Origin of the Be Perfect with Transitives in the Shetland Dialect’. Scottish Language 16: 88–96. Pittock, Murray G. H. 1999. Celtic Identity and the British Image. Manchester: Manchester University Press. Pradilla, Miquel Àngel. 2015. La catalanofonia: una comunitat del segle XXI a la recerca de la normalitat lingüistica. Barcelona: Institut d’Estudis Catalans. Purves, David. 2002. A Scots Grammar. Scots Grammar and Usage. 2nd edn. Edinburgh: Saltire Society.



bibliogr aphy 227

Rennie, Susan. 2000. Grammaar Broonie: a guide tae Scots Grammar fae the Scottish National Dictionary Association. Edinburgh: Polygon. Rennie, Susan. 2012. Jamieson’s Dictionary of Scots. The Story of the First Historical Dictionary of the Scots Language. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Rennison, Nick. 2007. Peter Mark Roget. The Man who Became a Book. Harpenden: Pocket Essentials. Riach, W. A. D. 1979–82. ‘A Dialect Study of Comparative Areas in Galloway. Scottish Literary Journal, Supplement 9 (1979): 1–16; Scottish Literary Journal, Supplement 12 (1980): 23–51; Scottish Language 1 (1982): 13–22. Riach, W. A. D. 1988. A Galloway Glossary. Aberdeen: Association for Scottish Literary Studies. Robertson, T. A. and John J. Graham. 1952. Grammar & Usage of the Shetland Dialect. Lerwick: Shetland Times. Robinson, Philip. 1998. Wake the Tribe o’ Dan. Belfast: Ullans Press. Russi, Cinzia (ed.). 2016. Current Trends in Historical Sociolinguistics. Warsaw: De Gruyter Open. Scott, Sir Walter. [1816] 2000. The Black Dwarf. Electric Book Company. Schlötterer, Rainer. 1996. Fishermen’s Dialect on the South-­East Coast of Scotland: Lexical Aspects. Unpublished Masters dissertation, University of Bamberg. Schneider, Edgar W. (ed.). 1997. Englishes Around the World. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Schützler, Ole. 2015. A Sociophonetic Approach to Scottish Standard English. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Shepherd, Robbie. 2006. Robbie Shepherd’s Doric Columns. Edinburgh: Birlinn. Smith, Jennifer. 2000. ‘“You ø na hear o’ that kind o’ things”: Negative Do in Buckie Scots’. English World-­Wide 21: 231–59. Spolsky, Bernard. 2014. The Language of the Jews: A Sociolinguistic History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Stenroos, Merja, Martti Mäkinen and Inge Særheim (eds). 2012. Language Contact and Development around the North Sea. Amsterdam: John Benjamins. Stirling, Angus. 1994. ‘On a Standardised Spelling for Scots’. Scottish Language 13: 88–93. Stuart-­Smith, Jane and Claire Timmins. 2014. ‘Language and the Influence of the Media: A Scottish perspective’. In Lawson (2014): 177–96. Sullivan, W. J., P. Sutcliffe and Arle Lommel (eds). 2011. LACUS Forum 36: Mechanisms of Linguistic Behavior. Houston: Linguistic Association of Canada and the United States. Sutherland, Iain. 1992. The Caithness Dictionary. Wick: privately published. Tulloch, Graham. 1980. The Language of Sir Walter Scott: A Study of his Scottish and Period Language. London: André Deutsch. Tulloch, Graham. 1997. ‘The Scots Language in Australia’. In Jones (1997): 623–35. Ureland, P. Sture and Iain Clarkson (eds). 1996. Language Contact Across the North Atlantic. Tübingen: Niemeyer.

228

modern scots

Wekker, H.Chr. 1976. The Expression of Future Time in Contemporary British English: An Investigation into the Syntax and Semantics of Five Verbal Constructions Expressing Futurity. Amsterdam: North-­Holland. Wells, J. C. 1982. Accents of English. Three volumes. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Welsh, Irvine. 1994. Trainspotting. London: Vintage. West Lothian Broadly Scots Society. 2008. Scots Words and their Meanings as Used in West Lothian. Livingston: privately printed. Williamson, Keith. 1982. ‘Lowland Scots in Education: An Historical Survey – Part I’. Scottish Language 1: 54–77. Williamson, Keith. 1983. ‘Lowland Scots in Education: An Historical Survey – Part II’. Scottish Language 2: 52–87. Yerastov, Y. 2011. ‘Lexicalization of the Transitive Be Perfect in Scots-­influenced Dialects of North America’. In Sullivan, Sutcliffe and Lommel (2011): 331–46. Young Mather, James. 1995. ‘Dialect’. In Omand (1995): 193–202. Zanuttini, Raffaella and Laurence R. Horn (eds). 2014. Micro-­Syntactic Variation in North American English. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Index

Aasen, Ivar, 193, 207 Aberdeen, 14, 16, 20–1, 50, 52, 55, 56, 59, 93, 99, 101, 120, 193, 194 University, 135 Aberdeenshire, 14, 50, 88, 127, 129, 130, 132–3 Aeneid, The, 172–3 Afrikaans, 143 Aiberdeen Universitie Scots Leid Quorum, 202 Aitken, A. J., 36–7, 98 America, North, 190 Ane Satyre of the Thrie Estaitis, 182 Angus, 15, 35, 38, 48, 50, 57, 118, 127, 129, 166 Annals of the Parish, 163–4 Antrim, Co., 22, 24, 85, 188 Argyll, 5, 67, 73, 103 Association for Scottish Literary Studies, 201–2 As spoken in Berwick, 117 attrition, lexical, 134–8 Auchnagatt, 88 Australia, 190 Avoch, 13–14 Ayrshire, 16, 36, 67, 68, 125, 195 BAIT, 36 Central Scots, 68 Insular Scots, 41 Northern Scots, 53–4 Southern Scots, 76 Ulster Scots, 84 Balearic Islands, 205 Ballymena, 22 Banff Academy, 198 Banffshire, 132 Barbour, John, 172 Barcelona, 205 Barrie, J. M., 165–6 Basque, 139

Baxter, Stanley, 180 BEAT, 35–6 Central Scots, 66–7 Insular Scots, 40 Northern Scots, 50–1 Southern Scots, 74–6 Ulster Scots, 83–4 Beath, 36–7 Beith, 36 Belfast, 16, 22, 93 Belfast Agreement (1998), 10, 211–12 Bernicia, 3–4 Berwick-upon-Tweed, 28, 117 Bible, 6, 98, 163–4, 175 BITE, xii, 36, 37 Central Scots, 72–3 Insular Scots, 46 Northern Scots, 62–3 Southern Scots, 81–2 Ulster Scots, 87 Black Dwarf, The, 161–2 Blackhall, Sheena, 169 Black Isle, 5, 13–14, 47, 50, 55, 56, 60, 109, 125, 152 Boord o Ulstèr Scotch, 212 Borders, Scottish, 75, 104, 125, 126 Braken Fences, 169–70 Breadalbane, 4 Brechin, 90, 91 Broons, The, 183, 185–6, 191 Buchan, 92 Buchan Claik, 119–20 Buchan Heritage Society, 194 Buckie, 124 BUIT, 35–6, 95, 149, 209 Central Scots, 65–6 Insular Scots, 13, 38–9 Northern Scots, 48–9 Southern Scots, 74 Ulster Scots, 82–3

229

230

modern scots

Burns, Robert, 7–9, 89, 146, 151, 160, 162, 173–6, 178, 190, 196–7, 208–9 But-n-Ben-a-go-go, 170 Caithness, 13, 20, 46, 47, 55, 56, 58, 103, 109 Caithness Dictionary, 120 Caithness Word Book, 120 Cant, 104 Catalan, 2, 204–6, 215 Catalonia, 204–6, 215 Catholicism, 23, 194–5 CAUGHT, 36 Central Scots, 71–2 Insular Scots, 45 Northern Scots, 61–2 Southern Scots, 80–1 Ulster Scots, 86–7 Celtic Languages, 88 Central Belt, 20, 59, 79, 93, 126 Charter for Regional or Minority Languages, 210–12 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 171–2 CHOICE, 36 Central Scots, 73 Insular Scots, 47 Northern Scots, 64 Southern Scots, 81–2 Ulster Scots, 87 Church of Scotland, 22, 162, 137–8, 219 Clackmannanshire, 15, 99, 126 Clare, John, 190 Clochmabenstane, 88 Clyde, River, 5, 20 Clydeside conurbation, 15, 20, 23, 67, 77, 119, 146, 148–9 coal mining, 15, 135 code mixing, 10 code shifting, 10 Coleraine, 22 Complete Patter, The, 118–19 Concise Scots Dictionary, 26–7, 101, 103, 105–12, 128 Concise Ulster Dictionary, 27–8, 112–16 Corpus of Modern Scottish Writing, 30–1 COT, 36 Central Scots, 71–2 Insular Scots, 45 Northern Scots, 61–2 Southern Scots, 80–1 Ulster Scots, 86–7 Council of Europe, 210–11 Cromarty, 5, 13–14, 89, 152, 217 ‘Dailygan’, 190 Danish, 154, 159

Dee, River, 20, 49 Derry City, 16, 22, 211 Derry-Londonderry, Co., 22, 24 dialect death, 14, 134 dialectalisation, 1–2, 5 Dickens, Charles, 187–8 Dictionary of Old English, 30 Dictionary of the Older Scottish Tongue, 25, 26–7, 200 Dictionary of the Scots Language, 26–7, 200 diglossia, 10 Don, River, 20 Donegal, Co., 22, 23, 24, 211 ‘Donegore Hill’, 189–90 ‘Doric, The’ see Scots, North East Doric Dictionary, 27, 119–20 Dossena, Marina, 6, 31 Douglas, Gavin, 172–3 Down, Co., 22, 24, 85, 187–8 DRESS, 36 Central Scots, 68 Insular Scots, 41 Northern Scots, 54–5 Southern Scots, 76–7 Ulster Scots, 84–5 A Drunk Man Looks At The Thistle, 178 Dumbarton, 20 Dumfries, 79 Dumfriesshire, 88, 125, 126, 127 Dunbartonshire, 68, 130, 168–9 Dunbar, William, 172, 196 Dundee, 15, 20, 21, 55, 57, 61, 93, 117–18, 126, 185–6 Dutch, 1, 101, 117, 217 Eastward Ho!, 182 Edinburgh, 3, 4, 6, 15, 20, 68, 93, 179, 196 ‘Elegy in a Country Churchyard’, 190 Elgin, 60 Elphinstone Institute (Aberdeen), 28 English American, 90, 104, 142, 170 Appalachian, 2, 157 ‘British’, 3 ‘Cockney’, 183 East Midlands England, 99 Highlands and Islands, 13, 16, 78 Irish, 16, 75, 77, 81, 82, 87, 90, 92–3, 194 London, 93 Middle, 115 North American, 149 Northern England, 4–5, 37, 75, 89, 99, 117, 152 Northern Irish Standard, 16, 95, 81 Old, 3, 4–5, 89, 99



inde x 231

Scottish Standard, xii, 2, 3, 6, 9–10, 16, 31, 34, 35, 36–7, 39, 40, 43, 44, 49, 53, 55, 56, 58–9, 60, 61–2, 63, 70, 71, 74, 75, 78, 79, 82, 87, 92, 95, 118, 140, 142, 148–9, 157, 158, 196, 199, 208 Southern England, 3 South West England, 75 Ulster, 5, 16, 28, 37, 77, 80, 83, 91, 93, 105, 112–16 Yorkshire, 89 Esperanto, 204 Fair Isle, 39, 42 Falkirk, 126 Faroe Islands, 21 Farsi, 140 Fenton, James, 190 Fermanagh, Co., 212 Fettercairn, 53 Feugh, River, 49 Fife, 15, 37, 72–3, 126, 127, 133, 134 Finnish, 131 fishing, 13–14, 20–1, 62, 114, 118, 120, 129–30, 135–8 Fitt, Matthew, 170–1 Flotta, 21 Forfar, 45, 118 Forth, River, 4, 20 France, 4, 102 Fraserburgh (The Broch), 88, 125 French, xii, 2, 95, 100, 101–2, 204 Gaelic, Scottish, 3, 4, 5, 13, 16, 58, 89–91, 102–4, 115–16, 118, 121, 145, 149, 150, 155, 199, 210, 215, 219 Gaeltacht, 216 Gaidhealtachd, 102, 103 Galloway, 17, 20, 77, 79, 82, 104, 125, 129 Galloway Glossary, 117 ‘Galloway Irish’, 17 Galt, John, 163–4 Gardenstown (Gamrie), 125 Garioch, Robert, 179 German, 1, 2, 95, 143–4, 144, 154, 204 Low, 2, 100–1 Germanic languages, 142, 144, 150, 151 Germany, 101 Gibbon, Lewis Grassic (James Leslie Mitchell), 164 Girnin Gates, 168 Glasgow, 15, 20, 67–8, 79, 92, 93, 149, 179–81, 196 GOAT, 36 Central Scots, 71 Insular Scots, 44

Northern Scots, 60 Southern Scots, 80 Ulster Scots, 86 ‘The Good Thief’, 180–1 Gray, Thomas, 190 Greek, 193 Greenock, 72 Grin, François, 206–7, 215–16 Hamely Tongue, The, 28 Hamilton, Margaret, 179–80 Heaney, Seamus, 186 Henryson, Robert, 172 Hogg, Mr Bobby, 217 ‘Hoosier’, 190 Hopeman, 60 Howe o the Mearns, 53 Hoy, 21 Illustrated Dundee Dictionary, The, 117–18 Indo-European, 143 industrialisation, 110, 126 Inverness, 5, 125, 126 Invernesshire, 24, 106 Inverurie, 90, 91 Irish, 5, 16, 104, 115–16, 206, 212, 219 Italian, 2, 102 Jakobsen, Jakob, 121 James VI, 6, 166–8, 183–4 Jamie the Saxt, 183–4 Jamieson’s Dictionary, 25, 177, 178 ‘Jockney’, 93 Johnston, Paul, 11, 34–6, 76, 96 Jonson, Ben, 182 Kailyard, 8, 166, 182, 187, 195 Kemalism, 206, 207 Kennedy, Walter, 172 Kincardineshire, 15, 48, 50, 54, 124 Kinrossshire, 130 kin-tongue, 2 Kirkcudbright, 17 Kirkcudbrightshire (Stewartry of Kirkcudbright), 130 Kirkwall, 21 Kirriemuir, 48, 166 KIT, 36 Central Scots, 69–70 Insular Scots, 43 Northern Scots, 57–8 Southern Scots, 77–8 Ulster Scots, 85–6 kitchie comedies, 182

232

modern scots

koineisation, 217, 218 ‘Kurtoglu, Wulf’, 169–70 Laggan, The, 22, 211 Lallans see Scots Lallans, 200–1 ‘Lament for a Lost Dinner Ticket’, 179–80 Lanarkshire, 15, 68, 126 language death, 14 Larne, 17, 22 Latin, 196 Leonard, Tom, 180–1 Leuchars, 93 lexical sets, 34–6 Linguistic Atlas of Scotland, 29, 123–7 Linguistic Survey of Scotland, 29, 38, 117 Little Minister, The, 165–6 Ljosland, Ragnhild, 144, 155 Lochgilphead, 5 Lochhead, Liz, 184 Lochwinnoch, 195 Lossie Glossie, 28, 119 Lossiemouth, 125 Lothian, 126, 133 East, 127 Mid, 127 West, 15, 70, 117–18 Lough Swilly, 22 Loyalism, Ulster, 188, 212 Lyndsay, Sir David, 182 Lyttle, W. G., 187–8 Macafee, Caroline, 27–8, 31, 112–13, 118, 119 McClure, J. Derrick, 198, 205 McDiarmid, Hugh (C. M. Grieve), 160, 176–8, 196, 198, 201, 207–8 Macdonald, Hamish, 168–9 McFlannels, The, 182–3 McIlvanney, William, 160 McLellan, Robert, 183–4 Madrid, 205 Mainland, Orkney, 21 Mainland, Shetland, 21, 39 Makars’ Club, 200, 208–9 Mary Queen of Scots Got Her Head Chopped Off, 184 MATE-HAME, 36, 40, 96 Central Scots, 67–8 Insular Scots, 38–9 Northern Scots, 52–3 Southern Scots, 76 Ulster Scots, 84 Mearns, The, 48 MEET, 35, 36

Central Scots, 66–7 Insular Scots, 39 Northern Scots, 49–50 Southern Scots, 74–6 Ulster Scots, 83–4 Milton, John, 175 modernism, 177–8, 199 Moray, 14, 28, 50, 52, 54, 55, 59, 120, 127 Moray Firth, 217 Motherwell, 20 Murray, Charles, 177 Murray, Sir James, 25 Nairn, 13, 50, 55–6, 58, 60, 125, 127, 217 Nationalism, Irish, 23, 211–13 new dialect formation, 16 Newtonards Peninsula, 22, 187 New Writing Scotland, 202 New Zealand, 190 Normans, 4, 101 Norn, 5, 13, 91, 99–100, 108, 114, 121, 155 Norse, Old, 5, 99–100, 101, 114, 115, 144–5 North Channel, 186 North Ronaldsay, 45 North Sea Oil, 21, 122 Northern Ireland, 10–11, 21, 211–13, 216, 217–18 Northumbria, 4, 127 Norway, 21, 219 Norwegian, 159, 193, 200, 204, 207 Occitan, 2 Oor Wullie, 183, 185–6, 191 OOT, 36 Central Scots, 70–1 Insular Scots, 44 Northern Scots, 59–60 Southern Scots, 79 Ulster Scots, 86 Orkney, 11–13, 15, 21, 23, 38–47, 126 Orkney Word Book, 122–3 Orr, James, 189–90 OWER, 36, 87 Central Scots, 72 Insular Scots, 47 Northern Scots, 59–60, 63–4 Southern Scots, 81 Ulster Scots, 87 Oxford English Dictionary, 25, 26–7 Paisley, 20, 34, 148, 196 Parliamo Glesga, 180 Pentland Firth, 13 People’s Friend, The, 176, 191 Perth, 4, 201



inde x 233

Perthshire, 15, 103, 127 Peterhead, 125 Pinkerton syndrome, 198 Polish, xii Portuguese, xii Presbyterianism, 23, 195–6, 219 Press and Journal, The, Protestantism, 6, 98, 101, 136, 182, 195–6, 212–13 Received Pronunciation (RP), 36, 180 Reid, Jimmy, 199 Renfrewshire, 34, 68, 72, 99, 125, 195 Republic of Ireland, 21, 211–13 Restricted Pennine Diphthongisation, 76–7, 79, 82 River City, 183 Robinson, Philip, 188–9 Romance languages, 143, 151 Romani, 104 Romanticism, 7, 175–6, 177–8, 193, 196, 199 Ross and Cromarty, 24 Roxburghshire, 75, 79, 130, 152 Sardinian, 2 School of Scottish Studies (Edinburgh), 26, 28–9 Scots Aberdeenshire, 53, 106 Black Isle, 13–14, 52, 54, 89, 120, 124, 217 Caithness, 15, 27, 43, 47, 49, 50, 52, 53, 60, 61, 63, 64, 81, 87, 89, 91, 99–100, 103, 120–1, 129, 143, 146, 153, 154 Central, 13, 14, 15–16, 39, 41, 42, 44, 48, 52, 53, 57, 60, 61, 62, 65–73, 77, 78, 84, 87, 89, 90, 91, 95, 104, 110–11, 117–19, 124, 126, 127, 129, 133, 140, 147, 148, 169 consonantal systems, 88–95 dialect atlases, 28–9 dictionaries, 25–8 Dundonian, 68, 73, 147–8, 171 East Central, 14, 15, 17, 65–73, 89, 125, 127, 131, 132 Glaswegian, 16, 67–8, 73, 179–81,194–5 grammar, 139–59 history, 3–11 Insular, 5, 11–13, 14, 26, 27, 37, 38–47, 48, 49, 81, 83, 87, 89, 90, 99–100, 101, 105, 106, 108, 114, 121–3, 126, 131, 133, 143–5, 147, 149, 152, 155, 169; see also Scots, Orkney; Scots, Shetland language activism, 3, 199–211 lexis, 97–138

Middle, 169 Mid Northern, 14, 50, 52, 54, 56, 57–8, 59–60, 61–2, 63, 64, 90, 91, 92; see also Scots, Aberdeenshire; Scots, NorthEast North East, 13, 14, 15, 27, 28, 83, 89, 100, 103, 104, 105, 106–11, 119–20, 124, 125, 131, 132, 143, 145–6, 158, 169, 170–1, 177, 194, 217 North Northern, 43, 50, 53, 54, 55, 58, 59, 60, 61,124; see also Scots, Black Isle; Scots, Caithness Northern, 13–14, 15, 16, 37, 43, 44, 47–64, 67, 72, 81, 89–90, 91, 92, 106–9, 113–14, 119–21, 125, 126, 127, 147 Orkney, 92 phonology, 35–96 Shetland, 10, 11–13, 15, 88, 89, 91–2, 140, 146, 147, 148, 158 South East, 16, 74–82, 127, 129, 177 South Northern, 14–15, 39, 45, 46, 51–2, 52, 53, 54, 55, 57–8, 59, 60, 61, 62, 89, 91, 104–5, 131 South West, 15, 16, 16–17, 74–82, 82, 89, 125, 127 Southern, 15, 16–17, 39, 48, 53, 62, 66, 72, 74–82, 84, 87, 95, 111–12, 117, 124, 130, 133, 146, 147, 154 spelling, 208–9 ‘synthetic’, 178–9, 201, 207–8 Toonser spik, 14, 16, 194 Ulster, 5, 10, 16, 17, 21–2, 23, 27–8, 34, 35, 37, 39, 47, 53, 65, 80, 81, 82–7, 89, 91, 93, 94, 95, 99, 105, 111, 112–16, 124, 126, 127, 131, 133, 135, 146, 186–90, 211–13, 217–18 urban vs rural, 7, 9–10, 192–5 West Central, 15, 16, 17, 34, 42, 65–73, 80, 82, 83, 84, 93, 94, 95, 105, 113, 118–19, 146, 147–8, 169, 170–1 word lists, 28 Scots Language Centre (formerly Scots Language Resource Centre), 31, 201, 209 Scots Language Society, 200–1, 202, 209 Scots Thesaurus, 26, 127–34 Scots Tung, 202 ‘Scots wha hae’, 151 Scots Words and their Meanings as Used in West Lothian, 117–18 Scotsman, The, 185 Scotstachts, 216 Scott, Sir Walter, 9, 160, 161–3, 196 Scottish Corpus of Texts & Speech (SCOTS), 30–1

234

modern scots

Scottish Government (formerly Scottish Executive), 203, 210–11, 215 Scottish Language, 202 Scottish Language Dictionaries, 200 Scottish National Dictionary, 25–6, 26–7, 28, 119, 200 Scottish National Dictionary Association, 209 Scottish National Party (SNP), 23, 210–11 Scottish Office, 197 Scottish Qualifications Agency (SQA), 198 Scottish Vowel Length Rule, 36–7, 142 Shakespeare, William, 175 Shapinsay, 21 Shepherd, Robbie, 185 Shetland, 21, 23, 38–47, 91 Shetland Dictionary, The, 121–2 Sidlaw Hills, 14 Smith, Sydney Goodsir, 178 Sons of the Sod. A Tale of County Down, 187–8 South Ronaldsay, 21, 46 Spain, 205 Spanish, 205–6 Spark, Muriel, 160 Spence, Alan, 160 Spey, River, 20, 124 Stevenson, Robert Louis, 160 Stirlingshire, 68, 134 Stonehaven, 14, 20 Stranraer, 17, 127 Strathmore, 20 Stronsay, 38, 39, 40, 95 STRUT, 36 Central Scots, 70 Insular Scots, 43–4 Northern Scots, 58–9 Southern Scots, 78 Ulster Scots, 85–6 Sullom Voe, 21 Sunday Post, The, 183, 185–6, 191 Sunset Song, 164 Sutherland, 24 Swedish, 159

Teviot, River, 17, 74, 75, 79, 127 Thurso, 56 ‘To a mouse’, 173–6 Torry, 120 Trainspotting, 171 Tranter, Nigel, 166–8 TRAP, 36 Central Scots, 69 Insular Scots, 42 Northern Scots, 55–7 Southern Scots, 77 Ulster Scots, 85 TRY, xii, 36, 37 Central Scots, 72–3 Insular Scots, 46 Northern Scots, 62–3 Southern Scots, 81–2 Ulster Scots, 87 Turkish, 206, 207 ‘Twaw corbies, The’, 129 Tweed, River, 15, 20, 79, 126 Tyne, River, 14, 89 Tyrone, Co., 212

Tam o’ Shanter, 89 Tannahill, William, 196 Tay, River, 20

Yell, 21, 45 Yetts o’ Muckhart, 99 Yiddish, 2, 170

Ulster, ix, 1, 5, 17, 21–2, 29, 46, 123, 219 Unionism Irish, 23, 212 Ulster, 189, 212–13 Unst, 21 urbanisation, 7 Valencia, 205 Vergil, 172 Wake the Tribe o’ Dan, 188–9 ‘Watergaw, The’, 177–8 Weinreich, Max, 2 Wells, John, 35–6, 37 Welsh, Irvine, 150, 171 Westray, 21 Whalsay, 40, 91 Wick, 50, 56, 121, 124, 125 Wisest Fool, The, 166–8