Duty free
in a desperate diaspora,
all over the world
Clearing the land, clearing its throat.
as if it had a sheep stuck in its tonsils,
clogged with wool, washes
down with whisky.
Dark little island, dark little
half of an island:
lochs and glens and leaking castles,
rain in August, rain in July,
kilts and umbrellas the national dress.
Cheers for a football team
that always loses.
Stuck on top of England like a wart.
Old Scotia's glory – and me
an unregenerate prodigal,
passing through the airport
duty free.
- Poem 'Duty Free (January 5th, 1994)', from 'Taking the Gate: A Journey through Scotland', by Stephen Scobie, 1996. Reproduced by kind permission of Red Deer Press.
- NLS reference: HP1.98.1419