r2vyln3rdioj14u-rld0ska where mountains meet the sea: Betty Mouat's Sang

Betty Mouat's Sang

Betty Mouat’s nineteenth century story is an amazing one of surviving a foiled sailing trip from Grutness in the south of Shetland to the capital town of Lerwick where she planned to sell her knitwear. Betty’s boat, the Columbine, was caught in a storm and the crew disappeared overboard but Betty survived nine days of drifting alone before running aground on the island of Lepsøy in Norway. Whilst recuperating there and with relatives in Edinburgh, news of Betty’s story spread via the national press and Queen Victoria heard about Betty’s bravery, honouring her survival with a gift of money. The 60-year-old eventually returned home to her crofting life in Shetland after generating quite a stir worldwide, inspiring William McGonagall to write a poem about her misadventure. You can still connect with Betty via her Camping Böd home in Scatness. - Claire White

I mind it joost lik yesterday
Da saat spray is still veeve
We lippened blashy wadder
But no da sea to heave
An bal wis fae ee aert tae next
In 1886
Dan nor-aest on an uncan coorse
Driftin fae Scatness

Driftin, we’re aye driftin
We fin meids back an fore
An if göd fortune favours wis
We land apo da shore

Athin no time I wis mesel
Columbine’s sol lodd
As skipper, mate an deckhand
Were aa taen overboard
Nine days, eight nichts, me löf-alenn
No blinndin on da gaet
Twa biscuit an a jar o mylk
Me only faerdie-maet

Da makkin I’d taen nort tae sell
I traded in for rope
Eence nimble fingers noo I used
Ta hadd my body up
Til in a gale I ran agrund
On Norway’s Lepsøy Isle
An winnin safely back ashore
Felt lik me langest mile

In Norway first I kyuckered up
Dan Edinburgh for care
Whaar wimmen cam tae hear me tale
An tak a strand o hair
Dan tree weeks on I med for hom
Dis time apo da Clair
Da croods I’d come tae lippen noo
Were shön ta be nae mair

For back I göd tae work da laand
Da monarch’s twenty pound
Da only mindin o me vaege
An how I ran agrund
Tinkin noo at ninety two
Back thirty year fae syne
Life’s rod his mony twists an turns
Da journey, it is dine

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