User:Ulster Scotty

LIAM LOGAN
GLIPE is a French word. JA, Founder, The Ulster-French Agency.

Liam Logan is a native of County Antrim, “the Hame o the Hamely Tongue”, although he has been resident in Bangor for almost thirty years. But sure, don't they spake it there as well in the County Doon. A native speaker of Ulster Scots, he has written for the News Letter’s monthly Ulster Scots supplement for a number of years. Liam has also been a part of Radio Ulster’s flagship Ulster Scots programme, “A Kist of Words” both as a contributor and as presenter. He has been involved in a number of television programmes for the BBC and TG4 about Ulster Scots. In addition, Liam has contributed to the BBC’s World Service and a number of programmes on BBC4. The Language Diversity Project, established in conjunction with Dr. Ian Malcolm, runs language diversity workshops. Liam believes that Ulster Scots and Irish have a significant role to play in bringing communities together and play a very important part of our shared heritage. Ulster Scots is the link between Irish, Scots Gaelic, Scots and English and he feels that these links should be strengthened and further developed. There are opportunities for the development of links to tourism and the Ulster Scots diaspora in the many parts of the world where the influence and importance of Ulster Scots is recognised. There is also tremendous scope for developing links to the academic world in Scotland and Ireland, both in linguistic and cultural terms. A collection of Liam’s writing in and about Ulster Scots - “A Word of Ulster Scots” - is due to be published in Autumn 2009 and he encourages you to purchase a copy, available from all good bookshops and most of the bad ones. Here is an extract from a recent Language Diversity workshop. "I wish to pay tribute to Ulster Scots for the proliferation of trained and qualified linguists which it has created. I am constantly told that “Ulster Scots isn’t a language, it’s a dialect” by people who appear to know the difference. I claim total ignorance, not being a trained or qualified linguist. It’s bad English in a Ballymena accent, it’s Protestant Irish, it’s a totally made up language. This latter seems to imply that US is unique in being made up whereas I would contend that all languages are made up so not a true criticism. While anxious not to disrespect the beauty of language or indeed the music of language, it should be borne in mind that language is primarily a medium for the transfer and recording of thought. And an imperfect one at that. Ulster Scots was around a long time before it had a name put on it, before it was freighted with the hopes and dreams of highland dancers, kilt wearers, bagpipers and all the other non-linguistic activities currently bracketed with Ulster Scots. As a general point, not all Scottish activities and traditions have a counterpart in Ulster, just some. Without entering into an argument about linguistics and linguistic theory that I have neither the intellect nor the inclination to participate in, I would contend that Ulster Scots informs or infects much of our everyday speech here in Northern Ireland. Some of you may feel that I am takkin keech, takkin ooty my erse, that I’m only an ignorant slabber, a gansh. In a liberal democracy, that is your right. Yes are fit tae argy, argy doon me throat if ye laik but I hae rights tae. Many of you, perhaps most of you will be familiar with slabber, gansh an keech. But enough aboutlocal councillors. These words are not Standard English words. Ulster Scots is a tongue that doesn’t suffer fools gladly; it could be argued that there are slightly too many terms of abuse.

Let’s look at the letter G for instance. Here are a number of critical terms; we’ll look at them in general and then focus on a couple.

1.  Gaederel a stupid person, a simpleton 2.  Gam, foolish, lightheaded person 3.  Gansh, an empty chatterbox 4.  Gebberloon, a clown, an idiot 5.  Geek, a fool, an idiot 6.  Get, an idiot, a nasty or objectionable person 7.  Gillie, a fool 8.  Girn, someone never done whining 9.  Glipe, a raw youth, a fool 10. Glump, a fool, a gawky, awkward person 11. Glunter, a dull witted person, a clumsy greenhorn, easily fooled or taken advantage of 12. Glunterpudden, same as a glunter but also morbidly obese 13. Goam, a numskull 14. Gomerel, a simpleton, a fool 15. Gorb, a greedy person, a glutton, a sybarite 16. Gornet, a greenhorn, a gauche person 17. Gornicle, a ludicrous person, an oddity, a simpleton 18. Gostran, a raw youth, an awkward simple fellow 19.	Gowster, a loud mouthed, blustering person 20. Gral, a puny insignificant person 21. Grulsh, a slow awkward obese person 22. Grumph, a surly scowling person, a continual complainer 23. Gulpin,, a raw youth, a growing boy, a fool 24.	Gype, a fool, a clown, ect the gype, I love all Ulster Scots but I have a particular affection for "gype", "glipe" and a third unrelated word, "clipe".

A gype is best defined as a fool or a clown. A common cry of parents, teachers and indeed anyone in authority is "Quet actin (or ectin) the gype" or "Quet gypin aroon", in other words, "Behave" as Austin Powers might say. A gype is an innocent but usually hyperactive fool, perhaps not the sharpest knife in the drawer but essentially devoid of malice. Think Tigger from A.A. Milne's "Winnie the Pooh" or Ralph Wiggum from "The Simpsons". Incidentally, the word itself seems to have its roots in Old Norse. A glipe is also a fool but yin wae a bit mair wut nor the gype, so admonishments proffered to the glipe ("Gimme that here, ye glipe ye") are done in a spirit of helpfulness, an attempt to improve the glipe. There is also a hint that the glipe, having a bit mair between the lugs, might be capable of logical behaviour. Which bring me to a "clipe", not quite a homophone but nearly. A clipe, (sometimes rendered as clipe-clash) is a tell-tale, a nark. The term is mostly associated with the schoolyard but can be applied in wider contexts but always conveying the same meaning. I think there is a decent research project to be done to determine whether a gype is mair laikly tae clipe on a glipe or whether the glipe might clipe on the gype. A deep Ulster Scots philosophical dilemma!!

Could we give some consideration to the vexed and vexing question of measurement in Ulster Scots, not only quantity or distance but also, perhaps, intensity or numeric values. ‘Bit’ would be the generic term (a bit o rain, a bit o meat) for quantity but not an exact measure (“a bit o a barney”). ‘A drap’ or ‘a taste’ can usually be easily interchanged but is generally, but not exclusively, applied to liquid measures (“(“A wee drap o tay” “A drap o learnin’s aisy carriet” “The country’s crying oot for a taste o rain”); admittedly, the last remark is not heard all that frequently. I’d guess the smallest (conversationally) measurable amount to be ‘a wee toaty bit’, (“A jist tak a wee toaty bit o milk in ma tay”) obviously leading to ‘a wee bit’. (“It’s only a wee bit further on”) but this might also be employed as an understatement “Thon boy’s a wee bit wile” to perhaps convey the presence of rather more ‘wile’ than might be acceptable in polite society.  Then comes ‘a brave wee bit ‘(“He wusnay drunk but he had tane a brave wee bit “) though again, without independent scientific verification, the only real measurement is comparative, this being a lesser amount than ‘a brave bit’. (“I didnay see the hale thing but A seen a brave bit”). The term ‘big bit’ to my mind carried the meaning - the most of, what little remained was, to the speaker, of little moment. (“It’s nay use comin noo when the big bit o it’s dane”). Numbers are often communicated in a similarly inexact fashion but there would be some general agreement as to their ranking. ‘A wheen’ would be ‘mare nor yin or two’ bit no as mony as a brave wheen’. Slightly larger again is ‘a gether up’ but on occasion this term was applied to indicate a group whose provenance or antecedents were of questionable pedigree, that the quality of the quantity was somewhat below standard (“I went alang but thur wuz only a gether up o thim”). In a similar vein is ‘a clatchin’, a term for a group for a collection of houses or dwellings(“Ye gon past thon clatchin at the cross an the pub’s jist beyond”). Then might come ‘a clatter’ meaning a large number (“We wur jist sittin doon when a clatter o her yins landed”). ‘A lock’ would also be a considerable amount of similar (or possibly slightly greater) value than “a clatter’. There would be fairly wide interpretations with variations bearing, to some extent, on the nature of the matter under discussion; “A lock o yins wudnay hay him aboot thim but he hiz din nathin tay me” almost certainly denotes a different numerical value to that indicated by ‘Me and him went oot an got a lock o drink’ but it is nevertheless an expression of some numerical significance; the first quantifies people while the second counts bottles and halfuns. While it carryies no agreed numerical values, ‘a tear’ would outrank ‘a lock’; I think I would regard the greater drunkard as he who had “tane a tear o drink” rather than he who had “tane a lock o drink” although indubitably both could be referred to as having had ‘a feed o drink’ again, a term of significant quantity. Perhaps conveying that the capacity of our two imagined topers (of whatever magnitude) had been reached, they might be deemed by some to be ‘full’ (“As full as a po” “As full as forty cats” “As full as the eye o a pick”) sometimes rendered as ‘foo’.

Yin Nought Yin or 101

If Ulster Scots could be boiled down to a single word, one individual standard bearer for the entire tongue, there would of course be many candidates, possibly even arguments as to the validity of such a process. Nevertheless, I would suggest that a credible contender might be the word “yin” meaning, to the uninitiated, “one”. First of all, let’s not confuse this latter with the homonym, “wun”, equating to the Standard English “wind” or “breath”, prevalent in such phrases as “ a wun that wud clean coarn” (“a breeze with a significant wind chill factor”) or “A haenae the wun tae dae a this rinnin” (“I’m out of breath after running about”) or indeed, “Keep yer wun tae cool yer parridge” (“Don’t waste your breath giving advice”). The Ulster Scots also suffered grievously with “wun” which could cause “rifts” or even more embarrassing eructations (burps). Or, indeed, other leakages of intestinal gas. Apart from cardinal usage (“yin single thing”), its presence is noteworthy in a number of expressions; “A’ll tell ye yin thing an that’s naw two” (“Allow me to emphasise or clarify”) might be heard from a strong minded and opinionated person. “A the yin thing “ or “A yin” indicates homogeneity in apparently differing propositions. If a person undertook to “gie ye yin” as a reward for an ill turn, it usually meant the use of physical force. If him and her were “the yin age”, they (supposedly) had coincident years since birth. Although even Ulster Scots were sometimes a little economical with the actualité regarding age. Among the most famous (or infamous) uses of “yin” was as a stick to beat County Antrim Orangemen. Legend has it that the Orange Lodge in Cullybackey was designated LOL101 (Loyal Orange Lodge One Hundred and One) rendered by Belfast (half) wits as Yin Not Yin (as opposed to Yin Nought Yin). Following consultations with an esteemed Orange historian, I am assured that LOL 101 was located in Portadown rather than Cullybackey. So much for legends.

I would contend that Ulster Scots is the very embodiment of multi-culturalism. Its roots are in Scots but it draws on Old Norse, Middle English ( a good case in point being shough,  touted by some as a quintessentially Ulster Scots or indeed Irish but a word with an English origin which the English never use but it stayed in vogue here), Irish, Scots Gallic, French (footer, as in footer about, he’s only a footer, this comes from the French futre, which has been translated to me as being the physical act of love so when somebody tells you not to footer aboot, now you know exactly what they are really saying). Ulster Scots draws on Dutch, Swedish, Danish and Norwegian. It’s a mongrel tongue and like all languages, it IS made up, not handed down by God. Or ET for that matter. Visitors have always had difficulties with our local tongue but Americans have had particular problems with Ulster Scots.

Ulster Scots, like English and French, is a magpie language, plucking sparkling bon mots from a wide range of sources, incorporating them into daily speech. What is the English for ZEITGEIST, a German word meaning spirit of the times? It is in fact ZEITGEIST. When we take joy in the misery of others, the mot juste is once again the German word Schadenfreude. This cross fertilisation is the very stuff every tongue spoken in the world and it is as true of the way we speak here in this part of Ireland. People who are not Ulster Scots speakers speak of having a druth. If a friend received a slap in the gub for takkin whun he shud a been listenin, I’d hazard that many here would have a fair idea exactly what had happened. How do you fund a language? I really don’t know. I do know that in the heart of North Antrim, when I approach a major road from a side road, there is a road sign saying STOP. It doesn’t say WHOA, it doesn’t say QUET. This has not been identified as a major road traffic issue. If it were, we may have to reconsider. Then there is the question of first language. Happy those who are multi lingual, whose languages are ranked in order, like an Olympic athletics event. But how are they ranked? By preference? By fluency? By order learnt? Who ranks these languages? The individual? The State? The EU? What is popular opinion? Popular opinion wants the death penalty returned and drunken students jailed. People seem to refer to language as though it were a sentient living entity. It is not. As I mentioned earlier, a poor medium for the transfer and recording of thought, not a living entity. How many speakers are there of each language? A more relevant question is “What is the number of people who only have one language?” I am aware that an ignorance of language can and indeed has been used as a weapon of repression and exploitation but that is a different matter. There is the politicisation of language, the use of language as a badge of national or political identity. The use of language as a weapon. As indicated earlier, language policy is a devolved matter for individual countries, there being no integrated language policy across the whole European community. This means that responsibility for these matters rests with Westminster or Leinster House. Or now, Stormont! At a time of fiscal famine, when schools, hospitals, the arts and roads are being neglected due to belt tightening, can or should precious resources be ploughed into language policy, into duplication of signage, literature, advertisements? I wouldn’t dare to speak for other speakers of Ulster Scots but for me, personally, such duplication is neither necessary nor indeed desirable. One of the most common complaints I hear is that words never used by Ulster Scots speakers are being passed off as Ulster Scots to the general population by people who are passing themselves off as native speakers. Most of the people who now spring to the defence of Ulster Scots are the same folk who a few years ago spent their time making fun of me and others who spoke like me as ignorant uneducated culchies. Plus ca change as we almost say in Ulster Scots. I’d like to read a letter received by the Department of Culture Arts and Leisure, a direct quote from a North Antrim man, writing to DCAL as part of a public consultation and I’m quoting directly from the website.

“I have noticed the DCAL have the following “translation” of the title CULTURE, ARTS AND LEISURE on their notepaper: “Fowkgates, Airts an Aisedom”. I noted the words down and conducted a private survey of native speakers, simply asking them what these words meant. Not one single person could understand ANY of the three words. Out of interest, I asked each person which language they thought it might be and the replies suggested Irish, Welsh or Polish! When I told them it was an Ulster Scots expression, I was laughed to scorn and sent on my way, made to feel foolish and an ignoramus. This will be the reception that will greet those who create or transport alien words to the Ullans speaking areas of Ulster.”

Daenae Tak it Thick

As I have indicated on a number of previous occasions, there are a number of words where our local usage coincides in the main with the use in standard English. There are also a number of words, those with more than one (mair nor yin or wan) usage or meaning, where we share a wheen o the meanings but naw al. The day I’d like to look at “thick”. The most common application in standard English is as a measurement or estimation of density and this usage is shared with Ulster Scots. (“The fog was wile thick ower the bak o the mountain”). There is also a common usage in relation to size (“She gien me a brave thick bit o steak”, not heard often I’ll grant you). Where we part company with standard English is the use of thick as a indication of a person’s character. If an Ulster Scot describes an individual as being “thick”, it is not a measurement of their IQ or there ability to do (tae dae) differential calculus in their head (heid). Rather it is an indication that the person being described is a stubborn individual, not easily given to compromise or a poor prospect in the field of negotiation. (“Thon yin, he’s as thick as champ”; “champ”, as the maist o ye wull dootless be aware, haein naethin tae dae wae the shortened address to a successful boxer but rather being a dish of prootas an scallions (spring onions) wae a guid drap o butter ower the tap an a washed doon wae a jug o coul buttermilk (this last being optional an whiles knowed as “soordook”). “Champ” is “brave pakkin”, a dense and nourishing dish with a habit “o stickin tae yer ribs”. “Thick” here also means difficult and a person so described might be highly intelligent but prone to mood swings and therefore needing careful handling and the application of diplomatic skills. “Thick” is often used as a cognate for “thran”, an adjective used to indicate an awkward individual or job but also meaning twisted, its origin being from “thra” meaning to be awkward and intractable or given to arguing and hair splitting. To suggest that “Him an him’s very thick” is not to cast aspersions on the intellectual abilities of the gentlemen under discussion but means instead that the lads in question are friendly. The expression carries an implication that this friendship might not be a healthy one and this may be an indication that there is a link to the expression “as thick as thieves”. If a boady was said “tae tak it thick” this would not be a signifier of a preference in milk shakes but would instead carry the meaning that the person in question had taken offence (“I argied aboot the money an he tuk it thick” and such a person, having “taen it thick” might then “tak thick” meaning having taken offence, they might then turn stubborn and nasty."