Well known books by famous authors get translated into different languages all the time. However for a while now there's been a drive to have more translated into Scots.
Whether Scots (originating in the Scottish Lowlands, as opposed to Scottish Gaelic which was/is more prevalent in the Highland and Islands) is a distinct and separate language or as just a regional dialect, is fiercely debated in some circles, and I don't know enough on the subject to get involved.
What is certain though, is Scots does make up part of the rich culture of Scotland, especially as it was the language of choice for "The Bard", Robert Burns. And you can guarantee across the land, on the run up to Burn's Night (25th January), schools were setting all sorts of assignments based on it.
Now some of you may be familiar with Roald Dahl's George's Marvelous Medicine. I would guess far fewer will be familiar with the Scots translation by Matthew Fitt, called Geordie's Mingin Medicine. And even less will have heard Meg reading an extract.
One of the odd things about your own family is that you don't hear their accents. You recognise their voices, but because you hear them talking every day, you cease to notice the regional differences and inflections.
And so it is with Meg. I know it might sound strange, but it's never particularly crossed my mind that she would have a Scottish accent - Meg's voice is just Meg's voice. But hearing her reading an extract of Scots out loud, I became very aware of it, especially as I know if I were to try it would just sound like an English guy trying to use Scottish words.
With the exception of Sam and Dr Maroon, and unless you're familiar with Scots, I don't expect anyone to be able to follow what's being said, so here's the text and you can have a bit of fun translating it back into your version of English.
And if you get really stuck you can always try the online Scots-English Dictionary.
So here's the text, and you can hear Meg reading it below
An Extract of Geordie's Mingin Medicine by Roald Dahl, Translated by Matthew Fit
Weel, weel! Thocht Geordie, aw O a sudden. "Fings-bings! Richtitie-pichtitie! I ken exactly whit I'll dae. I'm gonna mak her a new medicine, a magic medicine, naw a mingin medicine is what we're gonna hae!"
Sae gie me a golach and a lowpin flee,
Gie me twa mauks and speeders three,
And a slivverie skoosher fae the sea,
And a poisonous jag fae out a bumbee,
And the juice fae the fruit o the pokey-hat tree,
And the poodered bane o a wombat's knee.
And a hunner ither things and aw,
Things wi a hummin honkin blaw.
I'll steer them up, I'll bile them lang,
A mixter roch, a maxter strang.
And then, bang-wallop, doon it gaes,
A guid big spoonfu (mind yer taes)
Jist gowp it doon, and hae nae fear.
"Hoo's that for ye, Grannie dear?"
Will she lauch or will she greet?
Will she tak aff doon the street?
Will she explode in a fuff o reek?
Or blaw herself intae nixt week?
Wha kens? No me. Let's hing on and see.
(I'm gled it isnae you or me.)
Och Grannie ye've no got a clue
Whit I'm gonnae mak for you!
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