ELLEN
Aye. A dream’t A wis gaun in a field an’ the grass wis green, greener than life, an’ there wis coos in it and sheep-no’ dirty, blackened beasts like whit’s here, bit whit ye wid fancy they wid be some place whaur there isnae always smoke. An’ A walked in the field an’ the sun wis shinin’ an’ it cam’ dark suddent an’ A couldnae see the coos nae mair. There wis thunder an’ it frichtened me an’ whin A cam’ tae look up again, it wis rainin’ bluid on ma heid, naethin’ bit bluid, an’ the field ran rid wi’ it. Bluid everywhaur, naethin’ bit bluid.