Dialect Coaching - How to Begin to Prep For a Scottish Accent

Hello there, all those of you who wish to study an accent or a dialect!

If you have been wondering how to begin to prep for a Scottish accent, do take a look at this terrific dialect poem by Carol Ann Duffy.

Spell by Carol Ann Duffy

A clip of thinder ever the reeftips 
sends like a bimb going iff! 
My hurt thimps in my chist.

It’s dirk. The clods are block with reen. 
The wand blues in the trays. 
There’s no mean.

I smuggle ender my blinkets 
and coddle my toddy. 
Sloop will have drums in it.

Carole Ann Duffy was born in Glasgow but left very early in her life to live in Staffordshire where she ‘lost’ her native accent, as many of us do at some point or another. We want so much to fit in with our peers.

It is a pressure this accent thing - especially when young - not wanting to be seen as different. Our accent sounds pinpoint us socially and, unfairly, in giving away our class, we can become such easy pickings for taunting, jokes and mis-communication.

This poem is written so wonderfully in dialect which helps us to jump into some of the key points needed for studying those challenging Scottish sounds.

Here are 3 points to practise towards acquiring the sounds you need and a reason to jump in!

1) the/i/vowel - every time you see it in a word - change it for a schwa - which is sounded as a hesitation - uhh...

So, the word ‘hit’ will result in huht

Kilt will result in kuhlt

Ship will result in shuhp

If will result in uhff.

So, here, as it is written in the poem - a clip of thinder ever the reeftops becomes...

a cluhp of thuhnder ever the reeftuhps

a bim going iff becomes…

a buhm going uhff

It takes a while and - I know - not all the words written with /i/ in this poem have /i/ in their original spelling - but - and please bear with me! - they do in this dialect piece so let’s just go with that to help us vocally access this beautiful, bouncy, muscular poem that was written for children.

2) Let’s try for that wonderful /r/ sound which is made as a tap or flap - let your tongue ‘flirt’ with your gum ridge whenever you see the consonant written and you will be on the way to finding the correct placement.

So, A cluhp of thunder ever the reeftuhps - do have a go!

Its dirk moves to Uhts duhrk

Sloop will have drums in it moves to…

Sloop wuhl have drums uhn uht

3) For the last of these key notes - have a try at changing the English /o/ sound [as in ‘on’]

Still thinking of /o/ make the sound /aw/ - placing your lips gently forward, a little like a trumpet.

So, coddle my toddy moves to the gorgeous cawdle my tawdie

The clods are block with reen moves to - the clawds are blawk with reen....

This should keep you heavily focussed for a while!

Here is the translation of the poem to help things along...

A clap of thunder over the rooftops Sounds like a bomb going off! My heart thumps in my chest. It's dark. The clouds are black with rain. The wind blows in the trees. There's no mean. I snuggle under my blankets And cuddle my teddy Sleep will have drums in it.

To finish, do take a read through Carol Ann Duffy’s lovely poem below which is all about her move from her native Scotland and the memories of leaving the place she called home.

Originally by Carol Ann Duffy

We came from our own country in a red room
which fell through the fields, our mother singing
our father’s name to the turn of the wheels.
My brothers cried, one of them bawling, Home,
Home, as the miles rushed back to the city,
the street, the house, the vacant rooms
where we didn’t live any more. I stared
at the eyes of a blind toy, holding its paw.

All childhood is an emigration. Some are slow,
leaving you standing, resigned, up an avenue
where no one you know stays. Others are sudden.
Your accent wrong. Corners, which seem familiar,
leading to unimagined pebble-dashed estates, big boys
eating worms and shouting words you don’t understand.
My parents’ anxiety stirred like a loose tooth
in my head. I want our own country, I said.

But then you forget, or don’t recall, or change,
and, seeing your brother swallow a slug, feel only
a skelf of shame. I remember my tongue
shedding its skin like a snake, my voice
in the classroom sounding just like the rest. Do I only think
I lost a river, culture, speech, sense of first space
and the right place? Now, Where do you come from?
strangers ask. Originally? And I hesitate.

Poetry is such a treat for accent and dialect coaching, and helps so much in finding rhythm and tune. It allows us to engage with these new sounds; to encourage them to flow energetically forward!

Ros