A poem sent in by James Smith, recalling his time as a youngster out and about in Blantyre on his bike.
a wish a could jump on ma bike the morra
n peddle up the sydesbrae or even the cawder
tae park ma griffter up greenhall at the hut
and pay on fur the pitch n put
tae get a wee smile aff ruby again
it always made me feel better even through the rain
even better if the chessies wer there
takin a runner tae fling yer stick in the air
tae get 1one doon ye wer proud as punch
back tae the hut n wee rubys fur lunch
a bottle a coke she,d crack the lid
old style bottles a do not kid
a golden cup n jelly bears
full a sugar but nae 1 cared
nature trail tae the falls
kiddin on we wer soddies
duckin n divin over kid on dead bodies
lookin up at the vioducts only skys to see
tryin tay think about the tracks that used to be
thinkin of the journey the trains took overhead
through the industrial era and the war they fed
but the nature around you, always calmed you down
the singin of birds all around
the sound of the wind n running streams
a can still hear them in ma dreams
tae go back tae the days being a young driffter
just wakinin up and goin a run on ma griffter
tae take in the places that gave me pleasure
ave got ma memories and to me thats ma treasure
certain sights n certain places
mind me of certain people and unforgettable faces
reminissin is a blessin i loved ma past
and a hope every good thing in blantyre lasts
through the changes good n bad alike
al still remember ma wee journies on ma bike