Here’s a great poem by Helen Connor. Titled, “I remember the Blantir“, its likely modern and was shared here recently.
A remember the Blantir, where a yist tae bide,
Cloases wi stairs up, where weans used tae hide,
Coal cellars oot the back, aw in a row,
The midden at the end, where yer telt, no tae go!
An there wis the washhouse, the pride aw the place,
We weans played in the biler, oan hoat summer days,
The park across the road, wis once foo o coos,
Noo it’s goat gairdens, hooses and doos.
Wance ther wur shoaps, aw alang the Main Street,
Noo thats jist Asda, it wid make ye greet,
An ther wis the park, we saw bilt oot o ashes,
Wis wance a great place, fur the boys an the lassies.
We went tae the co gala, an we follied the brawn,
Oor tinnies taped up and our tickets in haunds.
In Summer, the Cawther, or doon the Clyde Braes,
Ye jist wore yer sannies, an wore yer auld claes.
Noo thers no much ye can do in Blantire at aw,
Thers no even the Dookit, or Broadway picture hawl
Thers nae Parish Buildings, an nae Kelly’s Corner,
Auchinraith Roads ther, but Buggy Building nae longer.
Nae Nessies School, the Co or Hills Pawn,
Jist like Blantir Gazette, they’re aw gawn.
Naw Blantirs no Blantir, its no the same noo.
Bit ahve goat ma dreams, an mibbie ye hiv too!
Am Still here in Blantir , an although its no the same,
Nae matter where ah go, its tae Blantir ah come hame.
Hello Paul,
Inspired by the poetry yesterday I decided to think about and write something in a similar vein to record my first day at Nessie’s skuil! I hope you like it, it’s just as it happened and I still see it in my mind’s eye as if it were yesterday, but with the veil of time putting a good mist around it so that I don’t feel that strap on my hand any longer. here it is then:
Nessie ma ain skuil
Author: Linda Margaret Mackie-Marieskind 15/11/2020
A’ wen’ tae Nessie’s Skuil, alang wi the rest,
Awe the wee bairns, frae hame, frae their nest.
A’ clapped ma een oan a wain wi a tear,
She sat there, ahint her desk, wi a fear o
That wumanin black an’ a face like a peer.
A wen’… tae pit.. ma airm.. oan her shouder,
She was wabbit and tremalt, pair erms a’ shoogle
The wuman in black caw’d me oot tae the middle
She wieldit thoan belt wi a face like a fiddle
Brocht it doon oan ma haun…. for me a riddle!
A’ wis jis tryin’ tae help, a poor wean affy sair,
Tae be leavin’ her mammie.. oot oan the stair
O’ the trouble I goat for leavin’ thawn chair,
Tae gae her a wee bit o’ blether tae calm her
But thaw’s nae allowt…. tae gie oany shel’er
Tae yin wha’s greetin’… or ye’ll gei her a bel’er.
Awa’ ur the days o’ these memiry bites
‘Miss Neilsen’ is gone as a’ the fights,
the rants An’ the raves o’ teachers nae mair,
Frae Nessie’s School noo, the thochts repair,
the visions awe great, o’ the time we hud there..
love the poems, i have seen one before somewhere, but so right…I been away fae Blantir’ for 57 years, still in my heart and fond memories, a blantir lass through and through!!