In 1844 a Blantyre man, Samuel Clifford aged 24, underestimated the Winter weather and sadly was found dead on the outskirts of the village, succumbed to hypothermia. Likely caught out whilst walking home in December that year wearing no overcoat and only a thin shirt and trousers. No more details are known about the accidental […]
Tag: poem
The Blantyre Explosion Poem
This flowing and colourful poem was donated recently by Blantyre Project reader, Maureen Potter. During mid November I visited Maureen at her home in East Kilbride and was kindly loaned a wonderful poetry book, which was given to her ancestor Robert Potter, by the accomplished Scottish poet, Robert Tait in 1919. Although Tait was not […]
My Worldly Goods
Mr William Sharp was a Blantyre man. During the General work strikes of 1921 William and his family lived in a small , cramped and basic room in Shuttle Row, Blantyre Works Village, in the very same building as David Livingstone did 100 years earlier. William was thankful for what he had, which was, by […]
Bothwell’s Bonny Jane Part 1 of 4
Matthew Gregory Lewis was a dramatist and writer born in 1775. He only lived until the age of 43, but successfully managed to publish some very good ballads, poems and stories. Motivated by a visit to Blantyre’s banks of the Clyde in the late 1700’s, Matthew, although not a local man, retold a tale he […]
The Millheugh Bridges
This is a tale o twa Cawther bridges, Wan made o stane, n wan wi wood, Wan stands proudly, a test o time, The others fares no sae guid. Ah remember well when ah used tae play, Under that stane bridge on yon Pech Brae, Paper boats through the tunnels we’d race, Groggin fae the […]
Greenhall Fondly Remembered
I’ve realised how fond I am of Greenhall, With its majestic old trees, proud and tall, A timeless place of beauty and wonder, With chestnut trees in October to plunder. I’m filled with nostalgia as I remember the days, As a child playing there, on the grass I’d laze. Or pestering parents for the pitch […]
The Return ‘o Spirit
Twenty thousand fae four hunner souls, O’er time Blantir grew ‘an grew, Hard workin folks, tae make ends meet, ‘An decent through n through. It started wi monks ‘o which were few, At thon Priory doon the Cawther, A holy place n nice to settle, I’m awfy glad they bothered. Barnhill n Stonefield, folks built […]