CAN YOU REMEMBER.

Did you play Catty and Batty and Kick the Can,
Buy sweeties at Bannermans and Lizzie Ann,
Sit on the Gurlin stairs wi'your pals for a yarn,
Or boil buckies in a tin at the back o'the barn.

Have you sailed a corker in the big pool,
Or made a catty's tail wi'odd bits o'wool,
Did you ever make your own poddly wand,
Catching poddlies at the Gutty was just grand.

Did you ever climb up the apparatus pole,
Or play treacle ower the warehole,
Have you flown aeroplanes at the quarries,
Or scrambled for pennies when somebody marries.

How often did you cross the widden brig,
Runnin up and doon when playing at tig,
Fa'en smokies-you surely remember the taste,
Wi' hordes o' bairns nothing went to waste.

You might not remember who was on the throne,
But you'll mind Jimmy Cook and the "I'm Alone",
The Margaret Dawson and the Maggie Law,
And countless fishing boats that are noo awa.

Miss McIntyre and the Friday Band of Hope,
(With marvellous pictures in Cinemascope?),
No, it was slides projected on to the screen,
From Dovey and his magic lantern machine.

Memories to cherish and things to forget,
Like those open middens-I can still see them yet,
And we must not forget who cleaned them of course,
Andrew Clink and Queenie his faithful old horse.

Remember the dances in the village hall,
Wi MC Andy Simpson always on call,
Take your partners for the Patternelly,
Happy days before advent of telly.

How often did you pull the lifeboat oot,
(Not everyone got checks who were hanging aboot),
The new dykes are still there but they'r not very new,
And the Partin Roadie is overgrown noo.

Jockie Fergie, John Corner, theres lots more to say,
Georgina's parrot squawking "Frankie" all day,
Mac-the stationmaster-thers no station -no train,
People and places only memories remain.

But if you can recall just a few of those things,
And enjoy happy thoughts remembering brings,
Then all I can say is very plain to see,
You were surely brought up in Gourdon -the same as me.

Sadly David has passed away since I placed his poem on the web site.Also Shiela and Aileen his sisters are no longer with us and this is a permanent reminder of David and his family

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Alex Forsyth - "My Uncle Jock"

This is a poem written in the 1950s by the late Alex Forsyth of Granton Gardens Edinburgh about his uncle ( my maternal grandfather John Fotheringham," Deddie Jock") which I found recently hidden away in the covers of a book.

Just a tribute to a grand old man, a man whom we hold dear,

Who has reached the age of eighty five, this coronation year.

He’s set an example to us all, a credit to our race,

And if we had more like him , the world would be a better place.

For all his life ,let it be said, he always played the game,

Throughout the years, good times or bad, he’s always been the same,

And life was not always easy for old folks just like him,

And at times down there in Gourdon , things were mighty grim.

For many a hard luck story has my father told to me,

Of the fight they had in times gone by , to wrest a living from the sea.

Of the hardships and the poverty, and the struggle to survive,

But he won through and Im proud to say, today he’s eighty five.

He has no grand or fancy airs, no bluster or false pride,

He’s been the family mainstay, a true and faithful guide

His step’s still brisk, his eye still keen, on his face a cheery grin,

I only hope at eighty five I’ll be the same as him.

Just a humble honest fisherman, with a heart of purest gold,

Lets thank him now for all he’s done, now that he is growing old

And who is this man with virtues rare, as steady as a rock

Why he ‘s one of natures gentlemen, yes, that’s my uncle Jock.

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Memories of the Past

by Jacqueline Cargill (grand-daughter of John 'Sergeant' Cargill)

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