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Gourdon 1938
- Lifeboat 'Margaret Dawson' |
Gourdon - Sea Pie An' All That Poems |
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This site was last updated 26-Apr-2008 |
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Forsyth - "My Uncle Jock"
A poem by David Fotheringham
Did you play Catty and Batty and Kick the Can,
Have you sailed a corker in the big pool,
Did you ever climb up the apparatus pole,
How often did you cross the widden brig,
You might not remember who was on the throne,
Miss McIntyre and the Friday Band of Hope,
Memories to cherish and things to forget,
Remember the dances in the village hall,
How often did you pull the lifeboat oot,
Jockie Fergie, John Corner, theres lots more to say,
But if you can recall just a few of those things, 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
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. My Uncle Jock 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.
by Jacqueline Cargill (grand-daughter of John 'Sergeant' Cargill)
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