A collection of local Poems

~ Mary Burns. Overton Road, Halfway

The Bonnie Lass of Cambuslang

 A Reformer reader, from Cumbernauld no less, has kindly sent this ancient song which expounds the beauty of at least one of the female population of Cambuslang in days gone by. Mrs M Abercrombie, discovered the song in an old newspaper cutting while rummaging in her attic. Entitled “The Lass O’ Cambuslang”, the song originally appeared in a book of Scottish songs over a hundred years ago.

  In a cosy white cottage upon a hill side,
That cheerily looks on the green Vale o’ Clyde,
There lives a braw lassie wi’ sunny brown hair,
An’ a face like the morning, so ruddy and fair.

 I lo’ed her fu’weel when I saw her wee smile,
An’ I thocht in my heart, she look’d kindly the while,
She is gently and gleesome, and free frae a pride,
She’s the bonniest lass on the banks o’ the Clyde.

 O Clyde! though are bonnie while flowing between
The thick twinning branches o’ soft dewy green;
Yet they laneness sae deep was aye dowie to me,
Though the sun briefly lay on ilk wee flower an’ tree.

 The thick twining branches of soft dewy green,
Yet they laneness sae deep was aye dowie to me,
Though the sun briefly lay on ilk wee flower an’ tree.

But the laneness is gane, and thy beauties appear
Like a vision o’ hope  through a sorrowfu’ tear;
Lika soun’ that I hear, an’ lika flower that I see,
Seem happier noo sin’ my love smiles on me.

 When clear merry Kirkburn first meets thy embrace,
A tremulous ripple steals over thy face;
In a moment ‘tis gone—then the gither ye run,
Gaily sparkling’ alang in the licht o’ the sun.

Sae my heart has been flichterin aye sin, the day
I first met my love on the lane Hawthorn Way;
But our hearts mingled aince, then thegither we’ll glide,
 through life, wi the sunshines love by our side.

 Fair, fair be they beauty for ever, dear stream!
On thy gowany banks long may true lovers dream!
My thochts wander to thee wherever I gang,
Sin I met wi’ the bonnie young lass o’ Cambuslang.

                                                                 ~ the end

TO NEWTON WITH LOVE.

 Those who mind o' dear Dr. Ann
Who was so kind, to every woman and man.
At Halloween we’d a’ drop in
To get oor aipples, and to sing.

 That wee place where we used to hide
Doon at the dam, beside the Clyde
We aye recall these happy days,
The smell o' flourish, and oor wet claes.

 Forgot to say, the school's away
But oor names still on the wa.
Had a look the ither day
I intend to tak that awa',

 My footsteps often wander
To the place I still love yet.
Aye, ther’s brocken brae' up yonder,
I turn, my cheeks are wet.

                                         Written by May MacLellan (nee Buchanan)                

CAMBUSLANG

We hae a blythe and cosie den
Ayont the haunts o' Glesca men,
Where blackies loud their music sen'
In gleefu' sang
Alang the bonny Borgie glen
To auld Cam'slang.

Fain would ye bide gine ye but saw
The gowden brooms in masses blaw
And white-thorn sprays like wreaths o'snaw
Aboon the braes,
Where preachin'-wark stirred up them a'
In bygone days.

Oor Winter charms are grand an' free,
Against the lift the leafless tree
In arch and angle tak's the e'e
Wi' pictur swatches
The like o'whilk nae galleree
Of painter matches.

And we hae lads o'pairts and grace
To hand us up and state oor case,
Oor ain Wee Davie sets the pace
When ocht gaes wrang,
He'd e'en the King's High Council face
To help Cam'slang.

Ye'd marvel at the troops o'crows,
O' green peeweeps and landward maws,
That come ere come the Winter snaws
To Kirkburn Glen
To see toshed up in Sunday braws
Oor model men.

                                                              GEORGE MURRAY
                                                                "MILREOCH"

Tanzieknowe

For years I lived in Tanzieknowe
But knew not then, and not till now
Just where I was, I do avow

In Cambuslang I thought to be
(down Cairns Road was home to me)
Until this map has shown me how
I'd lived, in fact, in Tanzieknowe

And now when asked, 'jist where a'm fae'
I find, I hesitate, and say
It's sad, 'wis Cambuslang ... but, hey!
I'm Francie now, of Tanzieknowe


                                                Francie Reilly ~ April 2004

Donated by James Hyslop February 2009   (Click to see)

Doon at the Skudgie

There’s leeches an tolies and things in the watter

But if ah float tae it disney matter

We a’ smell alike so nae’b’dy’s tae blame

At least ah’ll look clean when ah get hame.

Dry and warm on the heat frae the slag

Wipe ma’sel doon wi a bit o’auld rag

Hey Wullie, git oot ‘o’the skudgie

Look there’s Tams cairt we’ll cadge a hudgie.

Up tae the toon ta see the boys

Past snotty wains wi their tatty toys

Here’s a tanner son, dinny greet

An take that bogie aff the street

There’s ‘Daft Wullie’ wi’ his hons oan his heed

Anither glaekit helper the Polis wilnae need

Och well we’re a the same if it comes tae the truth

But nearly a the daft comes oot the mooth

Well here’s the lads noo, an  jings whit a sight

No a penny among them an no a dout alight

Theres tam on the brue, and Jimmy’s been freed

The Jonsies are there tae, but no in the heed

Owen the big yin, taggin along

Hummin some auld unmelodious song

Jo canny, Tam wilnie, Shuggie Disney

Still o’ there, jings, ah wish a wisnie.

                                                                                                              James Harvey, January 2010

Hi Ed, Below you will find a poem written by Mary Burns (McLaughlin) Woodlands Cres. It's about my father, Bill Walker
who was blinded in the war. He was well known around the Halfway.
I don't know how to post it on the site. If you would, I would be so grateful. George Walker. (Apr 10)

When my chin I feel going down
no smiling face, only a frown
I watch the blind man walking along
sightless his eyes, but knowing in song
sightless the eyes that take him ahead
no self pity he walks without dread
forward he goes, head held high
  whistling a tune but never a sigh.  
              

________________________________________ 
Written by Piper Jack Willis Submitted June 2012
Born Kirkhill 1928
Ex Cameronian
National Service 1946-48

Cambuslang Park Centenary
1913-2013

The park has reached one hundred years
We come to celebrate
A ceremony took place back then
At the Mansefield entrance gate

It makes you wonder through the time
How many passed this way
A place to go, forget your woes
Watch children as they play

There is a lot of history
Around the park that we all use
To walk the dog, go for a stroll
Or just enjoy the views

A stone was laid to commemorate
The Preaching Braes it’s true
Whitefield gathered thousands
In seventeen forty two

You can stroll up to the monument
Of the soldier standing there
He reminds us of the fallen
We say a silent prayer

Legend has it the girls face
Was carved in rock by her dad
He made a lasting tribute
Because he was so sad

Men went to the bandstand
To play Quoits and pass the time
It gave a welcome break to them
In their leisure time

The woodland is so full of things
As you wonder through the Glen
The birds the trees the waterways
The chirping now and then

A place for adventure, fun and joy
Open spaces do abound
The play park has a tyre swing
For spinning round and round

So let us all enjoy the park
For many years to come
Let there always be green space
For you and everyone

Anne Flannigan - November 2013


 

Match Jamie    More about him here  (Click to read)

The Little Duchess by Pete McKenna (click to read)

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Following poem donated by Elizabeth Houston Dec 2015

Updated 21 Dec 2015