ancient toun o’ kirk an’ spire
Wi’ streets and vennels o’ desire,
Whaur dreams aye fand a safe retreat
An’ mine began on Kirkland Street.
hae some mind o’ fifty-five
An’ o’ the struggles tae survive;
The times were hard — the living sair,
But war-time’s ever hardly fair.
The ration coupons, I mind tae —
But yet we managed day by day.
There was aye crack and aye the thocht,
Aboot the lads wha went and focht.
ran the Glebe and Crosshill Road
As far as Francis’ auld abode;
played ahint the graveyard dyke,
An’ rode the Vennel on a bike!
The Breek an’ Bench stood mony a year
An’ still evokes, aye mony a tear.
Its big Bough Door was fun an’ play,
As was Pat’s Corner, ‘neath the brae;
hae some memory o’ the Cairn
It’s there I first began tae learn;
There was aye fun and games galore
An’ noo an’ then, the auld yin’s roar!
I was puir I didnae ken,
My childhood was yon but-an-ben;
retrospect, were times sae bad?
A’ I could dae was be a lad.
Thus dreams remain my safe retreat,
An’ they belang on Kirkland Street!
August 9, 2010