Poems

$Kirk O\' Shotts Manse$

SOME FAMILIAR PLACES ‘ROOND MY HAME

We’re gaun far’s the Lily Loch

This lee-lang day in June

We’ll speel the braes abune Shotts-Burn

An’ sit on Cant Hills croon

Round Kirk-O’-Shotts we’ll dauner slow

An’ muse on bygane days

When Glegly Grossart rambled

oot ower the glens an’ braes

Syne we’ll ca’ at Myres an’ Wastfield

Muirhoose an’ Birniehill

While up by at auld Fortissat

The view oor een will fill

We’ll see Roughdyke an’ Jersey

Green-Hill an’ Fernieshaw

An’ Hillhooserig an’ Penty

While mid-day sunbeams fa’

We’ll strap alang by Hills-O’ Hirst

The ‘Rigs an’ Highmuirheid

We’ll kindly keek at Wellesley

As yont road we speed

We’ll see the Hill an’ Blairmakhole

Knoweheid an’ Quarryneuk

An’ think o’ ither places syne

While forward we maun look

South Blair an’ Blairmains near the loch

We’ll scan while toddlin’ on-

Dewshill, Bentfit an’ Papperthills

Upraised as on a Throne

We’ll westward by Duntilland gang

An’ whiles we’ll fondly see

Some Faint an’ fadin’ traces

O’ Hamestead, Bush an’ tree

By Lane Mountcow an’ Braco Glen

oor feet will hameword turn

Doon past Loch-Hill and Annies-Hill

ower Tipper-Davy Burn

There may be brawer places ‘tweel

than thae wild rugger hills

But aye some glamour lingers

Roond sic moors an’ mossy rills

There’s calm the toon can never ken

there’s halesome caller air

There are whisp’rings in the silence

That I hear nae ither where

Far, far awa’ there’s mony a ane

Wha weel would like to stray

‘Mang kindly friends on Hills O’ Shotts

The Green, the Grim, the Grey

May peace an’ joy be in the hearts

O’ friends ayont the sea

Baith here an’ there may a’ leal folk

In harmony agree

JERSAY BRIG.

Should ye care for soothin’quateness

Awa’ frae car or gig,

Come ye wi’ me, if ye’re willin’

The road by Jersay Brig.

Far oot on a peacefu’ muirlan’

Broon, and rocky, and big,

There’s a hantle sykes and burnies

And a’e wee auld-time brig.

Langsyne aroon’ this high muirlan’

Mony a weel-plooghed rig,

And mony a lowly homestead

Was seen near Jersay Brig.

Aft atweel in years depairted

The feck o’ folk would dig,

A stack o’ peats for the winter

Frae muirs around the brig.

A’e day when the wind was reezie

An auld man lost his wig,

An his hat forby, in crossing’

The open muirlan’ brig.

It is telt that steerin’ ladies

Wha caired na e’en a’ a fig,

In sicht o’ the Kirk folk dookit

In burnie near the brig.

Braw lads and lassies at nicht fa’

Unco fond o’ a jig,

Merrily danced on the green swaird

Abune the auld stane brig.

Syne quately when drooped the gloamin’

A’e lassie, weel-faured, trig,

Crackit lang time wi’ her laddie

In bield o’ Jersay Brig.

jersay_brig_2

THE SILENT MILL.

Owre the waistlin’ rim o’ the Parish o’ Shotts

Doon the braes frae the Linnrigs twa,

There’s a deep, steep Glen weel clad wi’ trees

Airts onward near Chapelha’,

And weel I wat ilka time I see ‘t

To me it’s by-ordinar’ braw.

In days lang gane an auld Meal Mill

Hummed blithe at heid o’ the Glen,

And the water that made the wheels gang roond

Cam’ frae hills o’ Shotts ye ken,

O, a bonnie place and a cheery place

Was the Glen o’ the Fairies then.

The Shotts burn wimples frae yont the Kirk

Up by on the bare braeside,

Then sings its sang roon mony a turn

‘Tween Peatpots and Langside,

To me atweel it’s a loe’some burn

Tho’ it isna deep or wide.

Noo, there’s roofless wa’s and a Silent Mill

Whaur the Fairy Glen begins,

Nae mill wheen’s splash, nor happers click

I’ the lade nae water rins,

And lanesome like the burn slips by

In its track frae the muirlan’ linns.

ON THE SLATE?

The Kirk roof, we have found o’ late,

Is badly in the need o’ slate;

Nae shame tae roof, the puir, auld fella,

But soon we’ll need oor umbarella!

Through rain, hail, snaw, up on the hill,

The Kirk may staun’ a long time still,

But, if we dinna act the noo,

We’ll sit there in a soggy pew!

Some men went up tae check the slate,

And cam doon wi’ an estimate;

Haunded it ower, wi’ dooncast een,

And then we made an awfu’ scene!

Thirty thou! – the figure quotit,

Needless to say, we hivna got it!

But, though the sum sounds much too dear,

It could be paid – ower a year …..

Three hunder member we do hiv,

And now must ask then all to give

Twa pund a week; it’s no’ too much,

If we cut doon on cigs. and such!

Whit’s this? The Kirk takin’ on tick?

“It’s frae the deil!” “We’ll no hae it!”

But “slate” is now the world’s way,

If what we want, we canna pay.

So dig in deep, yir haun’ tae pockit,

Or when in Kirk, ye may get soakit!

I know this is a lot tae ask,

The fundin’ o’ this awesome task;

But think, you people shy to pay,

You may yet want the Kirk some day.

-David J. Nelson (Sept. 1997)

Thoughts on Kirk O Shotts

The cauld March wind blaws frae the East
The blast comes o'er Shotts mair
and we seldom gie a passing thocht
To our forbears lying there

Nae cairn is there to mairk the spot
of folk we proudly own
Nae sculptured marble has been their lot
Nor yet an inscribed stone

But we who bear that ancient name
And maintain it with great honour
Commit ourselves its right to fame
Our glorious name of Connor

Ephraim Connor [1891-1980]

THERES A FOOL MOON OVER SALSBURGH

Theres a fool moon over Salsburgh

‘ Tis the time that I do dread

For werewolves’ prowl , vampires fly

Then comes the walking dead

They wait in dark filled places

For innocents to come their way

Then with tooth and claw and bloodied axe

Another one do slay

So close all curtains , Lock all doors

Hold the crucifix for all to see

Yes,

There’s a Fool moon over Salsburgh

And the lunatics are free …
John Bergin

DAE YE MIND?

Dae ye mind the auld Kirk O’ Shotts

Wi’ Hartwood Towers nearby

The Auld Bog Road you’ve often trod

A thirst to satisfy

There’s Woodypoint and Murdostoun

I’m sure you’ve coorted there

There’s Kingshill Bings that can be seen

For mony a mile and mair

There’s Dura Kirk and Fanny’s Burn

The Heidless Cross an a’

A few place names you’ll aye recall

When you’re sae far awa

Nae doot you’ll mind o’ mony things

And a’ the folks at hame

But mind that we a’ mind o’ you

And wish you back again.

FARM TOONS IN SHOTTS PARISH.

Weel oot frae a’ the city’s thrang, this langest day in June

Aroon’ Knowenoble’s woods and braes, the scene seems a’ in tune.

A langsome upward journey noo, we glegly here begin

Ere nichtfa’ mony a mile we’ll gang by hill and loch and linn.

Gaun on by Swinstie, Spindleside, we’ll see auld Windyedge,

Broonhill and braw Knowenoblehill, adorned wi’ tree and hedge.

On far’er north, past twa Linriggs, and Fairybank ane sees,

Gartness, Bowhouse, Dunsyston’s twa, twa Bothwellshields, Tardees.

Millfarm, Craigen’ and Gimmerscroft, Coo-brae and Moffats twa,

Syne frae Stepends and Annieshill we clim’ by Berryswa’.

The Lily Loch and Caldercruix, East Braco and Hillen,

A’ eastward lie, but weel I wat, auld time flees on, ye ken.

Gaun past Lochhill and auld Banken’, Drumbowie’s next I trow

East frae Roughrigg big loch we see Duntilland and Mountcow.

Blackrig, Langside, Langacre, we’ll keek at while we speed,

Peatpots, Muirha’ and Goodoakhill, Shotts Myers, The Glebe, Craighead.

By Blackhill, Auchinlea, Greenhill, richt up the braes we’ll spin

Scrieve on by Hareshaw, Fernieshaw and auld Backmuir look in.

The Hill O’ Murdostoun we’ll see amang its gaucy trees,

Then Easterhouse and Penty next, ‘mang woods and grassy leas.

While lookin’ owre by Hartwood Towers we’ll mind the auld Meal Mill

Beside Sooth Cather Water track that comes frae Benhar Hill.

On by Muirhoose and Birniehill, and Jersay blithe we stap,

Yet no’ forgettin’ Hillhooserig, weel sooth on yon knowe tap.

Owerby that airt is Ladylands, Dykeheid and fair Roseha’

Yont Catherheid is Rimmon Croft near peacefu’ Starryshaw.

Westfield, Roughdyke, Fortissat Mains – Fortissat up the brae

But noo on Cant Hill croon we rest, this bonnie simmer day.

When air is clear the sichts are gude, sae fair and far the view

Though here ane fain could linger lang, we on maun gang anew.

Shotts Kirk and Inn, and Shottsburn Farm, ‘mang upland scenes are here

A’e fond look roond we gi’e to a’ then eastward fainly steer.

Dewshill, Bentfit and Pappithills upraised as on a throne,

The Hirsts and Blairmains, near the Loch, we scan while shankin’ on.

Sooth Blair, twa Hassockriggs we see, The Baton and Broonhill,

Syne Welleslea and High Muirheid, whaur gowfers try their skill.

Ahint the hichts a bittie north, are Forrest, Forrestdyke,

And yon lang Loch, seen frae the train, whaur a’ may fish wha like.

Snod Reeziehill, The Toll and Baads, Bogen’ and Forrestburn,

Wi’ Blairmuckhole, Knoweheid, Treesbank and maun be seen in turn

Bankheid, auld Back O’ Moss, Paxstane, Balbaikie far’er on

Next Blairmuckhill, the Hill, the Mains syne Netherton and Loan.

Come noo, cheer up! We’re maistly hame, past Torrance at Northrig,

We turn oor face to hinmost place – Standhill beside Blackrigg.

Oor langsome ramble noo is owre, through Shotts high countryside,

And weel we ken that kindly folk in hamely bields abide.

Gude speed to a’ ye farmer folk! O’ health and best success.

May ilka ane ha’e gudely share, wi’ cares that lichtly press
John Black

The love of this land

It’s not in the mountains and glens, though beautiful they are for sure

Nor the myths and the songs of the past, they also have their allure

Nor even the causes for pride, the struggles we’ve had to endure