GlescaPals
A wee thought about GlescaPals frae
GlescaPal maggieM 29 Feb 2008
A thread that runs aroon this wurld
A tie that binds us aw'
A link tae hame fur those away
Who still hear Glesca’s call
So many in the USA
From sea tae shining sea
We’re spread oot o'er Canada
Nova Scotia tae B.C.
Thailand, France, South Africa
We’ve all found pals from there
The British Isles, New Zealand too
Advance Australia fair
Each corner of the world is here
Tae laugh and reminisce
Of places, people, bygone days
And the city that we miss
So raise a gless, dear GlescaPals
And shout a hearty cheer
Let’s toast Webmaister McArthur
It’s thanks tae him we’re here~ ~ ~
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1.
He
gave you fair warning whenever he came
though
the tune he played was never the same
in
a neighbouring street a bugler played
and
it wasn’t the lifeboys or boys brigade
all
the young mothers gripped with fear
as
this dreaded bugler came ever near
tis
the ragman playing a chordless tune
the
bedragled Pied Piper of Glesga toon
3.
Took
out a Woodbine the last of his fags
then
he bellowed toys for rags
last
blast on the bugle and then he'd hush
lit
up and waited for the expected rush
the
kids in the street would all go mad
looking
for rags from their mum and dad
in
all the cupboards throughout the rooms
a
handful of rags for a couple of balloons
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2.
Came
into our street pushing his cart
blowing
his bugle right from the start
his
old brown case was full of toys
like
Santa's grotto to the girls and boys
paint
sets and crayons and coloured chalk
to
create a design on your whipping top
spud
guns and peashooters and catapult slings
the
toys of war the ragman brings
4.
With
great anticipation they stood in line
eyes
fixed on the ragman all of the time
no
pounds or ounces of imperial measure
just
a bundle of rags for unlimited treasure
though
I could only stand and stare
we
never seemed to have rags to spare
now
looking back and assessing the facts
all
of our rags were on our backs
.
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The Coming of The Wee Malkies ( by Stephen Mulrine)
Whit'll ye dae when the wee Malkies come, if they dreep doon affy the
wash-hoose dyke
an' pit the hems oan the sterheid light, an' play keepie-up oan the clean close wa,
an blooter yir windea in wi the baw' missis, whit'll ye dae?.
Whit'll ye dae when the wee Malkies come, if they chap yir door an choke
the drain.
an caw the feet frae yir sapsy wean, an tummle thur wulkies through yir sheets,
an tim thir ashes oot an the street, missis, whit'll ye dae?.
Whit'll ye dae when the wee Malkies come, if the chuck thur screwtaps
doon the pan,
an stick the heid oan the sanit'ry man, when ye hear thum come shuchlin doon yir loaby,
chantin, "Wee Malkies" The gemme's a bogey!
haw missis, whit'll ye
dae?.
.sent in by Glesga Pal Ronnie McPhee.
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April
2003, received this poem from John Caldwell
THE
GLESCA MOULD
Take
a big chunk of Glesca ma toon by the clyde
Add a single end in the slum wi the people inside
Some
clabber and middens wi laughter and pain
Then some splashing in puddles jist efter the rain
Add
watching & listening, taking awe in
Enter the pools jist hoping yi’ll win
Add
peevers – peeries – tarry baws oan a string
Wi seturday night parties where they forced yi tae sing
Add
a big jam piece drapped frae a
height
And feel safe and secure by day and
by night
Add
the school furr yer reading and learning the sums
Wi the best teacher the street and the folk in the slums
Add
grannies & grandas wi uncles and aunts
Maw and Da scrimping for all of yer wants
Mould
them all together as you would with clay
The result you will find is the man I am today
John Caldwell
McAlpine
St Anderston 1938
Muslin St Bridgeton 1950
Australia 1965
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