Carradale

[bubbly jock]

Jeest a small effort compared tae the quality stuff yourshelf has shared recently. Is there more to come?

bubbly

[Humphlock]

Well, aye, Bubbly, here's another helping o local lore because ah managed to come on the poem aboot Wee Donald Ban. It's in ma granny's handwriting so it'll take me a wee while to type oot.

-------------------------------------------------------
Wee Donald Ban

Oh wha hasna heard tell o' wee Donald Ban
The drollest bit cratur on Torrisdale lan'
At fishing or shootin or rowing nane can
E'er seek to compare wi that wee Donald Ban.
His hair's just as yellow's the broom on the knowe
And a think like a firtap stuck firm on his brow
Frae the neck to the knees he just measures a span
O a pocket edition is wee Donald Ban.

He whiles carries a gun for the killing o' game
To mak' soups and pies for the brae folks at hame
When he fires at a maukin* its last race is run
Sic a deadly sure marker is wee Donald Ban.
When e'r he appears with his gun in the fields
Helter skelter the rabbits a' tak' to their heels
And the magpies and pigeons and pheasants so gran'
A' cut the acquaintance o' wee Donald Ban.

He's aye courtin the lassies yet ne'er can agree
He can take a bit dram and tell a big lee
And at playing the bagpipes there ne'er was a man
Could e'er haud the candle to wee Donald Ban.
Wi' his pipes and red coat as he struts through the clachan
Some fa' to the dancin' and some to the lauchin'
And at Edinbra' lang syne when his drone he began
The Queen took special notice of wee Donald Ban.

He has a' sorts o' knowledge Gude kens how he got it
How peacocks are proud and how flounders are spotted
And whaur Gaelic language at first was began
Can a' be expounded by wee Donald Ban.
And a' ticklish questions wither guid or profane
Are referred aye to Donald who sure mak's them plain
And if whiles the precentor should be na at han'
Wha's stuck 'neath the pulpit but wee Donald Ban.

O wae's me when death comes and tak's him awa
We'll ha'e grief in the cottage and grief in the hall
Ilk heart will grow saft and ilk face will grow wan
For we'll ne'er see another like wee Donald Ban.
Then lassies o pray that he lang may be spared
To skirl his bagpipes and pay you regard
Show him kindness ye billies on Torrisdale lan'
For a great curiosity is wee Donald Ban.

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*As far as I know, a maukin's a hare.

Angus Mertin's got a nice wee story aboot Donal Ban on the Kintyremag at
http://www.kintyremag.co.uk/1998/19/page8.html

There's no name on the poem so if any o yeez knows who the author wiz, it would be great to find that oot. The language seems tae me tae be more kinna mainstream Scots than the local twang. Mind you, I canna think on any poem written in the pure Carradalian dialect.
Naow there's a challenge.

Ah'm away to ma bed.

[Right Pongal]

Yer great the year Humphlock right enough. We can only live in hope that the Tayinloan tatties are as good.

Rivetting stuff on this thread at the moment and hopefully you'll pour plenty lore from days of yore, to the fore, anymore. We look forward to reading your score, so take the floor and not the door. The crowds will roar, gee us more and we'll laugh until we're hellish sore!

Ah bet ye that young Tosh down there could extract a few tales from his old fla that would be worth the reading. You still hear some great yarns from the retired fishermen, but they're a dying breed, so somebody needs to write it all down for posterity, as there's only going to be one chance!

[general jack o'niell]

priceless, another tri-humph

[Right Pongal]

Come away in General, were not so sensitive in here. The drollness is in us and that's why there will aye be a piece for you at this village's door.

The only snag is that it will soon be time for the 2 stroke mowers to be pulled from the cobwebbed sheds and they'll be cursed for naw starting and the owners will be wishing that they had bothered their erses to drain the fuel tanks and cleaned the clumps of dried gress from the blades at the end of last season. Some wans here don't find the mower they used last year until they give the 'lawn' its annual titivation with the new mower and collide with the overgrown rusting frame.

You should scatter a few handfuls of fermer's fertilizer on your neebours grass two or three times through the summer, just before rain and sit back and watch him keep up with the growth as you pour another cup of tea.

I've been doing that to a local grass cutter now for a few years and if I could find the energy would go and throw some down at the Abbeyfield as well. My wife was just saying that the lawnmowerman looks like he could do with the exercise. Now Morenish, there's another story!

Is Wee Humphlock and them not jeest a great addition to the Forum, giving us all a taste of what the village used to be like and reminding us of some of the great characters that have now departed for Brackley and Waterfoot? They have certainly brought a whole new slant to the proceedings!

[SARID]

Ah had a wee keek at ma Scots Dict in response tae yir questions, an came up wi the
following: "fir--tap" gets a mention. It's an auld word for" pine cone", and originates
in the North -East-------- must hiv come tae Carradale wi some o' thae damned incomers a long time ago
Scowder,(type o' jelly fish) so called because o' its burning sting. The word's used from Orkney tae the Clyde
Am away! am needing to get on, as a'm in a bit o' a boorach

[SARID]

"maukin hase the following meanings:
Hare---- Half-grown awkward lassie-----young hoose--servant------weakling----
female personal name, especially o' the lower classes
So there yeez are!

[SARID]

"maukin hase the following meanings:
Hare---- Half-grown awkward lassie-----young hoose--servant------weakling----
female personal name, especially o' the lower classes
So there yeez are!

[general jack o'niell]

your welcome to come and scatter some in my side garden any time you like, the daughter has a fluffy tail, no she doen't have a fluffy tail, she has a pet which has one (there may be an odd supersteechus seagoer about) who eats all the grass while tryin to dig to china hence the reason why that bit of garden has a look of paschendale about it, i can never find all the dirt to fill the holes back in, so we've turned it into a we puttin green modelled on the hymalayas at st andrews, but theres no grass, it looks a bit like bogheid in january. it'll need reseeding again for the third straight year, i was lazy when i dug the foundations for the conservatory and jist barrowed all the dirt ron the side of the hoose and dumped it there, using the sods to build a bit banking at the edges, good idea at the time but i've never managed to get any good grass to grow on it. your expertise might do the trick and there'll be no auld mowers to find as i don't even cut the grass i've got, thats wit neeburs are for, disna take her five meenits to run her 2stroke over it, besides i'm a fortune in drymix from the petshop.

i'm away to eat the homemade tomato soup the daughter of the house just made for me, complete with homemade croutons, i'm spoilt rotten

[Annie]

Ye know General if ye get the grass seed from the Glen it comes wae Bochans!!!

[ionnsaigh]

An here's me thinkin that awe the grass seed came fae Amsterdam.

[general jack o'niell]

i'll have a bag of each please, medium of first, extra large of second, i've got a rekindled fondness for the stuff, purely medicinal off course!!!!

[ionnsaigh]

See you soon

[Jerry Single]

Now whats this I'm hearing about my beloved glen looking like a down market hotel lobby, turning my highly profitable grocery shop into a mere house albeit with private parking, and worst of all not even being used to front up some highly unscrupulous questionable behind-the-scenes business.Disappointed. To think I once owned every last one of you...

[cuach]

Chuckiebay asked aboot any more McDougalls wie second sight. Ah heard often from an auld wife at Portrigh aboot the time Dunkie saw a battalion o' soldiers marchin' in front o' him over the golf course and in Dunalistair gate. This was in the early hours o' the mornin' when he was comin' home from the fishin'. Do ye think they were comin' from the old castle?