Carradale

[4th gen Suthen']

You're gettin' more like your avatar every time I see you HT

[Right Pongal]

absolutely

Thank goodness there are still some like-minded people in this village. Not that I'm entirely into 'Doom and Gloom' you understand, although the syndrome does kick in a bit at this time of year. No, it's damned ridiculous, 16 & 17 year olds smoking and drinking, it'll be........ no, surely not.

I suppose that I have to admit that most of the morally uncorrupt in the village have come from the ferming fraternity, but with all that insemination going on round about them, I'm damned if I understand why. One old skipper told me that after a day in the fank, most fermers are off the notion, but the odd one leaves wae a ewe on each erm. I never realised the significance until our first trip to the Hebrides.

I hadn't realised that the Vikings had originally named the islands 'Sheepbrides' but this was later abreviated by the Kirk, keen to try and entice new blood into the gene pool. There were a few Kintyre fishermen who pretended that they were eager participants, but the engagement rings were on a bit of mending twine so that they could easily be recycled.

Anyway Morenish, you stick to your guns and keep it Pongal, and make sure thon Sanyanya is not entertaining in yer shed!

[morenish]

that was some shower, hoot colour was them gleshans to be again bochan?

now pongal i may be getting cofused here but are you tryin to tell us some o the carradale fisherm...... folk were trying to get off wi the crofters on the outer isles!?!?!

mach gearen!

hugh trouser do you know anything about this?

as for sanyana that sheds too cold for any notions of that nature.

[Bochan Mor]

that was some shower, hoot colour was them gleshans to be again bochan?

now pongal i may be getting cofused here but are you tryin to tell us some o the carradale fisherm...... folk were trying to get off wi the crofters on the outer isles!?!?!

mach gearen!

hugh trouser do you know anything about this?

as for sanyana that sheds too cold for any notions of that nature.

Morenish, as I've warned you before, you're naw meant to eat the gleshan!


Maybe nibble at it, but certainly don't eat it!

[Right Pongal]

Yes folks, Morenish's legendry weather forecasting skills are nothing but a sham. It turns out that he subscribes to some newsgroup in Manitoba, calculating and hence predicting, with what has seemed like some level of authority and accuracy, the shape of things to come over here.

Behave yersel Bochan; Morenish has managed to get one over you here with this tale of Manitoba. Thon fabrication is not even half right, if the truth be told. No, I overheard him telling another old worthy the same fable over at Snoddy's waiting room. The main difference being that Manitoba was substituted with a Man in toba mory. I knew damn fine that Morenish wouldna be wasting money on phone calls across the Atlantic. I'm sure he won't even phone his cousins on the other side of the village, opting to send Sanyanya wae a note instead.

As for the cultural attaches in the Western Isles, where the devil did you think that the term 'Crofter' originated from when refering to a Carradalonian (NB: This is not the name of a boat)? That's another reason that the Gaelic survived here and in Terbert with the outgoing generations.

Sanyanya the soul, it's not only notions that will be affected by the cold. I would imagine it would also have an adverse affect on his motions. I hope you split a fresh bit of hose to go around the edge of the 5 gallon drum, as there's nothing like someone elses calling card for sending the sausages back to the butcher!

[Annie]

Hey Bochan, check out this website!! You've got a cousin Bochan in Oahu, Hawai'i!!!

http://home.hawaii.rr.com/bochansurf/index.html

[Bochan Mor]

I have heard of 'I'll put the bochan on you' etc.

So what exactly is a Bochan?

Don't know if this helps? It is part of a translation of a Gaelic song from Cape Breton. Some of the little hairy ones apparently left these shores with the emigrants.......

Johnny Tulloch

Johnny Tulloch agus Mary
agus Iain Alex Rory
Angus Hector, Mary Sarah,
Archie Dan, Alex Joe
Little Johnny Dougal agus
Theresa Duncan Peter
All piled in a wagon for
a dance in Glencoe
Well they barrelled down
the back roads
By the farmhouse and the pasture
They barrelled down the back roads
Where the bochans wouldn't go
Sipped a little dealach just to
get the diddle flowing
Sang a gaelic song there was no radio

After the last rout here in Carradale, some of the Bochans moved to more exotic locations. Try these websites: http://home.hawaii.rr.com/bochansurf/ http://www.ananova.com/news/story/sm_394521.html?menu=& http://community.webshots.com/user/bo_bochan
&

Maybe these fellas can tell you more of our hidden past

Wakey Wakey Annie: Go back to page 2 of this thread and smell the coffee. Here, I'm away to make myself scarce, as I shouldna be here!

[Annie]

That was 94 pages ago! Geesh! My memory aint even that long! Geeza brek!!!


See! Tis the auld Bochans! They are eating the gleshans and up to their old tricks now that the nights are dark and long!!!

Away wae ye and drink yer auld Nescafe!

[Sanyanya]

That was 94 pages ago! Geesh! My memory aint even that long! Geeza brek!!!


See! Tis the auld Bochans! They are eating the gleshans and up to their old tricks now that the nights are dark and long!!!

Away wae ye and drink yer auld Nescafe!

No wonder your avatar is looking tired Annie, after visiting this thread around 50000 times.

There seems to have been a few drop outs along the way, and I doubt that the Bochan and Morenish can keep this up to the 100k mark. I mean to say, there is damn all happening here these days anyway. No, it's all happening in Poland now. The young crofters cann't afford a night in good old CN, so they pack their bags for Poland.

The skippers aren't completely enamoured by this however, as fishermen still don't have wristlet watches and more often than not sleep in for the inward bound flight. Thankfully, there are a number of ex-Balkan residents on hand to clear the orange shellfish from deck, to table, to basket, to box, to quayside, in between catering for the anally retentive skipper who is unable to leave the wheel long enough to relieve himself of his burden.

There is a lot to be said for the ancient trade of hand gathering molluscs.

[Annie]

There is a lot to be said for the ancient trade of hand gathering molluscs.

Hey, I picked my fair share of whilks!!!

[morenish]

"where the bochans wouldn't go"?????????????

them puchers were never afraid to go anywhere, an so far they're not even frightened to come back!
they're a bad cross really, carradale wi a bit o utter hebridean thrown in,hmmmmmmm is that what you meant pongal?

aye annie, the fella here was seen trying to balance on a laptop as he scooted doon the stairs but i think it was just a poor attempt at humour.

did i see you on the tv last night snoddy?
i'm sure it was you i saw in the background,marching around in oban wi a placard proclaiming "the end of labour is nigh" an wearing a wee black ribbon the same shape as the breast cancer folk hand oot.

an sanyana is sacked and put out of the shed, the pucher was wantin expenses!
i sent him wi a note to a fella i thought lived 1/2 a mile away, he was gone for 8 days!
turns out the fella had gone to lamb ewes near invercargil and sanyana "dutifully" he says delivered it in person, then claimed expenses!
no,no.NAW he can go back to living in his canvas cottage on the shore an pick wilks.
an in case he thinks he can claim unfair dismissal ,i have taken legal advice from shore,shore solicetors and notorious and have forged 2 written warnings to keep me in the clear.

[Snoddy]

"where the bochans wouldn't go"?????????????


did i see you on the tv last night snoddy?
i'm sure it was you i saw in the background,marching around in oban wi a placard proclaiming "the end of labour is nigh" an wearing a wee black ribbon the same shape as the breast cancer folk hand oot.

Indeed it was me that was holding onto the large balloon on the opposite side of the road from the Corran Halls. I had drafted young Snoddy in to bolster the cause. I know that he landed at Prestwick Airport on Wednesday afternoon, but he has yet to show face here.

It cannot be easy working for an international drug company, and possibly he was called away on other more lucrative business. There could be an opening here for young Sanyanya, if he is willing and able to proudly sport the blue rosette!

[Bobbie En Tejas]

Indeed it was me that was holding onto the large balloon on the opposite side of the road from the Corran Halls....

[Annie]

"Here is a poem I found on the net for all you Sutheners!"


Flory Loynachan was born in 1810 at Shennachie, in the Leewardside of Southend. The poem was written in 1832 while Flory was housekeeper to her cousin in Kilblaan. Various men have been suggested as the author. Not long afterwards, Flory went to Canada, and there married a Mr. McGilvary.


Flory Loynachan
A Poem

O, it buitie be an ogly thing
That mougres thus ower me.
For I scrabed at mysel' yestreen,
And couldna bab an e'e.
My heart is a' to muilins minched.
Brye, smuirach, daps and gum,
I'm a poor cruichach, spalyin' scrae,
My horts hae struck me dumb.


Dear Flory Loynachan, if thou
Thro' Sanna's soun' wert toss'd,
And rouchled like a shougie-shoo
In a veshal with one mast;
Though the night was makan' for a roil,
Though rallaich were the sea,
Though scorlins warpled my thowl pins,
My shallop wad reach thee.


Thour't not a hochlan scleurach, dear,
As many trooshlach be;
Nor I a claty skybal thus
To sclaffer efter thee;
Yet haing the meishach, whare first
I felt love's mainglin' smart,
And haing the boosach dyvour too,
Who spong'd from me thine heart.


O! rhane a Yolus Cronie - quick -
Across this rumpled brain!
Bring hickery-pickery - bring wallink,
Droshachs, to soothe my pain!
Fire water - fill a spoucher dull -
These fryan stouns to stay!
For like a sporrow's scaldachan
I'm gosping night and day.


Were I the Laird o' Achnaglach,
Or Kilmashenachan fair,
Crockstaplemore, Kilwheepnach,
Feochaig or Ballochgair,
Did I inherit Tuyinreoch,
Drumgarve, or Ballochantee,
Creishlach, or Coeran - daing the bit
I'd fauchat them a' for thee!


O, the Clabbydhu, it loves the Trinch,
The Cruban the quay-neb,
While the Anachan and Brollachan,
They love the mussell-ebb.
The Muirachban the Dorling loves,
And the Gleshan, and Guildee,
They love to plouder through the Loch,
But Flory, I love thee!

[Bochan Mor]

Are any of you young pups aware of the Kintyre dialect Poem/Song called Flory Loynachan? There are probably enough old words in it to keep this message board going to infinity. I've heard Davie Robertson recite it and I think he might have a tune as well. Anyway, check it out below

http://www.kintyremag.co.uk/1997/03/3page2.html

Here's one to start with, probably one of the better known ones:


Flory Loynachan

O, it buitie be an ogly thing
That mougres thus ower me.
For I scrabed at mysel' yestreen,
And couldna bab an e'e.
My heart is a' to muilins minched.
Brye, smuirach, daps and gum,
I'm a poor cruichach, spalyin' scrae,
My horts hae struck me dumb.


Dear Flory Loynachan, if thou
Thro' Sanna's soun' wert toss'd,
And rouchled like a shougie-shoo
In a veshal with one mast;
Though the night was makan' for a roil,
Though rallaich were the sea,
Though scorlins warpled my thowl pins,
My shallop wad reach thee.


Thour't not a hochlan scleurach, dear,
As many trooshlach be;
Nor I a claty skybal thus
To sclaffer efter thee;
Yet haing the meishach, whare first
I felt love's mainglin' smart,
And haing the boosach dyvour too,
Who spong'd from me thine heart.


O! rhane a Yolus Cronie - quick -
Across this rumpled brain!
Bring hickery-pickery - bring wallink,
Droshachs, to soothe my pain!
Fire water - fill a spoucher full -
These fryan stouns to stay!
For like a sporrow's scaldachan
I'm gosping night and day.


Were I the Laird o' Achnaglach,
Or Kilmashenachan fair,
Crockstaplemore, Kilwheepnach,
Feochaig or Ballochgair,
Did I inherit Tuyinreoch,
Drumgarve, or Ballochantee,
Creishlach, or Coeran - daing the bit
I'd fauchat them a' for thee!


O, the Clabbydhu, it loves the Trinch,
The Cruban the quay-neb,
While the Anachan and Brollachan,
They love the mussell-ebb.
The Muirachban the Dorling loves,
And the Gleshan, and Guildee,
They love to plouder through the Loch,
But Flory, I love thee!

For goodness sake Annie, you're needing to go and see old Snoddy about this am, am am, ach what ever you call it. Flory has already been quoted towards immortality on here!