Stevenston
Nostalgia
This
is the page to express our old memories of Stevenston - if you have any you would
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STINSTON
Is there anybody in the night
Remembers your days o fame
Twa fitba teams tae play the game
And awe the work that you could name
In Ardeer Factory
Did ye ever go courting doon the Rec
And dance till you were oot o peck
Or heard the songs in Douglas Bar
That'll show how old ye are
If you remember
There's many a tale o this wee place
A've even heard o its disgrace
When missionerys came tae
Bring them grace
They ate them
They tell of Lesley and she was bonnie
Then there was the ship Trelawney
And the Greyhound track
And lots more places
If you look today you'll find no traces
Cause they're all gone
Now Stinstons glories are in the past
Cause Wonderloaf it did nae last
And ICI is no sae vast
As you all know
Now today there stands a school
And we even have a swimming pool
Where once the bonnie blue bells grew
Among the woods that we once knew
In Auchenharvie
But everyone has a favourite story
Am sure you'll remember the days o glory
The miners row and Bum Bee Pits
And many went tae Reids for chips
In days gone by
Now I'll finish thank God ye say
But I hope somewhere along the way
I've stirred yer memories of long past days
In your wee toon
by Anon.(MT)
A
Madman’s Dream
By Ian Campbell
I’ll tell you, your hearts
to gladden
Of a madman’s flight from
Berchtesgaden;
When Adolph Hitler’s plane
came soaring,
Across the hills and down
the breeze
And o’er the highways of
the seas
To fill our Scottish
hearts with fear
By dropping bombs around
Ardeer.
The night was soft with
passing showers
And the lovely scent of
the Gaillard Towers.
The moon shone down with
ghostly hue
That lit up the roof of
the Tentelew
And the big steam hammer
went clop, clop, clop
As it thumped away in the
blacksmith’s shop.
The plane came roaring
through a fog
That blotted out the “Mirk
and Bog”
And Adolph shouted “Herman
dear
Be ready now, we’re nearly
here
When I shout “Right” just
pull the trigger
We might have luck and hit
a rigger.
The plane came roaring
down with zest,
The medals clinked on
Goering’s chest
The Blacksmith’s shop was
just below
When Hitler shouted out
“Let go!”
Bot Goering only cursed
and damned
And said “Der blasted
trigger’s jammed,”
The Adolph Hitler lost his
head
He shut the roaring engine
dead
The plane went whirling
round and round
And took a nose dive for
the ground
And rested with almighty
flop
At the open door of the
Blacksmith’s shop.
Ah! Sad it’s now my tale
to tell
How every man rushed out
pell-mell
Every hammersman and
turner
And “Shadow” with his
flaming burner
They all came out to share
the fun
Jock McArthur and Angus
Gunn
Every man with shout of
mirth
From apprentices to Tammy
Worth.
They dragged them Jerries
in the shop
And ragged them till they
shouted “Stop”,
If this be Hell, then pray
be civil
And introduce us to the
Devil.”
The Blacksmiths said “We
grant your grace”
So Paddy Kelly blacked his
face
And danced round with two
burners roaring
Scalding “Hit” and Herman
Goering,
And shouted “Hitler” mark
me well,
For I’m the “Devil in this
Hell”,
But this they didn’t hear
him say
For both had fainted clean
away.
When “Hitler wakened from
his dream
The Germans say he gave a
scream
And summoned all the Nazi
nobles
Even Lord Haw Haw and Dr.
Goebbles.
He said “Mine friends,
Deres noting surer
If you love me, your nobel
Fuhrer
Mine aeroplanes you must
keep clear
From dat vild place dey
call “Ardeer”,
Not yet one single bomb
let drop
One hundred miles from der
Blacksmith’s Schop,
For in my dreams I saw der
flames
Der Devil calling out our
names
And felt der auful
brimstone schell
That makes me sure der
place is “Hell”
So do not bomb it from
O’er head
I may be sent there when
I’m dead.
Blin
Jock the Barber
Auld Stinson toon in days o yore was blessed wi characters by the
score.
an mony a wan his life had spent wi jist a nickname that maist folk kent.
Even men in business, profession, trade, bore pseudonyms that wid neverfade.
This rymin tale tells a aboot yin, Wha forever bore the nickname "blin."
There were in the toon five barber shops, frae the cross tae whaur the the shore
road stops. But the wan best kent by stinson folk, was a wee shop ayeways cau'd
"Blin Jocks". A striped pole on the ootside wa, proclaimed it's trade tae yin an
"A". While bold black pent abin the door, spelled "John Anderson" proprietor.
Inside nae fancy decor,just a swivil chair, the kind thats bolted tae the flair.
wi pedals on the left an right, tae change the angle or the hight,
roon the wa a bench type sait, whaur customers their turn could wait.
cushions, upholstery, no a sign, the bench taps were a rough hewn pine.
An if yi wriggled aboot a bit, yi whiles got splinters whaur yi sit.
Broon lino covered a widden flair, wi worn patches here an there.
On the wa, the chair wis facin, a mirror hung abin a wash hand basin.
An shelves o gless baith lang and wide, held jaurs an packets on either side.
A Notice hung beside the door, sixpence a haircut a shave for four.
Hauf price for pensioners, please don't spit, boys haircut a silver thripennybit.
Noo when Jock wis a young man in his prime, had been in business a wee short
time, On a friday in the month o june, A travelin show came tae the toon. Huge
banners wavin in the air, A circus, Wild west show an fair, Wi cowboys, indians,
horses, donkeys, Elephants, Tigers, Lions an monkeys came thro the cross, As the
'brass baun played, leading clowns an animals in a big parade.
Takin their time from the big drums beat, went prancin,dancin doon the street.
Like a procession goin tae Noah's Ark, they made their way tae Warner park.
The next day at the stroke o three, the circus show held a matinee. An 'bairns
wi faces a'aglow, brocht their parents tae see the show. A'hint the big tent,
whaur the grun wis bare, were the animal cages in a square, an bonzo the chimp,
a fly wee ape, had seen his cage door was agape. Wi a grin showin teeth like a
tiger shark, swung frae the cage an oot the park.
He skipt alang thro the cuckoo brig, an up shore road at a fair auld jig. Past
the caley station as a train puffed thru, bye the coalyaird owned by Auld Tam
Frew. Slipped thru the bottom entry gate, intae
the grun o the Warner Estate.
Alang the fence an ower the wa, thru back gairdens o the miners raw.
An entered new street via the close, O the hoose next door tae the thistle an
rose, coverin the grun at a steady lope, He nipped thru the door o the barbers
shope.
Jock's shop had been quate for an hour or so, as maist folk had gone tae see the
show, So wi time tae spare, Jock had his tea, then thocht a great idea wid be,
tae trim his sideburns an moustache ,an gie his face a wee bit wash, But by
mischance, quite unforseen, he'd rubbed Carbolic Soap in baith his een.
He wis tryin wae a towel tae ease the sting. When the bell abin the door went
'ping' He turned tae the doorway,an saw the ape, As a fuzzy, shadowy, upright
shape, Vaguely familiar aboot four feet high, Tae his pain wracked een,it wis a
boy.
"shut the door"an don't staun there, come in an get up on the chair
The chimp obliged,He wis trained indeed, Wi the hair cloth on, Jock felt
it's heid, His tear filled een,rid rimmed an sair ,thocht by touch he'd
Cut the monkeys hair.
"My God"He said it's twa three years, since this heid's felt barbers
sheirs. For the clipping's i"ll need a sack, Yer hairs richt doon yer neck
an back. Tae recompense me for ma trouble, I dout I'll hae tae charge yi
double.
Jock clipped awa,tho nearly "Blin" when twa men frae the circus came in "Come on
then Bonzo"you've had yer fun, Back to the cage, Yer stravagins done. The chimp
sprang up, an oot the chair, an scampered tae them across the flair, They were
but hauf-wey oot the door, When Jock let oot an awfie roar,"hey afore yi gang
awa wi him, He owes me thrippens fur the trim!
Noo the story o Jock an the chimpanzee, fur a hunner years will never dee,
An that's why a 'the
Stinson folk, ca 'their favourite barber "AULD BLIN JOCK.
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