The early morn’ was bricht an’ fair
‘Mid nature’s sweet complexion,
Humanity seem’d never mair
As mutual in affection.
The earth was burstin’ intae bloom,
The burdies intae song;
Dispellin’ a’ man’s self made gloom;
Yae! Rectifyin’ wrong.
Dismayed Phobeen ‘mang winter’s throes,
An’ sair wi’ a’ it’s ills;
Spring had come, auld Phebus rose
Frae ‘mang the Straiton hills.
I plied my usual daily trend
Lik’ nature it is varied;
My body may wae hardship bend,
My soul is seldom wearied.
‘T was on this lovely morn’ in spring
When housewife’s scrub an’ scower,
I ca’d upon a client in fling
Tae sweep a chimney for ‘er.
When mountin’ tae the chimney stack,
I heard a queer commotion;
But nane surprised was I at that,
Gin I heard it often.
‘T was just a feathered freen, I kent
By flappin’ o’ the wings’
Strivin’ hard in it’s ascent
As oot the vent he clim’s.
The jackdaw’ as it proved tae be,
Was no ‘ the least disposed
Tae fraternise the like o’ me,
Tae a nearby roof she closed.
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These poems
were written by my dad about Maybole and some of the characters from the
town. Some poems were written for events and 'smokers' do's. Some serious
some fictional and quite comical. Quite a few about Maybole in war time
and his thoughts about the war. Dad was the last son born 1907 to Emily
and Tom McColm. They lived in Montgomery Street till they moved to
Ladyland Road, across from the school which later
