“Rise Jock an’ see wha’s at the door,
That knocks sae lood at sic an ooor!”
The guid wife cried frae her boudoir,
“For I’m a sicht o’sichts;”
Jock open’d up, let oot a roar,
You’re booked for showin’ lichts” !!!
Tak’ warnin’ then you Maybole folk,
The law ye canna here provoke,
Or you may get a nesty shock
Noo Bobby’s in the force;
It seems they wha restrictions mock
Gang frae bad tae worse.
Blackoot offenders seldom think
Hoo serious Bobby treats a chink,
Or wundas whar’on fires blink,
Gin you admit the truth,
The best excuse could no hoodwink
This ambitious sleuth.
This flair he has for lich detectin’
Is easy, so it’s worth respectin;
If harder task he’s still neglectin’
Tae justify a wage;
Someday these tasks he’ll be reflectin’
When he’s mature in age.
The blackoot brings a worse disgrace,
That gi’es Maybole an ugly face,
The wreckin’ an robbin’ ilka place;
Vandal spooks gawn mad.;
It’s time noo Bobby tried tae trace
This demolition squad.
In this as in the first connection,
Police are due us like protection,
We don’t demand - at first- perfection,
But something’ must be done;
Nae Bobby can expect affection
Until it’s truly won.
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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
