Brought back memories
Posted: Fri Sep 30, 2011 8:01 pm
"Auld Glesga"
Where is the cludgie, that cosy wee cell ,
The string frae the cistern, I remember it well ,
Where I sat wi’ a candle and studied the mags ,
A win fur the ‘Gers , a defeat fur the Jags .
Where is the tramcar that once did a ton
Doon the Great Western Rd on the auld Yoker run ...
The conductress aye knew how to deal wi’ the nyaff ,
“If yer gaun, weal get oan, if yer no’, jist get aff “.
I think o’ the days o’ my tenement hame ,
We’ve got fancy hooses noo , but they’re no’ the same ..
I’ll swap your gisunders , flyovers and jams ,
For a tanner return on the old Partick trams ..
Gone is the Glasgow that I used to know ,
Big Wullie , wee Shooie , the steamie , the Co.,
The stupid wee bauchle , the glaikit big deep ,
The baw’s up the slates , an’ yer gas at a peep .
Where is the Glasgow where I used to stay ,
With white Wally closes done up with white clay ,
Where ye knew every neighbour from first floor to third
And to keep your door shut was considered absurd .
Where are the weans that once played in the street ,
Wi’ a jorrie , a peerie , a gird wi’ a cleek ..
Can they still cadge a hurl, or drap aff a dyke ,
Play hunch-cuddy-hunch. Kick-the-can an’ the like ....
Where is the wee shop where a’ used tae buy
A quarter o’ tatties, a tuppenny pie ,
A bag o’ broke biscuits , a wee sodie scone ,
And the wummin aye asked “How’s yer maw gettin’ on ?”
Where’s the tally’s that I knew so well ,
The wee corner shoppie where they used to sell
Hot pies, a McCallum, an' chips in a poke ,
Ye Kent they were tally’s the minute they spoke .
On a cauld winter’s night when we sat roon the fire ,
Each telt a story , not one was a liar ....
Then in the morning, no lang efter dawn .
Ye got handed a parcel and sent tae the pawn ..
Those days were so rosy, but money was tight ,
The wages hauf feenished by Seterday night .
But still we came through it and weathered the ruts ,
The reason is simple – our parents had guts ...
Does it make you proud.
Where is the cludgie, that cosy wee cell ,
The string frae the cistern, I remember it well ,
Where I sat wi’ a candle and studied the mags ,
A win fur the ‘Gers , a defeat fur the Jags .
Where is the tramcar that once did a ton
Doon the Great Western Rd on the auld Yoker run ...
The conductress aye knew how to deal wi’ the nyaff ,
“If yer gaun, weal get oan, if yer no’, jist get aff “.
I think o’ the days o’ my tenement hame ,
We’ve got fancy hooses noo , but they’re no’ the same ..
I’ll swap your gisunders , flyovers and jams ,
For a tanner return on the old Partick trams ..
Gone is the Glasgow that I used to know ,
Big Wullie , wee Shooie , the steamie , the Co.,
The stupid wee bauchle , the glaikit big deep ,
The baw’s up the slates , an’ yer gas at a peep .
Where is the Glasgow where I used to stay ,
With white Wally closes done up with white clay ,
Where ye knew every neighbour from first floor to third
And to keep your door shut was considered absurd .
Where are the weans that once played in the street ,
Wi’ a jorrie , a peerie , a gird wi’ a cleek ..
Can they still cadge a hurl, or drap aff a dyke ,
Play hunch-cuddy-hunch. Kick-the-can an’ the like ....
Where is the wee shop where a’ used tae buy
A quarter o’ tatties, a tuppenny pie ,
A bag o’ broke biscuits , a wee sodie scone ,
And the wummin aye asked “How’s yer maw gettin’ on ?”
Where’s the tally’s that I knew so well ,
The wee corner shoppie where they used to sell
Hot pies, a McCallum, an' chips in a poke ,
Ye Kent they were tally’s the minute they spoke .
On a cauld winter’s night when we sat roon the fire ,
Each telt a story , not one was a liar ....
Then in the morning, no lang efter dawn .
Ye got handed a parcel and sent tae the pawn ..
Those days were so rosy, but money was tight ,
The wages hauf feenished by Seterday night .
But still we came through it and weathered the ruts ,
The reason is simple – our parents had guts ...
Does it make you proud.