Two poems on Auld Addiewell
Verses addressed to Addiewell soldiers serving in the war; and memories in verse of the old days, with touching memories of stovies, skipping - old familiar faces and places.
Fond memories of Addiewell remembered in verse
The two poems were contributed by Francis O’Hagen, and printed in the Loganlea Miners Welfare Club newsletter, 40th anniversary issue, November 1998.
The first poem seems to have been written during the war and is addressed to Addiewell soldiers serving abroad.
Brother, I have read your song
That from your heart the story tells
Of weary days in other climes
So far away from Addiewell.
The hyacinth still decks the dale,
The rivulet winds through the dell;
But oh, our hears are sad and wae;
We miss you here in Addiewell.
When war’s alarms fade away
And peace reigns in the heart of men,
We’ll proudly welcome you again
To childhood’s scenes in Scolly Glen.
And as we go through lovers’ lane
That many a story old could tell
The memories of your grief and pain
Will soothe away in Addiewell.
Still Auchenhard is green and gay
With nature’s art, each bird and spring;
And through its woods and o’er its braes
The mavis joyful song doth sing.
The woodland chorus – same sweet lay –
On which your thoughts so fondly dwell,
Shall sweeter still be heard again
When you return to Addiewell.
The churchyard’s consecrated ground
Will keep secure its silent dead;
And day and night our prayers we send
To every dying soldier’s bed.
To all who plough the stormy main
Or search the sky through shot and shell,
Our daily thoughts, our daily prayers,
Go ever out from Addiewell.
Brother, I know not your name
And yet I know you strong and true;
I know a mother’s hopes and thoughts
Through every land will go with you.
I know that you are one of us,
Who went to face what none could tell;
May God direct and guide your way,
And bring you safe to Addiewell.
This second poem may be by Lewis Clarkson. It too was printed in the 40th anniversary newsletter of the Loganlea Miners Welfare Club in November 1998.
In this world I’ve travelled far
On land and ocean’s swell,
But aye my favourite memories
Are of Auld Addiewell.
I see the moon as it looked doon
Tae stroke a rooftop grey.
I see a door and much more
Where started life’s long way.
Clay pipe I see between those lips
Of a father mendin’ boots;
A mother busy makin’ jam,
And dumplins in their cloots.
Tatties wi’ their jackets oan,
Stovies and Scotch broth;
Porridge bubblin oan the hoad,
Hot scones wrapped up in cloth.
The girdle and the chumper
Now relics of the past;
A friendly fire, and oil lamp,
The shadows that they cast.
Faces pass before my eyes,
Those once familiar features:
The Fannons, Walkers and the Steels,
The ministers and teachers.
The Polis in his polis hoose,
Currans’ bread and buns;
Kate Miller in her sweetie shoap,
The farmer and his sons.
Laddies wi’ their girds and cleiks,
Babes wrapped tight in shawl;
Lassies wi’ their skippin ropes,
Fondly I recall.
I still can hear the church bell ring,
See people in the pews;
Smell wild roses oan the bing,
Almost touch them if I choose.
I see the pond and beyond
To where the road end lies;
The school and the store and what’s more,
The bairns and their cries.
I see the dykes, the Scoley Burn,
With very little bother;
The high road and the low road
That took us intae Cauther.
I see the farm and the barn
And haystacks in the sun;
See the miners make their weary way
Tae hames when day is done.
I see it all quite clearly
And it gives me satisfaction
Tae write about Auld Addiewell -
And the thoughts of Lewis Clarkson.