poems and prose - remembering
When I SpeakI come from Donegal
From the west of Ireland
Where the land
Runs along the sea.
I’d love to have stayed all my days.
But when I was growing up
There was nothing in it.
Nothing for us
No work
No money
We had to go.
I’m here a long time now
But you never lose it in your voice
The place where you come from.
Margaret Rae
Loving
Dancing is beautiful.
Loving is even better.
My husband was a tall fellow.
He was a quiet man.
He loved me and I loved him.
He took my hand and I took his.
I wouldnae ever want to lose
My wedding ring.
Joan Harris
Our Street
I come from the Buggie Loan. That was our street, a tenement full of characters. To give it its posh name: Eastvale Place, Glasgow G3. Yorkhill Quay was at the bottom of our street.
It was a four storey building with four doors on each landing. We were one up. The factor used to come, Miss Mackenzie. She owned the building and she came to collect the rent. She came to the wee shop and she stood there. We used to go and say: Will I go your messages? She’d give us a penny and we’d go round all the doors for her. We’d come back and say: “Mrs McGregor says she’s not in.” She knew that meant: you’re getting no money this week.
I don’t know what she lived on. She was a lovely lady. Too nice to be attached to that building. I think some of her family must have owned the building and left it to her. She must have got some money from somebody, as she kept coming. Or maybe she lived in hope.
The old places were full of history. The Buggie Loan was demolished. All the characters have gone. There’s nothing there now. Not a thing. I know that. But I can sit here and see the factor going away down the street. I can imagine her saying to herself: “I nearly got some money today.”
Bill Milne