TWICE ROUN' THE GLEN
Ae mornin' at the back o' three
this wey ma mither waukened me
"Hae ye forgot ye're on eight ane?
Ye've no much time ye'll need to rin"
An rin a' did richt ower the park,
A thanked ma stars it wasnae dark,
Morrisons helped things nae doot,
Since he has lifted this blackoot.
A reached the depot a' was sweetin,
(Gey sune a' was nearly greetin')
A got ma tin?(m) an gan tae speir.
"Whau's ma driver", was tell't Jock Weir.
"Guid God", quo I, a' wish a'd kent,
A sick report a wad hae sent".
A'd best get ready for the fray
Ah''ll hiv tae wark gey hard the day.
Quoth Jock, the caur's in twenty lie,
Let's get ower an' gie'er a try,
You set the screens a'll try the san'?
See if the brake'll work by han'.
Roaken Glen via Thornliebank,
That's richt, the airs noo in the tank
We're a set let's get on oor way
There's workers waiting at Balgray.
Workers waitin, jings, he was richt,
The sicht o' them gied me a fricht,
If there was ane there was a hunner,
(They say ma broos got black as thunner).
Some gaed nae furrer than Coolairs,
A' was hard ca'd tae get the fares.
The win'd frae Campsie hills blaws snell
But a'm no cauld a'm warm as hell.
Frae Keppochhill down tae the Caley,
Five meenits walk if they would rally.
But they'll no walk they'd stan' an' wait,
Suppose we were a hauf oor late.
There they scramble a thro ither,
A man wad fecht his verra brither.
Ma heid it's spinnin' like a peerie,
The bloomin caur's a tapsalteerie.
A focht ma' way richt doon the Parley,
But me, a didna cry a baurley.
For a' am no the ane tae funk,
A hope a hae some dacent spunk.
A muckle cheil fu' o' ill natur',
Ca'd me ..... this an that bit cratur',
Ma birse got up a' caught his thrapple,
He damned near swallowed Adam's apple.
The caur it emptied at the station,
A thocht ad' had ma mornin' ration,
But when we cam doon tae Arygle,
There they a' stood in single file.
Boot hauf a mile lang, syne, they enter
Makin' for the trainin' centre,
This job is waur nor what it's c'ad,
A wish ad mairred me a lad.
Roun' the Glen we gaed tae Springburn
An there a got anither turn
Jock thocht the trafic's awfy heavy,
A must be followin' McLevy.
Roun' the Glen we gaed again,
By this time a' was near insane
It was nine thirty by the time clock
When we landed roun' at Giffnock.
It's pleasant roun' by Giffnock side,
But Giffnock people's fu' o' pride.
They start their wark at ten o'clock,
An' gie their views boot us puir folk.
They stop again at twelve for lunch,
They mak for liquor in a bunch.
We drive them hame again at five
They feel it's guid tae be alive.
By ye should see them lookin' glum
An' talk aboot a fifth column
If workers they should threaten strike
Tae get conditions they wad like.
(The next few lines are illegible)
An' then the women, ye should see them,
(A' ken what a' wad like tae gie them).
They paint themsel's like ony heathen
The sicht o' them wad stop ye breathin',
They tak the caur intae the toon,
An there a' day they gad aroun',
Keepin' abody in a fermet,
An makin' caur folks life a torment.
At length we cam' tae Castle Street,
Where a' was c'ad richt aff ma feet.
Jock shouted through there's nae relief'.
O' wha's tae blame for this mischief.
Suppose they hing me up for murther
A winna gan a caur stop further.
Wee Jimmy Stirlin' he comes runnin',
Big Jock he jist stans there grinnin'.
Wee Jimmy he's nae hesitation,
He reads me oot a regulation.
By faith but he's no verra blate
He says a maun dae six hoors straight.
Since he has gotten this wee hat,
He jist stan's there, he's growin' fat.
But a tell't him what was the matter,
A' said ad need tae make ma watter.
Puir Jimmy kent that he was beat,
He had nae option but retreat.
A richt, he says, jist rin it in,
But you''ll hear mair aboot this din.
A ten o'clock ye will be handed,
Fur leavin' a' they people stranded.
But damn the haet care I for Stirlin'
A tell ye a' ma heid was birlin.
In time a' got ma ten o'clock,
Was taen afore that Killock Jock.
A' gaed in wi' apprehension,
He gied me four days suspension.
Noo a' ye transport folk tak tent,
If roun' the glen ye should be sent.
An' syne ye fin' there's nae relief.
Jist cairry oan or come tae grief.
Theresa Kelly 1940,s
Theresa,s first days as a conductress