Today I would like to introduce the work of Annabelle Susan Harper. ASH spent her childhood growing up in the village of Girdle Toll, just outside the town of Irvine in Ayrshire, Scotland. These formative years gave her a myriad of experiences to base her first chapbook of rhymes (It’s Better than a Slater up your nose). These rhymes are set in the 1950s and 60s in an era that seems so different from modern times. ASH put pen to paper in an effort to record her youth growing up in a working-class family in mid-20th-century Scotland.
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The Strap
Jimmy Stirret was a brute of a man. He had been a drill sergeant in the first war (WW1), never having seen combat. His job was to train raw recruits to become soldiers who would obey orders without question. Jimmy had broken many a man even before they had seen action on the front line. Being a bully, he excelled in his task, he knew exactly how to strip a man’s soul and make him compliant. When the war finished, he was fast tracked as a school headmaster. Jimmy continued with his bullying ways with his pupils as he had done with his recruits. He saw the boys in the class as no more than cannon fodder for the next war that he felt was sure to come along. This man knew exactly what he was doing and was allowed by the authorities to do it.
(From Big Jimmy Stirret the brutish headmaster)
Our Ian got the strap today, the second time this week. My mother says his sorrows he doesn’t have to seek.
Big Jimmy called him out in class in front of all the kids. He stood up with a wonder, for who knows what he did.
They went outside so he could hide the pleasure on his face. For Jimmy Stirrett the headmaster was a scholarly disgrace.
Right boy, hold your hands out and take it like a man. Then Jimmy swung the leather as hard as any can.
Our Ian cried and Jimmy sighed another broken toy. Someday he’d break a stronger lad and that would give him joy.
And when he sent him back to class, he clipped him in the ear. For that was Jimmy Stirret, he loved instilling fear.
Schooling was supposed to be a happy time of bliss. So how was Jimmy Stirret allowed to act like this.
(Jimmy’s obituary written by his nephew read: loving husband, soldier and educator, his pupils were his children. Firm but fair.)
(I can tell you different: I was there.)
The Wedding Scramble.
In the West of Scotland, it was a tradition that the father of the bride scattered handfuls of coins to the gathering of children, who came to see her off to church on her wedding day. This was thought to bring her good financial luck during her marriage.
Jeanie Waters weds today, she’ll make a lovely bride and all the women gather, to see her come outside.
There they wait, to see her off on this her special day, confetti they will scatter, and she’ll be on her way.
Her car arrives at 2 o’clock, the driver gives a toot, then goes inside to get the bride, Jeanie’s coming out.
She walks out on her father’s arm, her mother by her side and all the women Oo and Ah, she’s such a lovely bride.
Now all the kids have gathered, they must be getting soft, here to cheer our Jeanie, as her car is setting off.
No!! there’s going to be a Scramble, a scattering of cash and when the money gets thrown out, they’ll hope that they’re not last.
Her father rolls the window down and coins fly in the air, the kids all give a howler and there’s pennies everywhere.
And when the car it drives away it leaves behind a scrum, arms and legs are everywhere and fingers getting numb.
The big kids get the money, the wee yins not so much, good luck to Jeanie Waters as she’s heading for the church.
The Four Minute Warning
In the late fifties and early sixties, the threat of nuclear war was in the back of our thoughts. It was a fact of life. Sometimes the subject would be brought up but most of the time it was in the background. This was the time of Reds Under the Bed. The air-raid siren on top of the George picture House in Irvine being tested every Saturday morning at 11 o’clock, was a constant reminder of our impending doom. My aunt who was a member of the civil defence said that the best thing that we could do in the event of a nuclear attack, was hide in the bath. It always made me laugh, as there was eight of us in the household.
The four-minute warning, could we hear it today. Will I run to my mother or just go and play?
I asked my father what do you think? In these troubled times with the world on the brink?
It’ll be over quick; we’ll be gone in a flash. If the world is destroyed by a nuclear blast.
But don’t worry son It won’t be today. We’ll muddle through in the usual way.
My thoughts turned to football or playing with toys. For I could do nothing, I was only a boy.
I wandered off with my fears in the past. When you are ten, your worries fade fast.
The Blether
(We all know someone like Billy)
Billy he’s a talker, a blether of a man, you never get a word in and not a mortal can.
He doesn’t let you win a round; he’s done it all before, if you have won a battle, Billy’s won the war.
His words are strong and confident, he doesn’t have a doubt, and even if you butted in, the words keep coming out.
It isn’t that he doesn’t know a multitude of things, it’s just he keeps on talking and how your ears they ring.
So if you meet our Billy, he’ll tell you this and that, for there’s nothing he likes better than a good one-sided chat.
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