I dinna ken…

          I dinna ken 

if Scavie’s livin yet, nor Dites Antonio,

nor Charlie Shrites.

          If I min’ on Willem-Jeems
at his mither’s mither’s gowden weddin…

          …I dinna min’
if she wis Bella-Janet nor Muggie-Ann…

          …an if there’s ony Weelies
left ahin haun, I dinna ken far they micht be noo.

Hale generations, had rummelt up
fitiver steeple wad tak their sowels
an fitivver kirkyerd, their beens;
an efter them, Rudkin the soutar,
sweetie-shop Jeannie, ae-leggit Barcla,
Bill Third fae the Rocksley Bar…

          Aye, an Auld Jim Pith
that took Sundae skweel wis lang deid
afore I won awa…

          …an Jean Blow,
mither tae Dodd, faa warked at the Copie
fan I wis but a bairn.

Auld folk, worn awa, an me a loon,
amon Slessors, Cheynes an Stephens,
forbye aa the Mackies, Farquhars an Keiths,
an as mony ithers, Buchans, Cordiners, Ewens,
aa wi bynames, the like o Dooie Cook, Jappy,
Mulks Dozer, Nae-Robust…

          Theday, I dinna even ken
o them I wis ages wi - fit mair o Sandy Boko,
fit o Skatey, fit o Snakey?

I dinna ken far Zulu went,
nor Andy Keeks, the stickman’s loon,
nor foo fare’t Sandy Biscuits efter aa ‘is time;
nivver min’ Eveline Doldie, Jandies Anna
or Aggie wi the straicht leg –
aa geen tae shunners as like…

          Days ower far ahin an ower easy forgot,
fowk awa up their ain dreels, sawin an plooin,
till the day o their ain hairstin.

          But, for aa that,
cauldrife winter gies wye till hirsl’t spring
an the breitherins aye come late.

© BH, 2021

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A year ago I worked on WRG39, a poem in memory of the past, memory of a friend’s first car. Part of the remaining fragments were words for the folk I grew up among - nicknames, characters - and I realised how little I know of their particular fates after so long. I tidied the fragments into this,