Dec 172013
 

nelson-mandela-longBy Bob Smith.

Madiba he’s bin laid tae rest
His lang journey it is deen
Beeriet in his hame village
Es Freeman o Aiberdeen

His story is worth tellin
Bit a widna even try
It needs a bodie far mair versed
In Sooth Africa’s freedom cry

Ess “Tata” o Sooth Africa
As Madiba he wis weel kint
Fer fechtin agin apartheid
Tae prison wis eence sint

Tata Madiba yer noo free
Amang angels ye can rest
Kennin fine fin on ess earth
Ye did mair than try yer best.

Nelson Mandela fareweel tae thee
Nae mony can tak yer place
A mannie fa focht fer justice
A credit tae the human race.

©Bob Smith”The Poetry Mannie” 2013
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Dec 132013
 

By Bob Smith.

Winter in Northumberland2, England - Credit Ian Britton www.freefoto.com 90_07_6_prev

Foo muckle siller wull ye spend
On pressies fer yer freens ?
Or some fer aa the faimily
Be they auld or in their teens
.
A new name fer Christmas
“The Retail Festival” it is ca’ed
Fin thingies they git oot o han
An aa bugger gyaangs fair mad
.
Noo a’m nae Scrooge –far fae it
Bit a wid fair draw the line
At gittin awa intae debt
Afore singin “Auld Lang Syne”.
.
A’m aa fer gien a wee present
Tae faimily or fowk lang kent
Some fowk tho’ dinna hae a clue
Aboot foo muckle they hiv spent
A freen o mine he’s renegin
He says he’s seen the licht
An disna gie twa hoots
If fowk noo think him ticht
.
He’s nae gien ony mair
Presents he classes “stuff”
He’ll buy a wee bottle o booze
Or maybe a sma plum duff
.
He says it’s far mair practical
As he kens jist fa likes fit
Instead o maybe hannin ower
Fit fowk micht class as shit
.
Only costs him haaf the price
O things he wid normally gie
An he winna hae tae worry
Fae debt he wull bide free

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013
Image credit: Ian Britton – http://s3.freefoto.com/images/
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Dec 062013
 

By Bob Smith.
Candles lopro - Credit Ian Britton - freefoto

Black Friday noo it wis nae fun
A puir wifie trumpled on the grun
Fowk ower TV sets war scrappin
Cos in shops the price wis drappin
.
Black an blue they jostl’t an bumped
Some fowk feart they micht git thumped
Aa ower prices bein slashed richt doon
Mayhem an madness wis aa aroon
.
Black Friday hordes formed a scrum
As common sinse wint up the lum
“Tak yer thievin hans aff aat TV set
Or a bunch o fives ye’ll bliddy get”
.
The Black Friday idea it did start
Ower in America wi yon Walmart
Halloween sees pumpkins instead o neeps
Anither American custom ower here creeps
.
Civilisation a mannie eence said
Wis barbarism wi a veneer owerspread
Unnerneath micht be the savage beast
Unleashed tae gorge on Mammon’s feast
We’ve noo cam tae “The Retail Season”
Far fowk it seems can lose aa reason
Spennin siller they simply hinna got
An ither eens fair lose the plot
.
The festive season a like itsel
Bit nae the bliddy shoppin hell
On Christmas Day a’ll raise a cheer
“Retail Season’s” ower fer anither eer
.
A “Black Friday” cam tae Glaisga toon
Fin a helicopter cam richt doon
Throwe a pub roof near the Clyde
Fin fowk war haen a drink inside
.
So spare a thocht fer Glaisga noo
An fer the helicopter crew
Fer TV sets they’ll hae nae need
As “Black Friday” saw the puir souls deid
.
Agin ess sad an tragic tale
Materialism an sic like maan pale
Next time yer spennin yer bawbees
Myn life it disna growe on trees

© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013
Image credit: Ian Britton – http://s3.freefoto.com/images/

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Nov 282013
 

© Abdone | Dreamstime Stock PhotosBy Bob Smith.

Laachter it fair dis ye gweed
Mair laachter is fit fowk need
Ti see us throwe life’s wee trachles
An aa ither kines o debachles

Laach fin ye miss a putt
An yer gowf game’s in a rut
Laach fin yer team gits beat
Bang goes anither clean sheet

Aye hae a laach wi yer freens
Be they auld or in their teens
Laachter brichens up the day
If anither bill ye hiv ti pey

Laachter’s better than a froon
Fin life stairts ti git ye doon
Laachter lowssens up yer jowls
Laachter dis awa wi scowls

Laachter ‘tis said cures some ills
Instead o aye jist poppin pills
Bit fin yer laachin an aa smiles
Dis aat mean it cures yer piles?

Some thingies tho micht hae ye beat
Yer nae sure if ti laach or greet
Jist myn greetin brings on tears
Laachter maybe brings on cheers

So grumpy bugger or cheery face
Fit een o twa wull ye embrace
Jist myn grumpy or cheery kine
Oot yer hairt the sun shud shine

© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013
Image Credits:
Businesswoman © Abdone | Dreamstime Stock Photos 
Happy Girl 6  © Phil Date | Dreamstime Stock Photos

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Nov 212013
 

turra Coo duncan harley2One hundred years on, Duncan Harley examines the story of the Fite Coo.

Almost a hundred years ago Lloyd George’s National Insurance Act came into force. The legislation was intended to improve the lot of farm labourers, fisher folk and factory workers who were often employed for a contractual period of six months or less.

The Act of Parliament (The National Insurance Act 1913) provided for medical and unemployment benefits for workers and their families who were in need of state support through either ill health or lack of employment.

The tax received a mixed reception. Suspicion and prejudice against government interference fuelled discontent in many minds and the bare fact that both workers and employers were required to contribute hard cash caused many to consider direct action.

The Scottish Farm Servants’ Union welcomed the measure since it offered some improvement for those workers who simply became worn out and too ill to continue working and who would otherwise have to rely on the mercy and support of former employers.

Many Scottish farmers, however, remained unconvinced of the merits of state support for those in need.

Protest movements arose in various parts of Scotland and in a somewhat strange alliance for the times, the Liberal government of the time found itself in sympathy with the Marxists over the issue of both land reform and workers social security.

The farmers around the Aberdeenshire market town of Turriff in Aberdeenshire were particularly incensed, partly because of the now increased costs of employing farm labourers and also because many genuinely felt that they already took good care of the workforce upon which they relied.

There were riots, demonstrations and protests.

In the end a farmer by the name Robert Paterson of Lendrum near Turriff became the focus of Sheriff’s Officers when he refused to pay what he called the “unfair and unjust tax”. He had previously been convicted and fined in court for 20 such offences against the 1911 National Insurance Act and had paid the accumulated £15 fine, however he refused to pay the arrears of National Insurance.

the authorities reacted by seizing one of his milk cows

A Unionist by nature, he publicly stated that “because it was a service that farmers and farm labourer would rarely use” he would not pay the tax imposed by a Welsh led government. Lendrum to Leeks became the campaign slogan.

Paterson quickly became a cause célèbre in the North East and indeed beyond. Following court action for the unpaid debt to the National Insurance Fund, the authorities reacted by seizing one of his milk cows, intending to auction it to re-coup the debt he owed to the government for unpaid National Insurance Contributions.

Things got from bad to worse. There were further riots and much civil disobedience. The seized cow then became the cause célèbre and the press had a field day.

The immediate events following the seizing of the Turra Coo by Sherriff Officers are well known.

No local auctioneer could be found to sell the beast and the “Fite Coo”, now emblazoned with the painted slogan “Breath Bad – Gummy Leeks” as a reference to the Welsh born Lloyd George, seemingly ran off home to Lendrum where after a few days it was again seized by the authorities and taken by train to Aberdeen’s Denburn Auction Market where it was sold for seven pounds on 16th December 1913 to a Mr Alex Craig.

Mr Craig then sold the animal on to a Mr Davidson for £14 thus making a tidy profit on the deal.

turra Coo duncan harley4

Mr Davidson then transported the now famous cow back to Turriff where crowds of townsfolk and farm workers gathered to witness the event. The local pipe band played “See the Conquering Hero Comes” and the poor cow sported more painted slogans on her sides including “Free! Divn’t ye wish ye were me.”

The war to end all wars was looming. Indeed many of the participants in this sometimes hilarious series of events would soon be dead. Sacrificed on the battlefronts of the 1914-18 war.

The cow however survived and was returned to Lendrum Farm, where it died of bovine tuberculosis in 1920.

Depending on which account is read, it was either stuffed and displayed at Lendrum Farm for a while before being sent by train to Aberdeen’s Marischal College for display or simply buried in a field at Lendrum to remain undisturbed for many years until excavations for a new water supply uncovered her bones.

The myth of the Turra Coo perpetuates to this day however.

The West Aberdeenshire MP of the time, Mr J.M. Henderson MP, had a take on it. He toured the North East in the January of 1914 speaking to meetings of constituents who were mainly opposed to the idea of state care for the elderly and infirm.

At a meeting in Culsalmond he was heckled after saying that  farmers did not seem to grasp the idea that the Insurance Act was designed to provide for those workers who having attained the age of 50 and upwards who were unable to work due to illness or disability.

“Insurance follows the servant” said Henderson and he told the heckling audiences that although he knew that a good many masters were good to there servants the facts showed that farm workers rarely stayed in one position for long. The Insurance Act was he said, designed to combat this problem by providing a fundamental right to healthcare and assistance in times of financial hardship.

Not only Culsamond but Tarland, Turriff and indeed seemingly the entire Garioch seemed to agree that the Act of Parliament was both unfair and unnecessary.

Effigies of Lloyd George and the local MP WH Cowan were publicly burned in Inverurie town square.

a crowd of around 1500 packed Turriff’s main square

It does seem ironic nowadays that in many cases those workers whose interests the National Insurance Act was designed to protect were often the most vehement in their opposition.

Cynics of the time suggested that the workforce was being manipulated by the land owners and bullied or perhaps being encouraged into opposition. For example a crowd of around 1500 packed Turriff’s main square on the day of the proposed sale of Mr Paterson’s cow to meet the Insurance arrears due by him.

Many were local farmers and many more were farm workers who had been given a half day holiday at a time when the Scottish Farm Servants’ Union had been unsuccessfully campaigning for regular holidays for farm workers.

The more sympathetic amongst us would perhaps understand that the spectre of state interference in rural affairs loomed large in the minds of both employers and employees.

In a court judgement of the time, Sheriff Stewart of Banff convicted and fined two farmers from Gamrie and Fordyce following representations by the defendant’s legal representatives that they had been “misguided” and “stupid” in failing to pay to stamp the National Insurance cards of their employees.

In his summing up, the good Sheriff said that if there were further examples of resistance to the act of parliament then he would seriously consider whether the penalty should not be materially increased.

Strong sentiments indeed.

The Poetry Mannie – Bob Smith has a take on it.

BRAW IMAGE O “THE COO”

A bronze statue o the Turra Coo
Noo staans proodly in the toon
Ti commemorate a gweed story
A’ve kent since a wis a loon

The fite coo fae Lendrum
Wis the celebrity o it’s day
Fin fairmer Robert Paterson
Thocht NI wisna fair play

Sheriff Geordie Keith set oot
Tae seize property as a fine
Bit the locals widna help him
An refused tae tae the line

The coo wis pit up fer auction
Fegs iss nearly caused a riot
Syne up steps Alexander Craig
As the bodie faa wid buy it

Noo iss is nae the eyn o the story
Fowk  an injustice they hid seen
A fair pucklie did rally roon
Wi fairmer Craig a deal wis deen

The coo wis noo back at Lendrum
Tae see oot the rest o her days
Nae doot neen the wiser o
The stooshie she did raise

At a junction in the bonnie toon
Iss a sculture o the beast
Faa brocht a fair bit o fame
Tae Turra an the haill north-east

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013

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Nov 142013
 

By Bob Smith.

Union Bridge & Terrace 1900 flat

In een o Scotia’s bonniest cities
Live fowk fae fair git on yer titties
Wintin the toon tae chynge it’s wyes
Wi ugly biggins tae be the prize
.
Leuk at oor glorious granite face
Fou o character an fou o grace
Fin the sun shines on the steen
Ye ken yer bidin in Aiberdeen
.
Union Street biggins they jist micht
Be in great need o a gweed dicht
Tae reveal the silvery granite glint
Aat generations o fowk hiv kent
.
Bonnie parks an gairdens are aa aroon
There’s een in the cinter o the toon
Bit a local mannie fa his lots o cash
Wid Union Terrace Gairdens like tae trash
The toon it staans twixt Don an Dee
Twa rivers fa flow tae the sea
Throwe kwintraside they pass first
Syne feed the grey north sea’s thirst
.
A toon full o majestic spires
A city aat his some deniers
An wint the toon mair tae be
Like Houston or New York maybe
.
Bit Aiberdeen needs tae be Aiberdeen
Wi the couthiest fowk ye’ve ivver seen
Faa in their toonie tak great pride
An winna be takken fer a ride
.
So Widdie, Muse an Stewartie Milne
Tho’ fowk micht nae wish ye ill
Jist bugger aff an leave things be
In the bonnie toon twixt Don an Dee

© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013

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Nov 012013
 

By Bob Smith.

what-they-now-do-with-waste-plastic flat

We hiv a problem in Aiberdeen
Keepin the bliddy pavemints clean
Litter strewn fae pillar tae post
Plastic cups an half aeten toast
.
Fag eyns lyin ootside office doors
As weel as aat o shops an stores
Lazy buggers jist fling them doon
Fin binnin them wid be a boon
.
Grub containers aa ower the place
Efter some bodie’s fed their face
If on the hoof ye maan eat
Dinna leave boxies on the street
.
Young mithers strollin doon the wye
They hear their little darlins cry
A sweetie is gien tae the geet
The wrappers drappit at their feet
.
Skweelkids oot fer denner or lunch
Some are a maist untidy bunch
Throwe a bag o crisps they cha’
Syne chukk the bliddy bag awa
.
Pavemints strewn wi chuddy blob
Spat oot o some nyaff’s gob
Stickin tae the slabs an sheen
Aroon oor toon o Aiberdeen
Fowk oot waakin their family pet
Some hinna got the message yet
Seems they think it fair absurd
Tae pick up their doggie’s turd
.
Nae jist in the toon ye’ll see
Fowks trash an cuttins fae a tree
Oot some bonnie kwintra lane
The litter dumpers are a bane
.
Auld cookers, beddin an sic like
Left aa aroon bi some orra tyke
Ower damn’t lazy tae show their face
An tak it tae a recyclin place
.
Ess problem society his richt aneuch
An een aat’s proovin affa teuch
Fowk are feart tae challenge dumpers
Fa micht turn oot tae be face thumpers
.
They say educashun stairts at hame
It’s time tae pit litter in the frame
So’s the neist generation are mair aware
An littered streets they are nae mair.
.
.
.
.
©Bob Smith “The PoetryMannie” 2013
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Oct 282013
 

Trees at Sunset  © Freefoto.comBy Tom Shepherd.

Time makes account of all of us, but does not care to tally
There is no pause for games of man, nor by its nature dally.
It does not love, nor care, nor hate, nor listen to our noise
No ears to hear our cries or tears, no greed to bribe with toys.

With measured tread we live our lives by second, minute, hour
Each sweeping hand a gentle cut, a unique mortal scour.
We cry for more, there’s none to have, but time’s song does not end
Each moment filled with hope, with fear, with enemy, with friend.

What little we can see is shown through unclear, blinkered view
The past is clouded with the murky haar of false or true.
Of things to come no certainty save optimistic cries
Yet time accounts for you and I and ever, ever flies.

Live for each day or plan for futures yet to come about
Be happy as the day is long or paralysed with doubt.
Each moment lived is ever in the here, the now, the new
So to each other now’s the time to say that I love you.

© Tom Shepherd, 23 Oct 2013

Image Credits
Sun Halo ( thumbnail ) © Duncan Harley
Sun through Trees © Freefoto.com

Oct 242013
 

UTG long - Credit: Mike ShepherdBy Bob Smith.

Widdie’s noo back,wi mair bliddy cack
The fifty million is back on the table
Bit only ye see, if wi him ye agree
Aat there’s only ae horse in the stable

John Halliday’s plan, seems nae aneuch gran
The gairdens they still wull be sunken
Is it his fear, aat fowk they drink beer
In the airches wi an attitude drunken?

The plans need transformin, afore the mannie is warmin
Tae ony ideas the chiel wid see fit
If it’s nae tae street livel, t’is the wark o the devil
Onything else Sir Ian sees as shit

The P&J it dis cry, compromise wi shud try
Nae chunce o ess cumin tae pass
Sir Ian his a goal, tae fill in the bowl
An smore the gairdens en masse

Widdie’s “olive brunch”, fin it cums tae the crunch
Is nithing the sort if ye think
An ultimatum mair like, an een wi shud spike
Tho the eyn gemme is noo at its brink

So fa’ll raise the bar, in ess oot an oot war?
Wull fifty million bi seen as a bribe?
An concrete wull flow, on the girss doon alow
On champagne Sir Ian wull imbibe

Can the gairdens survive, fowks hopes kept alive
Or micht it dee in a nest o vipers?
Wull siller win the day, in aa ess affray
Help’t oot bi some ither snipers?

© Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013

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Oct 212013
 

By Bob Smith.
empty-golf-course2

A wis spikkin tae a gowfer
T’wis jist the ither day
Fa wis tellin me a story
Aboot Americans here tae play
.
He wis playin ower at Murcar
An met some Yankee billies
Fa’s opeenion o The Donald
Wid gie Dod Sorial the willies
.
The chiels hid played Royal Dornoch
An ither courses aat war gweed
Afore tryin oot Murcar’s challenge
Far ye hiv tae use the heid
.
Fin ask’t aboot playin Trumpie’s
They fair did hoot an holler
Sayin they hid nae intenshuns
O gien The Donald a dollar
.
Their opeenion o the Trumpie
Wid mak Donald tak the hump
The haill lot they did cry
“Stuff yer Donald Trump”
Noo a’ve heard the same opeenion
Fae Yanks playin “the hame o gowf”
Maist widna be spennin ony siller
At the Menie course an howff
.
It wid appear aat The Donald
Is nae weel thocht o at aa
Fowk in the lan o his birth
Nae langer heed his blaw
.
Noo in the rest o Bonnie Scotland
Seems the mannie’s thocht a joke
Only in the rich Nor-east corner
At Donald– fun ye canna poke
.
The mannie’s “tilt at windmills”
Fin he roars an teers his hair
If they warna near his gowf course
Div ye think the bugger wid care?
.
Awa wi yer “Love o Scatland” min
Some think yer jist a bam
We’ll aye drink a toast tae justice
O coorse wi a Glenfiddich dram

©Bob Smith “The Poetry Mannie” 2013
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