Generations of Barons

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I remember childhood days.
I close my eyes and see.
The Kittle School. Miss Smith.
Miss Donaldson and her "Rowan Tree".

We played upon the pottery shore.
We straiked the Kittle raws.
There was Front Street. Back Street. Middle Street. Bath Street
And Summerlee and a'.

Yon room and kitchen, aye sae neat.
The fender round the fire
Where we'd listen tae my mither's sangs
Of which we'd never tire.

My faither coming frae the pit.
He always looked so black
His face the colour of the coal
That he went down tae hack.

Our neighbour through the wa' was Jean.
She'd fourteen bairns fast.
Nurse Bird and Doctor Willie were always there
And each one was to be the last.

Big Aggie up the stair would stand.
Upon her lips an oath.
God help "Wee Wull" when he came hame
If he'd been in the "Goth".

I still remember the Gala days
That were held in the Kittle Park
When we marched wi' oor tinnies tied roond oor necks
And stayed there till nearly dark.

We got a wee bottle o' milk and a pie.
A bag with a cake or a bun
And we ran in a' the races
For the prizes tae be won.

They always had the women's race
Big Aggie wis aye the best.
The men raced next and God help wee Wull
If he didnae beat the rest!

The neighbours then were friends indeed.
They shared their troubles too.
They'd never see a friend in need
And their own belongings so few.

Those days, they seem so long ago
In that home where memories start.
Although my father was its head
Then my mother was surely its heart.

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