is the page to express our old memories of Stevenston - if you have any you would
like to share with others then email them to me
Is there anybody in the night
Remembers your days o fame
Twa fitba teams tae play the game
And awe the work that you could name
In Ardeer Factory
Did ye ever go courting doon the Rec
And dance till you were oot o peck
Or heard the songs in Douglas Bar
That'll show how old ye are
If you remember
There's many a tale o this wee place
A've even heard o its disgrace
When missionerys came tae
Bring them grace
They ate them
They tell of Lesley and she was bonnie
Then there was the ship Trelawney
And the Greyhound track
And lots more places
If you look today you'll find no traces
Cause they're all gone
Now Stinstons glories are in the past
Cause Wonderloaf it did nae last
And ICI is no sae vast
As you all know
Now today there stands a school
And we even have a swimming pool
Where once the bonnie blue bells grew
Among the woods that we once knew
But everyone has a favourite story
Am sure you'll remember the days o glory
The miners row and Bum Bee Pits
And many went tae Reids for chips
In days gone by
Now I'll finish thank God ye say
But I hope somewhere along the way
I've stirred yer memories of long past days
In your wee toon
By Ian Campbell
I’ll tell you, your hearts
Of a madman’s flight from
When Adolph Hitler’s plane
Across the hills and down
And o’er the highways of
To fill our Scottish
hearts with fear
By dropping bombs around
The night was soft with
And the lovely scent of
the Gaillard Towers.
The moon shone down with
That lit up the roof of
And the big steam hammer
went clop, clop, clop
As it thumped away in the
The plane came roaring
through a fog
That blotted out the “Mirk
And Adolph shouted “Herman
Be ready now, we’re nearly
When I shout “Right” just
pull the trigger
We might have luck and hit
The plane came roaring
down with zest,
The medals clinked on
The Blacksmith’s shop was
When Hitler shouted out
Bot Goering only cursed
And said “Der blasted
The Adolph Hitler lost his
He shut the roaring engine
The plane went whirling
round and round
And took a nose dive for
And rested with almighty
At the open door of the
Ah! Sad it’s now my tale
How every man rushed out
Every hammersman and
And “Shadow” with his
They all came out to share
Jock McArthur and Angus
Every man with shout of
From apprentices to Tammy
They dragged them Jerries
in the shop
And ragged them till they
If this be Hell, then pray
And introduce us to the
The Blacksmiths said “We
grant your grace”
So Paddy Kelly blacked his
And danced round with two
Scalding “Hit” and Herman
And shouted “Hitler” mark
For I’m the “Devil in this
But this they didn’t hear
For both had fainted clean
When “Hitler wakened from
The Germans say he gave a
And summoned all the Nazi
Even Lord Haw Haw and Dr.
He said “Mine friends,
Deres noting surer
If you love me, your nobel
Mine aeroplanes you must
From dat vild place dey
Not yet one single bomb
One hundred miles from der
For in my dreams I saw der
Der Devil calling out our
And felt der auful
That makes me sure der
place is “Hell”
So do not bomb it from
I may be sent there when
Jock the Barber
Auld Stinson toon in days o yore was blessed wi characters by the
an mony a wan his life had spent wi jist a nickname that maist folk kent.
Even men in business, profession, trade, bore pseudonyms that wid neverfade.
This rymin tale tells a aboot yin, Wha forever bore the nickname "blin."
There were in the toon five barber shops, frae the cross tae whaur the the shore
road stops. But the wan best kent by stinson folk, was a wee shop ayeways cau'd
"Blin Jocks". A striped pole on the ootside wa, proclaimed it's trade tae yin an
"A". While bold black pent abin the door, spelled "John Anderson" proprietor.
Inside nae fancy decor,just a swivil chair, the kind thats bolted tae the flair.
wi pedals on the left an right, tae change the angle or the hight,
roon the wa a bench type sait, whaur customers their turn could wait.
cushions, upholstery, no a sign, the bench taps were a rough hewn pine.
An if yi wriggled aboot a bit, yi whiles got splinters whaur yi sit.
Broon lino covered a widden flair, wi worn patches here an there.
On the wa, the chair wis facin, a mirror hung abin a wash hand basin.
An shelves o gless baith lang and wide, held jaurs an packets on either side.
A Notice hung beside the door, sixpence a haircut a shave for four.
Hauf price for pensioners, please don't spit, boys haircut a silver thripennybit.
Noo when Jock wis a young man in his prime, had been in business a wee short
time, On a friday in the month o june, A travelin show came tae the toon. Huge
banners wavin in the air, A circus, Wild west show an fair, Wi cowboys, indians,
horses, donkeys, Elephants, Tigers, Lions an monkeys came thro the cross, As the
'brass baun played, leading clowns an animals in a big parade.
Takin their time from the big drums beat, went prancin,dancin doon the street.
Like a procession goin tae Noah's Ark, they made their way tae Warner park.
The next day at the stroke o three, the circus show held a matinee. An 'bairns
wi faces a'aglow, brocht their parents tae see the show. A'hint the big tent,
whaur the grun wis bare, were the animal cages in a square, an bonzo the chimp,
a fly wee ape, had seen his cage door was agape. Wi a grin showin teeth like a
tiger shark, swung frae the cage an oot the park.
He skipt alang thro the cuckoo brig, an up shore road at a fair auld jig. Past
the caley station as a train puffed thru, bye the coalyaird owned by Auld Tam
Frew. Slipped thru the bottom entry gate, intae
the grun o the Warner Estate.
Alang the fence an ower the wa, thru back gairdens o the miners raw.
An entered new street via the close, O the hoose next door tae the thistle an
rose, coverin the grun at a steady lope, He nipped thru the door o the barbers
Jock's shop had been quate for an hour or so, as maist folk had gone tae see the
show, So wi time tae spare, Jock had his tea, then thocht a great idea wid be,
tae trim his sideburns an moustache ,an gie his face a wee bit wash, But by
mischance, quite unforseen, he'd rubbed Carbolic Soap in baith his een.
He wis tryin wae a towel tae ease the sting. When the bell abin the door went
'ping' He turned tae the doorway,an saw the ape, As a fuzzy, shadowy, upright
shape, Vaguely familiar aboot four feet high, Tae his pain wracked een,it wis a
"shut the door"an don't staun there, come in an get up on the chair
The chimp obliged,He wis trained indeed, Wi the hair cloth on, Jock felt
it's heid, His tear filled een,rid rimmed an sair ,thocht by touch he'd
Cut the monkeys hair.
"My God"He said it's twa three years, since this heid's felt barbers
sheirs. For the clipping's i"ll need a sack, Yer hairs richt doon yer neck
an back. Tae recompense me for ma trouble, I dout I'll hae tae charge yi
Jock clipped awa,tho nearly "Blin" when twa men frae the circus came in "Come on
then Bonzo"you've had yer fun, Back to the cage, Yer stravagins done. The chimp
sprang up, an oot the chair, an scampered tae them across the flair, They were
but hauf-wey oot the door, When Jock let oot an awfie roar,"hey afore yi gang
awa wi him, He owes me thrippens fur the trim!
Noo the story o Jock an the chimpanzee, fur a hunner years will never dee,
An that's why a 'the
Stinson folk, ca 'their favourite barber "AULD BLIN JOCK.