“Willie Mackie´s Homecoming” #kilbirnie #northayrshire #scotland

 

Willie Mackie left Kilbirnie Scotland to emigrate to the USA as many people did before him, in search of a better life. As the title suggests, this was his homecoming celebration in Kilbirnie Gospel Hall Brethren Assembly.

This photo would be from the 1930s. I’m not sure if he returned to the USA at a later date or settled in Kilbirnie again.

The Hawthorn – Kilbirnie auld cemetery poem

Daniel 2: 21

Upon the leaf of hawthorn green appears a drop of dew, with spiders webs reflecting frost upon the bush´s hue.

And comes an Angel staff in hand, reflected in the drop, where Lord and Lady Crawford lie, with sticks and lollipops.

As the sun does take a turn, the whited ground turns green, the Angel walks towards the gate and light shines in between.

And as the dew dries for the day, a sign that autumn comes, as well as days where dew will stay till sunset has begun.

And as the Angel´s shadow moves along the back kirk wall, acid rain from steel work days the people do recall.

Her sandals bare, they leave a trace of markings in the clay, where snowdrops rise beneath her feet on snowy winter days.

And to the gate she slowly walks, her staff upon the ground, with every turn a splash of white can surely here be found.

By the sign of service times, a smaller crack appears, a line upon an ageing brow brings a grandson´s fears.

And as she leaves, our minds are changed but not filled up with fear, her coming speaks of life more meek with passing of the years.

#kilbirnie #poem #northayrshire #scotland

 

If kilbirnie was a harp with strings
I’d surely sweep a strain,
An everlasting melody
Which no man could restrain

I’d write a song of thanksgiving
Of peace and love and cheer
To bless the town  with all its woes
Bring pleasure to their ears

I’d play the song on knoxville road
And at the Walker Hall
I’d play it at the Labour club
While drunkards take their fall

I’d play the harp so silently
For those who hate the sound
To aid them out of hopelessness
To turn their lives around

I’d  sweep a strain of sad refrain
At  steel works passing by
I’d touch upon a melody
And older folks would cry

I’d play it softly at the match
While folks would cheer their team
And move along the  park so long
To watch the Garnock stream

I’d play the harp across the tracks
As cyclists speed me by
I’d play and wait at  graveyard’s gates
For mourners with their sighs

I’d play it at the Garnock’s heart
Right up at Jacob’s Well,
where no one goes to see it flow
Or care to even tell

I’d play a tune right at the school
The Children would be pleased
I’d pass the harp to little ones
To hold upon their knees

So to the town with all my sounds
And everlasting strains
I leave  the harp  right at the  cross
For others who remain

To strain their sounds of happiness
And hope for all the town
To watch it grow  with sadness no!
As an everlasting crown.

#glengarnock #poem #northayrshire

If Glengarnock were a nightingale
All day it’s song would sing
Around the houses, through the streets
Oh the joy that it would bring

It’s tiny feet upon the roofs
Of buildings, trees and lawns
Spreading joy on little wings
And chirping at the dawn

Songs of hope and thanksgiving
For all the good thats here
From Auchengree to Barkip farm
With eyes so crisp and clear

And by the station trees it sits
For all the passers by
None can silence joy and hope
As the bird soars in the sky

On the coldest winter morn
Or by the frozen burn
The bird will chirp its peace and love
At every waking turn

And on the happy days of spring
While children take to rest
The little bird at Longbar farm
Will nestle in its nest

The House at #Kilbirnie Cross

This house stood at the cross, known as “the breast” presumably because it stood at the “breast of the brae”. The wall gives a clue to its exact location. The black monument at the front is maybe the same marker which now stands by Bridgend Community Centre, marking distances between towns.