The following rhyme won North Antrim Rhymer 'Charlie Reynolds' a prize in 'The Ulster Scot' periodical.

Wae God on Their Side

Thae left hame in hunners wae nae thochts o' fear,

An tha hale countryside cum oot for tae cheer,

These young men o' Ulster their ain kith an kin,

Wha wae God on their side thae kent thae wud win.

A wheen cum bak hame in wee dribs an' drabs,

Tae silent sad faces an tha soun o' oul weeman's sabs,

For sae mony wur slachtered wae God on their side,

But thae a dee'd brav heroes tae stap Deil's tide.

But that wus lang sine an folk shane forgot,

Nae time for remembrance, nae time for regret,

Naw even twa minits o' their silence tae spare,

For wae God on their side shure thae dinnae care.

Charlie 'Tha Poocher' Reynolds

.. and now for something completely different!

Here's a wee rhyme by 'Tha Wizard' about the 'Ballintoy Gunslingers'.

Burberry Man M'Grew

Me an the boys wur fu' as po's, 
In M'Shafertie's saloon, 
An a fermers boy fae Balintoy, 
Wus murderin a Jim Reeves tune. 

At the enn o the bar in dungarees, 
An whut wus left o a Burberry coat, 
Sut a boy wha come in, as blak as sin, 
An a baerd like Jamiesons goat, 

Sittin watchin him lake a cat wae a moose, 
An naw a bar in hir grate, 
Sut a rickle o‚ bones aboot seven stone, 
She wus known as Tolly Eye't Kate. 

She had fell through the door, She wus kell't like a boar, 
She had sa‚ monies a gye ruch hoose 
She cursed an she swore an she sput on the floor, 
Drinkin still an boortry juice. 

Weel she wink't at the boy in the Burberry coat, 
An seys she, ir ye passin through, 
Seys he, yis ma'am, indeed I am, 
I am gan tae the boar wae a soo. 

She striddl't oot ower an she seys tae him, 
Mae boy that's a gye dark nicht, 
It's up tae you but for drivin a soo, 
Ye cud Œve dane wae a bit o a licht.

 

Seys he sowl dae ye know, yer‚e naw sae slow 
For baith me an the soo‚s clean bate, 
She tweedl't hir thooms an she bar't hir gooms, 
Is that the soo that's tied tae the gate, 

I hae a Hurrican lamp up at my oul camp, 
An strenger if your game 
I'll see ye richt for the len o' a licht, 
Geen you wud see me hame. 

Weel he got cleek‚t on hir erm'the boady mean‚t nae herm, 
But that's whun hell bruk loose, 
For Scabby Heid't Dan the oul dolls man 
Come intae the public hoose. 

Weel he lukk‚t at the boy in the Burberry coat, 
An lot oot a baw like a bull, 
An seys he richt mate, lee go oor Kate, 
Or I'll knock in your bloody skull. 

He pley't race for yer man in the Burberry coat, 
An put him clean aff hes feet, 
An in a cloud o stoor they gane throo the dure, 
An they focht in the dark coul street. 

Weel they tell mae that, barrin twa buck cats, 
Sich a fecht wus niver seen, 
The steet turn't red as the twa boys bled , 
An blaken't ithers een. 

Boys the rips an the tears ye wud‚v thocht twa bears, 
Wus fechtin for Tolly Eye't Kate, 
On murder bent tae doon they went, 
Ower the soo that wus tyed tae the gate. 

As sure as ye wur boarn the very nixt moarn, 
Lyin there wae thoor pans knock't in, 
Wus Scabby Heid‚t Dan an the Burberry man, 
Wae nebs an knuckles skinn't.

 

Sure it's nae surprise, that mens naw wise, 
It's mony times prove't true, 
As they got wash't at the pump,wae thoor heid full o lumps, 
Oul Burberry miss't the soo. 

Seys the fermers boy fae Belintoy 
An he swore whut he sey'd wus true, 
Och! Bliss mae sowl, whun ye's wur baith felt coul, 
Oul Kate wus away wae the soo.

Charlie 'Tha Wizard' Gillen

This next rhyme won Charlie the Cup at the 'Bard of Ballycarry' competition, a few years ago.

Pratas

Did ye gether tae a spinner,

Whun the deys wus shoart an' coul,

Did the digger man keep kempin,

Tae yeh curst he's verra sowl.

Did ye iver poo the prata taps,

An' pile them in the fiel',

An' burn them efter quattin' time,

Whun oot the moon she'd steal.

Did ye iver in the ashes, 

Roast a prata ye had dug,

Did ye ate it lake a banquet,

Wur ye blak fae ear tae lug.

Did ye iver in the moonlicht,

Bing up a prata pit,

Lake I dane fifty years ago,

Ach!! Heth I min' it yit.

Did ye iver watch yer fether,

Wae rashes thatch the pit,

Wae yer bak turn't tae the greeshagh,

O' the fire ye had lit.

If ye niver sa' or dane these things,

Ye'll mebbe naw agree,

But memr'ys, whiles is al' we hae,

Oul country men lak me.

Yeh see, the fermer then, wae whut he had,

He wrocht fae dey tae dey,

An him an nature dooble yokkt,

Gane on thoor simple way.

They sey I'm oul an dotin',

An in the past I'm loast,

But tae the men o' yisteryear,

I'd lake tae drink a toast.

Here's tae them men wha know't the lan,

The saysons an the craps,

Wae misty een I see them yit,

Amang the prata taps.

Charlie 'The Wizard' Gillen

Here's a wee rhyme Charlie Gillen wrote, to celebrate the launch of our wee group 'Scad the Beggars'. 

Unfortunately, Charlie is no longer in the group, he's very busy on the radio these days, and the line up has changed a little over the years, but you'll be pleased to hear we're still going strong.

'Scad the Beggars'

WE’LL TAK YE BACK TAE GRANNY, 
WAE HER SKILLET ON THE CROOK, 
THE RECIPES O’ YISTERYEAR, 
THEY NIVIR LEEV’T WITHIN A BOOK. 

CHORUS 
SCAD THE BEGGARS, MEALIE CRUSHIE, 
YE CAN CA’ IT WHAT YE CAN, 
OATEN MALE AN BACON CREESH, 
TASTY FRYIN IN THE PAN. 

WE HANNAE GOT THE OAT MEAL, 
NOR HAE WE A FRYIN PAN, 
BUT WERE HERE TAE ENTERTAIN YE 
WI THE SCAD THE BEGGARS BAND. 

COME BACK IN TIME A DANNER ,
JOOST COME WAE US FOR A WHILE,
TAE HEAR THE TUNES AN SANGS AN STORIES ,
THAT ARE SURE TAE YE BEGUILE.

HOOCH, CLAP AN JOIN THE FUN ,
AN WATCH YER CARES A' FLEE AWA’,
AN GIN YE’D AYE KEN THE CHORUS ,
THEN YE AW CAN SING AWA’ .

SHUT YER EEN AN DRIFT AWA ,
FOR MEMORIES O’ TIMES LANG GAN ,
ON THE SHIP O' DREAMS COME SAILIN ,
WAE THE SCAD THE BEGGARS BAND.

Charlie 'The Wizard' Gillen