Where I Am From 5

"I am from poetry often recited by heart"

At any family gathering my Father would regale us with one of his favourite epic poems usually from the canon of Robert Service. Service although born in Preston was brought up in Kilwinning which is only a few miles from our home.

Another favourite was The Bairnies a poem by Alexander Anderson. Anderson was born in Kirconnel in 1845 and started his working life in the quarry at 16 before moving on to work for the railways as a surfaceman. He learned French, German and Italian so that he could read the works of Moliere and Beranger, Goethe and Schiller and Dante. He also learned Spanish to read Cervantes in the original tongue. He went on to become Librarian at Edinburgh University.

When my Dad died I did a bit of research into the poem, The Bairnies, and found out that in fact it was four separate poems called Cuddle Doon, Wauken Up, The Last To Cuddle Doon and Rab Comes Hame.

When he recited the poems my Father never included Wauken Up. Why this should be I do not know except when you read this one it feels different to the others.

It is a strange poem for my Dad to have chosen to learn as it is spoken by the Mother. I often wonder where my Dad came across this poem. It appears that Surfaceman's work was often in The People's Friend a magazine that I know my Grandmother used to take.

Cuddle Doon

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht,
Wi' muckle faught an' din -
"Oh try and sleep. ye waukrife rogues,
Your faither's comin' in"
They never heed a word I speak
I try to gie a froon,
But aye I hap them up an' cry,
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon.

Wee Jaimie wi' the curly heid-
He aye sleeps next the wa' -
Bangs up an' cries, "I want a piece" -
The rascal starts them a'.
I rin and fetch them pieces, drinks,
They stop awee the soun',
Then draw the blankets up an' cry,
"Noo weanies, cuddle doon."

But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot, fae 'neath the claes,
"Mither, mak Tam gi'e owre at ance,
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."
The mischief's in that Tam for tricks,
He'd bother half the toon;
But aye I hap them up an' cry,
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."

At length they hear their faither's fit,
An' as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces to the wa'
While Tam pretends to snore.
"Ha'e a' the weans been gude?" he asks,
As he pits aff his shoon
"The bairnies John are in their beds,
An' lang since cuddled doon."

An' just before we bed oorsel's,
We look at oor wee lambs;
Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck,
An' Rab his airm roun' Tam's.
I lift wee Jaimie up the bed,
An' as I straik each croon,
I whisper till my heart fills up,
"O bairnies, cuddle doon."

The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear to me;
But sune the big warl's cark an' care
Will quaten doon their glee.
Yet, come what will to ilka ane,
May He who rules aboon
Aye whisper, though their pows be bald,
"O, bairnies, cuddle doon."

To be continued ...