Ayrshire Towns and Parishes

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 Stevenston Nostalgia

This 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
In Auchenharvie

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 Anon.(MT)


A Madman’s Dream

By Ian Campbell


I’ll tell you, your hearts to gladden

Of a madman’s flight from Berchtesgaden;

When Adolph Hitler’s plane came soaring,

Across the hills and down the breeze

And o’er the highways of the seas

To fill our Scottish hearts with fear

By dropping bombs around Ardeer.


The night was soft with passing showers

And the lovely scent of the Gaillard Towers.

The moon shone down with ghostly hue

That lit up the roof of the Tentelew

And the big steam hammer went clop, clop, clop

As it thumped away in the blacksmith’s shop.


The plane came roaring through a fog

That blotted out the “Mirk and Bog”

And Adolph shouted “Herman dear

Be ready now, we’re nearly here

When I shout “Right” just pull the trigger

We might have luck and hit a rigger.


The plane came roaring down with zest,

The medals clinked on Goering’s chest

The Blacksmith’s shop was just below

When Hitler shouted out “Let go!”

Bot Goering only cursed and damned

And said “Der blasted trigger’s jammed,”


The Adolph Hitler lost his head

He shut the roaring engine dead

The plane went whirling round and round

And took a nose dive for the ground

And rested with almighty flop

At the open door of the Blacksmith’s shop.


Ah! Sad it’s now my tale to tell

How every man rushed out pell-mell

Every hammersman and turner

And “Shadow” with his flaming burner

They all came out to share the fun

Jock McArthur and Angus Gunn

Every man with shout of mirth

From apprentices to Tammy Worth.


They dragged them Jerries in the shop

And ragged them till they shouted “Stop”,

If this be Hell, then pray be civil

And introduce us to the Devil.”


The Blacksmiths said “We grant your grace”

So Paddy Kelly blacked his face

And danced round with two burners roaring

Scalding “Hit” and Herman Goering,

And shouted “Hitler” mark me well,

For I’m the “Devil in this Hell”,

But this they didn’t hear him say

For both had fainted clean away.


When “Hitler wakened from his dream

The Germans say he gave a scream

And summoned all the Nazi nobles

Even Lord Haw Haw and Dr. Goebbles.

He said “Mine friends, Deres noting surer

If you love me, your nobel Fuhrer

Mine aeroplanes you must keep clear

From dat vild place dey call “Ardeer”,

Not yet one single bomb let drop

One hundred miles from der Blacksmith’s Schop,

For in my dreams I saw der flames

Der Devil calling out our names

And felt der auful brimstone schell

That makes me sure der place is “Hell”

So do not bomb it from O’er head

I may be sent there when I’m dead.

Blin Jock the Barber

Auld Stinson toon in days o yore was blessed wi characters by the score.
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 shope.

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 boy.

"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.






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