Peter

50 years hae just went by
Since yin wee lad came tae Dalry
Yin wee lad ‘mongst many others
Some wae sisters, some wae brothers
Some wee souls there, just their lane
Thae stand and scowl or kick a stane
And think aboot their ain hame toon
Or that big bus that brocht them doon
Some wae parcels some wae nocht
Doon tae safety sop thae thocht
Away frae Hitler’s bombs and war
The journey seemed so affa far
Some quite tidy some wee wrecks
Stood wae gas masks roon their necks.
Wee short troosers, wee skint knees
They were the Glesca’ evacuees
The Clachan folk baith fat and thin
Were waitin’ there tae tak them in
Tae make them welcome, keep them warm
Whether in cottage, hoose, or farm
And so the bus load dwindled fast
Until just yin wee lad stood last.
Peter was the wee soul’s name
Fellin’ sad and far frae hame
His ma had dee’d when he was three
Tears thae trickled frae his ee
A voice then sounded oot the dark
“Come on wee son, I’m Mrs Clark
Dry yer tears and come wae me
I’ll need tae feed ye up, a’see
Plates o’ porridge wull dae ye guid
Some hame-made scones and soup and bread.

I knew Peter frae that day
Mony a time we baith wud play
Cowboys and Indians, hide and seek,
Fitba’ nearly aw the week
Lessons at the Clachan Schule
And Peter lad he was nae fool
Arithmetic it was his best
Kept in front of aw the rest
But as the months and years went by
Yon thin wee lad he left Dalry
Handsome noo wi’ curly hair
And muscles bulging here and there
Nae more we heard o’ Peter lad
Or the kind of job he micht have had.
Then suddenly yin day yin week
A car drew up its brakes did squeak
A voice wae accent kent but rare
Shouted oot, “Is that you there?
You and I went to school
Remember me, you bloody fool?
I just stopped in to say hello
See old friends before I go.
McDermid, Peter is the name
How come that you just look the same?”
“You’re kidding pal, my hair’s turned grey”
“So’s mine, can’t think why it’s gone that way.
The 50 years they’ve just flew past
So here I am, back at last”.