MAGGIE FAIR
(For Our Ain Loons)
(Published in the Elgin Courant, 1913)
‘T’would be hard tae find a Gaermach or yet a Kingston loon,
Whose memory could e’er let slip the thirtieth o’ June.
It stood aye the red letter day of happy childish years,
How vivid to my memory the distant scene appears.
The pennies a’ were coontit oot we’d saved wi’ sic a care,
And oh! What joy it brocht tae bairns the thocht o’ Maggie Fair!
Like Murry’s “Wee Herd Laddie”, we no’t nae second cry,
For we were up at daylicht tae fin’ oot gin it were dry.
We quietly slippit on oor claes an’ creepit doon the stair,
Then aff alang the Gaermach Road to ken what stauns were there.
We scooted fairly roon the Cross then made a dash for hame
Tae glory ower the ither loons wha hadna been sae game.
What trauchle tae the mithers ere we a’ were riggit oot,
Tho’ the pleasure tae their bairns was rewards enough, nae doot.
The lassies a’ had peenies new and ribbons tae their hair,
The loons got on their Sunday claes wi’ mony a “noo tak’ care”.
We bocht aye first a pistol and a penny box o’ caps;
Fu’ soon the Cross resounded wi’ a fusillade o’ snaps.
Nae Mauser or Lee-Metford did e’er such pleasure give,
Oh! Bright and careless boyish days, ‘twas simple joy to live.
There were dolls and beads and banks, rings and brooches by the score,
Locust beans and treacle candy, corncraiks, trumpets quite a store.
An array o’ gingerbread mannies wi’ neither han’s nor een;
I’ll ne’er forget the “whirligigs” aye quartered on the green.
Mid a’ the kindness o’ the day which bairns can ne’er forget,
There was the rock at Spence’s; ye can mind the flavour yet.
Tae them wha could afford it, the richt dinner for the day
Was the dish o’ “early blues” and fresh salmon fae the Spey.
Wi’ evenin’ cam the fairin’ time and much guid-natured chaff,
The character o’ gifts exchanged caused mony a ringin’ laugh.
If ye’d seen the inside pocket o’ mony a laddie there
Ye’d hae found the mither’s fairin’ hidden by wi’ tenderest care.
It disna mean tae young folk noo what aince tae us it meant,
Their talk is football matches or a tennis tournament.
But mony thochts gae back tae thee fae far across the sea,
An’ aul’ folks herts grow wistful mindin’ on their bairns’ glee.
Kingston-on-Spey A.J.
Published in the Elgin Courier 29 June 1917
“June’s at an end” sang Maggie Fair
As she came hirplin back since mair
To Garmouth’s bonny toon
Wi’ auld and cheery well kent face
Smiling as she taks her place
An’ sits her tanny doon
Wi’ stands ‘ loaded up wi’ fairins
Gitts from far and near – from bairns
O’er a’ the world a’ roon
Who in their days, when peace was rife
In calmness sailed the Sea o’ Life
Noo ain would cuddle doon
Maggie’s nae rusty pensioned dame
But blessed wi’ ministering angel’s tame
And hauds out helping hands
To those brave heroes of our race
Whose might and honour find a place
At hame and other lands
In valour like their sires of old
Who ploughed the main like Vikings bold
Wi’ stately Glenmore seet
Like ships o’ Salamia Bay renown
Their charter’s up their anchor’s down
Their voyage is now complete
Wild Africa’s veldt they wandered o’er
And the rolling main to Australia’s shore
Their gallant sons have crossed
For thy sons and daughters travelled far
“Neath Southern Cross an Eastern Star
But hame was aye their boast
In climes or heat and venture fair
They often think on “Maggie Fair’
An landmarks when a loon
On wings o’ thought their spirits there
With the faithful few wha laughed at care
For their souls were aye atune
Spey’s music some will hear no more
Nor the saugh o’ the waves upon the shore
Nor view the sun fau’n in the west
Nor gang o’re the brae or up the Lein
Alang the streeds, the waves so green
They sleep in the land o’ the blessed
Nae mair they view the firth so blue
Or the sandy tammy ribbon
Where youthful hearts sang Auld Lang Syne
When live was sweet and love devine
Nae discord in their toon
Success attend the Maggie Fail
For the lads in the trenches, sea and air
In castle house or cott
The maimed and sick shall sing the praises
Of angels fair and saintly dames
Who o’re their grieves forget
You noble souls who at trumpets blast
Your country needs you, to give life give all
May joy to you be given
When the music’s strain brings our ladies hame
With victory, peace and the laurels of fame
We’ll reap the vaults o’ heaven
Marshal
From Northern Scot 28 June 1919
Maggie Fair Musings
Garmouth’s Ancient Festival “Maggie Fair”
Come Garmouth bairnies ane an’ a
An’ tae the Cross repair
Wi’ weel hained pennies fill yer pouch
Tae spend at Maggie Fair
The stannies groan ‘neath gingerbread
Balloons, an toys galore,
An trumpets, drums an’ sic-like trock
Are heard doon at the shore
The Ice cream mannie patronise
Gie uncle his due share
An’ noo that sugar’s nae sae scarce
Ye’ll plunky taste aince mair
Oh sic a crood o’ bonnie bairns
Minds ane o’ days o’ yore
O’ joys that ne’er again we’ll share
Wi’ freens noo gane afore
An’ gently as the evening fa’s
An’ quiet reigns aince mair
Think o’ the loons wha ne’er again
Shall join in Maggie Fair
Their voices aince in merry glee
A’roon the Cross did ring
They’ve done their bit, fought the good fight
As soldiers o’ the King
Sae bairnies as yea homeward hie
Wi’ a’ yer fairin’s braw
A gentle thought send o’re the sea
Tae them that’s far away.