Findochty in 1933
Alex Sutherland,'Sid', (1881-1935), "The Bard of Findochty"
Printed in The Banffshire Advertiser, February, 2003.
As I woiuld take my pen in hand,
With all the powers that I command,
I feel my brain has limitations,
And can't expand to other nations,
To grasp their inner politics,
But this I know they're in a fix.
Cause and effect both go together,
When strong winds blow we've stormy weather,
Leave the effect but find the cause,
This correspnds with nature's laws,
Simply to come to the point,
This great vast world is out of joint.
Business in every branch's affected,
In trading we are all connected,
And Soviet Russia is at fault,
They say oor herring's are too salt,
And through their tariffs and their quarrels,
Leave us a lot of empty barrels.
Our fishing trade it is hard hit,
Our pride was once the herring net,
Now through the irony of fate,
Our fleet of boats are far in debt,
It is a serious handicap,
The Drifters to be sold for scrap.
And we can see that men are willing,
You try and earn an honest shilling,
Some at the roads some at the quarry,
Breaking stones wheeling a barrow,
On any job that can be found,
If only they can earn a pound.
The harbour's undergoing repair,
A squad of men are working there,
The pier head it was badly cracked,
Inside, with rubbish it was packed,
It seems they will not be content,
Until they have it, pure cement.
The sprool men they are trying the sea,
They land their fish on the East Quay.
Some days they maybe get a spot,
That seems to keep them on the hop,
From the Hattle, West of Craigenroan,
Their price is eighteen pence a stone.
Some tried the creels, I wonder why?
The lobsters, seemed to pass them by,
Fine new creels and one new bait,
To tempt the lobster to their fate,
What's the reason, it seems rare,
It's just because they aren't there.
Click to return to our Poets' corner
And so the creels are stowed away,
Because the game it wouldn't pay,
Another instance of the times,
We've baffled to describe the times,
And though the business we can handle,
The game it is not worth a candle.
And now about our education,
This busines has caused indignation,
The present strife is the school site,
At all events it is a fight,
And in this drama the chief actor,
You may be sure it is the factor.
Findochty mostly one and all,
Say up near the Masonic Hall,
The Factor wants it at Brae Flett,
Our towns folk think it's rather wet,
I trust that we will win the day,
The majority should have their say.
I've done my best the news to tell,
As scholars say in a nutshell,
But as a bard of low degree,
Not passed the Univesity,
Censure I praise shall go unheeded,
And you can judge if I've succeeded.