Keep mind o' me

(A Daurlington Wean)

By John Gilbert Conning

Taken from the 1998 Bonnet Guild Festival Guide

Bien braw baukit Bonnet Toun keep mind o' me,

Tae yur folks wi' hearts o' gold.

Wi' yur river banks an' fireside swee,

Whaur prolific stories old are told.

Tae yur sweet lilt singin' mavis,

Enhancin' melodies frae the river,

Dancin' meanderin' Annick waters

Leave ma' honest heart, yearnin' never.

In Wylie Place off Dean Street bide

Twas the ben first born a mite

A Daurlinton wean fu' o' pride

Fand Stewarton's May dew mornin' light.

An awe the roads that spider oot

Frae Cross tae ony place on earth

Oor Bonnet Toun's the heart, sure foot

Oor backbone, selfworth an' warly hearth.

Remind me tae a viaduct proud and foremost

Trackin' trains o' time.
An obelisk to not forgotten soldiers lost

Gone forever, severed in their prime.

Tae yur cemetery's sleeping heroes low

o' oor kin folks growin' toun.

Whaur the Flow'rs o' the forest grow

To blossom in our Saviours heavenly room.

Tae ilka quile, flow'r an' bonnie weed trod

In Corsehill Bank, Robertland an' Lainshaw Wood.
Tae tred again as wee limmer an' wee laud

Haun in haun aye wished, if only, we could,

Ilk blade o' green or frosted leaf that fa's

ilk a tender sun an' moon attended by a Bard

Meticulously filed as times a thief wi' nae just cause

Hence this treasure filled soul stole frae hames backyard.

The west coast line what sicht sair e'en behold
Fiery skies a zephyr uplifffn'

J. Taylor Brown giftin' sceneries unfold

Drenched heart blossoms wi' pride tae wet yur ee'

Staggerin' words come pourin' oot o' me
Because emotions, an' compassion's, gets the better o' me

An' if it wisane fur this, a poet I'd be.

Sae ye ken some boast o' wonders far an' wide

0' grandeur, fortune, love o' ilka kind

But a man can only be what's deep inside

A greener grass within tae seek an' find

An auld Bean Mull, the Cairns, Dunlop Street schule

Yet the yells an' bells haunts o' Jock Megill

Can be heard frae Lainshaw Hoose to Avenue Square.

Whyles stars reflected frae Kirk stain'd windae panes

A millennium of picture show, come an' go without a flinch

That Stewarton's John Gilmour wis no unlike

Fergusson's blood an' bains Naebody gave a second thocht

Nae bloody mind, naebody gee's an' inch.

Ma love fur toun breaks aw known boundaries of ink from heart

Wha'ud set rules but fools to discipline true love

Ma metre rhyme an' phrases, blush faces o' gentry o' the art

It's a rare few whaud understand one who has truly loved.

Dear Scotia if you're lookin' fur yur pearl

Stewarton oor Bonnet Toun will forever "Knit Weel"

Contentment is absent mair often, frae this whole big wide world

Ask ony Daurlinton born wean

Until then I bid ye fareweel
 

I am, Dear Bonnet Toun,

yours sincerely

John Gilbert Conning.

28th November, 1997.