by: Mackie, Alastair
My primary teachers o the Thirties
maun aa be middle-aged skeletons by nou.
Aa weemin they were.
The early snaw in their hair.
They pit up wi impetigo, flechy heids,
and bairns that couldna pey their books-
the fathers were on the broo.
And yet they did learn us, yon auld wives,
We chantit tables like bairn-rhymes
to keep aff the inspectors or the heidie.
And when we spelled the classroom skreichit
sclatey music fae oor soap-scoured slates.
Their scuds were murder- the Lochgelly soond.
'Don't turn on the water-works' they girned.
(They spoke English)
The kent naethin o new methods
but in their fashion they were as teuch
as gauleteirs, ramrods withoot breists.
They did their T.C.s prood.
I salute ye nou,
Miss Smith, Miss Tough, Miss McIvor-
steam-hemmers somebody maun hae loved.