James ‘Our Jimmy’ Young Poem

They have given me me notice. I must pack
me sticks an go It’s part of this slum clearance scheme an
it must be done a know because, a house is like a person, it gets
run down an oul an it suffers like the rest o us from the
years aheed an coul. The talk is all o housin trusts an flats an
new estates, have bathrooms an wee gardens an subsidies
for rates. but down near at the City Hall uner the big
green dome, that the minage place their pullin down is
some poor crater’s home. It seems like only yesterday since my Mary
dear an me come to this house from our honeymoon it was
a trip to Cardeley an this wee house bit us welcome, we knew
that this was home an always we would mind it no matter who would
rome. The front door had a knocker with a shine
that would blin your eye an the winda’s got a lick o paint each year
around July. With paper an its temper, we would always
kept it neat an sure Mary scrubbed the front door step
half roads across the street. We had the wee back yard well white washed
an as neat as it could be o nastursium’s an bergonia’s an some ferns
ecarnity. There’s a wee hout who’s placed down the yard
it often makes me grin. The doors still got the chisel marks where
wee shoey got shut in. The childer grew up roun us six fine sturdy
sons we had. This wee house bid them welcome, it was home
till every lad. It’ll linger in their memories still, though
far they had to rome. The waters call it just a slum, till them
it’s, it’s home. We had no television then, but ach, sure we’d
never lack lots of good company round the fire an a bit
of friendly craic. An ja know this wee house seemed ta listen.
When a neighboured toul a joke an, somehow it would hear it laughin back
when I’m given the fire a poke. We had one wee golden lassy were we’d be watchin
smile. we thought her light the brightest for it
shone that short a while. an on the day she left us, it was as if this
house knew for with silent sadness this wee house, mourned
her to. Soon Mary was to follow after, the man above
knows best, I’ll be content till I’m beside them when
it comes my time to rest. But I wish they’d let me stay a while till
the master bids me come. An the wee house bright with memories, an
they call it just a slum.

6 thoughts on “James ‘Our Jimmy’ Young Poem

  1. Our Jimmy , never been one like him, when i worked in the Co-oP I delivered his messages to him up the top of Castlereagh Rd. in the 50,s.

  2. The song is called The Old House. The first line is 'Lonely I wander through scenes of my childhood.' It's beautiful!

  3. The song is called 'The Old House' The first line is 'Lonely I wander through scenes of my childhood, they bring back to memory those happy days of yore.'

  4. brilliant ..does anyone have i loved a papish girl .please ..so many sad memories but loving ones also

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