Songs, Poems and Prose about the Vale of Leven

Over the last couple of hundred years we have had a few songs, poems and prose written about the Vale of Leven. Some of the more popular of these are listed below. We would very much welcome any more contributions. If you have any old written material about the Vale please forward it to us and we will include it on this page.

Hugh Caldwell's Poetry (Includes download of the text of his book)
Hugh Caldwell was a local poet who died in 1903. His work, mostly written about local places and events, is humble, observant and humourous. It is not celebrated in this area as it should be because it does convey an honest appreciation of what life was like in the Vale of Leven in the late 1800s.

No one would claim that Caldwell's poetry reached the standard of Robert Burns' works but Caldwell was evidently an admirer of Burns and his influence can be seen in lots of his work. His poem "I Canna get a lad" is a good example of his humourous work.

I CANNA GET A LAD

I'm a big, stoot, strappin' hizzie, on the verge o' twenty-three;
I'm as modest, neat, and tidy as a country girl could be;
My hame has mony comforts, yet my heart is seldom glad,
And the cause o' a' my sorrow is I canna get a lad.

I can wash, knit, darn, and bake, patch claes and scrub a flair;
Cook a dizen different dishes for a nobleman and mair;
Work the best ten-fingered dochter ever Scottish mither had,
And I dinna ken the reason that I shouldna get a lad.

Big Peggy roun' the corner, "Black Fanny" up the stair,
And soor‑faced Sally Sorkins wi' the ginger-coloured hair,
And gabblin' Jenny Jenkins, they're everything that's bad,
Yet I am quate and dacent, and I canna get a lad.

There's lang, lean Tibby Fowler, wha everybody kens,
Her faither some sax years sin' gat jile for stealin' hens;
She's ugly and untidy, and ever puirly clad,
Yet she's haen a dizen offers, and I canna get a lad.

Auld "teethless Jean," the widdy, wi' the funny goggle e'e,
Has buried twa braw husbands, and intends to bury three;
She'll sune wed Johnny Maurley—puir sowl! he must be mad
To coort yon auld dune limmer, and me canna get a lad.

If only "Crookit Chairlie" or bashfu' John M'Nee
Wad mak' a sweet proposal to a thrifty lass like me,
I'd brichten up his hoosie, and never mak' him sad,
For the dreary garret waits me if I canna get a lad.

View Caldwell's Works >

Katherine Drain's poetry is also an accurate reflection of life in the Vale of Leven at the turn of the 19th Century.

FESTINA-LENTE.

Dear, gentle reader, I implore thee,
When I shall place my book before thee—
            Look not with scorn,
But with thy sweetest smile advise me,
And do not coldly criticise me—
            Thou art but born.

Dame Nature from her lofty station
Can shower the gifts, while education,
            She may refuse it.
But the charm, for poetry hath endeared me,
And to keep the life in one who reared me
            I freely choose it.

Some lift the pen for pleasure only,
While I, in hours so sad find lonely,
            My soul doth pour.
And when in bed I should be sleeping,
Line after line, I sit here keeping
            The wolf from the door.

Then kindly read my simple story,
Free from fiction’s tales of glory
            Or dreadful crimes,
And this heart great joy shall bound in
Should you have any merit found in
            Loch Lomond Rhymes.

Katherine Drain 1902

We are once again indebted to Graham Lappin for providing the text of both of the above books. Graham is a collector of all things Vale of Leven and a regular contributor of content to this website.

In years of research Graham also tracked down some other local poets. The most notable of these is perhaps William Harriston who offered an insight into the Vale and its circumstances in the early nineteenth century in his works William Harriston was born in Glasgow around 1780.  As a child he was schooled and was an avid reader but his father became ill and in the reduced family circumstances, aged nine, he was apprenticed to a weaver who grudged even the day off to attend his father’s funeral. 

At fourteen, he became a journeyman and moved to Strathblane where he met and married his wife Margaret M‘Gregor.  About this time war was declared on France.  Most likely he joined the Dumbarton Fencibles raised by Lord Stonefield in 1794 in response to, and with them served a total of eight years in Ireland, being gone, in the first instance for six years with no home leave! 

After the peace of Amiens in 1802, the Dumbarton Fencibles were disbanded and he was able to resume his work as a weaver.  But the reductions in trade with the Continent during Napoleon’s campaigns and blockade of the Netherlands and the resultant slump in wages in the weaving trade around 1808 forced him to seek employment as a fisherman on the Leven. DOWNLOAD >

Other works that Graham has collected that can be downloaded here are from Duncan Mathieson, James McNab Jnr, Duncan Ferguson and "TD". Some of these were sourced from old newspapers of the time available in Dumbarton Library.

A fellow member of the Alexandria Burns Club, Duncan McLean, has also written some local poetry. One of these is a lament about days gone by and the ruinous damage inflicted on Alexandria by the planning authorities back in the 1970s. Duncan calls this poem the Wail o' the Vale.

BEAUTIFUL VALE OF THE LEVEN

1. Oh where is the land that can boast aught so fair,
As the Queen of Scotch Lakes midst the pure mountain air,
‘Tis not the Rhine Valley that any could win
To the beautiful scenes of the Vale of the Leven

Chorus

Beautiful Vale, Beautiful Vale
Beautiful Vale of the Leven

2. It is sheltered all round from the wild storm and gale
While the old Castle Rock point far up the Vale
Ben Lomond in friendship nods back to the Clyde
And the hills of Carman shade its western side

3. I have viewed it in sunshine, I have viewed it in shade
I have viewed it in summer with blossom arrayed
I have seen it in winter, when clad o’er wi’ snow
But to me it is lovely in mid’st of them a’

4. Its sons that are scatter’d far over the earth
Oft remember the Vale that at first gave them birth
And the kind friends they left when they bade it adieu
Oft they long to look back jsut to see it a-new

5. When the cares and the toils of this life are near o’er
And my bark is nearing yon beautiful shore
My last wish is this, that to me it be given
To be laid to my rest in the Vale of the Leven

Words and Music by James Shanks, Farmer Ladyton Farm, Bonhill

THE BRAES O’ BONULL (Bonhill)

Oh weel dae I mind o’ ma earlier days
When mony’s a time I climbed the high braes.
A’ sat by the burnie that’s aye runnin still,
The wee burn that runs doon the braes o’ Bonull

[CHORUS: The braes o’Bonull are aye clad wi’ weans
Some pullin daisies and ithers chippin stanes,
The crying o’ the cuckoo and the roarin’ o’ the bull
And you’ll aye be contented on the braes o’ Bonull]

If ye want tae walk yer lass, I’ll tell you whaur tae gang,
Just go up the Slunger and as ye go alang
Ask her there to be your wife and kiss her at her will
And then gie her a dauner o’er the braes o’ Bonull.
CHORUS
Noo I’m getting auld and I’m sorry for to say,
My legs they are frail and my hair is turning gray
Noo I sit by the door on my three legit still
And watch the bairnies playing on the braes o’ Bonull
CHORUS
Noo I maun away, I hae bide’t rather lang,
And I hope you’re a’ content wi’ my wee bit humble sang,
But if we ever meet again and hae another gill
We’ll drink success to the days we spent on the braes o’ Bonull

Words and Music Unknown

 

THE VALLEY WHERE THE LEVEN FLOWS
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Words and Music by Archibald McFarlane

A SPRIG O' PURPLE HEATHER
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Words and Music Unknown

LASS OF LEVENVALE
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Words by Ross Crawford Music by Ian Gourlay

QUEEN OF SCOTTISH LAKES
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Words and Music by Archibald McFarlane

TO THE AULD OAK TREE THAT STOOD IN ALEXANDRIA (POEM)

WHEN we were little children
Aroun' it aft we played,
An' linked oor herts in frienship
Beneath its leafy shade,
An' told oor childish fancies
Wi' merry, sparklin' e'e,
When sitting 'neath the branches
O' the auld oak tree.

But its bonnie, leafy branches
We'll never see again;
Nor the little, lauchin' faces,
That gathered roun' it then;
For those we loved are scattered,
An' some in daith sleep soun';
An' the auld oak tree sae bonnie
Has long since been cut doon.

As roun' the town we wan'er,
In wonder aft we pause;
We miss the modest hooses,
Wi' their bonnie, white-washed wa's.
We miss the friendly faces,
An' we see big streets aroun';
The fountain's taen the oak tree's place
Tae decorate the toon.

The stiff an' solemn fountain,
Withoot a spark o' life;
Through simmer an through winter
The scene o' prayer an' strife.
Unlike the lovely oak,
Wi' its giant branches dear,
That filled oor herts wi' gladness
Through mony a weary year.

But youth an' joy hae vanished,
An' naethin' can reca'
The little lauchin' faces
That daith has taen awa'.
An' we, grown tired and feeble,
This worl' o' strife maun lea';
Tae be forgot for ever,
Like the auld oak tree.

Hugh Caldwell >

We received an epic prose poem written by local historian and author Billy Scobie. The first couple of verses follow but the whole poem can be downloaded as a PDF here.

Levenach

The Story of the Working Peoples of the Vale of Leven.

Fast-flowing,
she has coiled
a living, ever-changing
yet constant course
from Lomond
to the Clyde.
Always she has been
a confluence
of two worlds,
two peoples,
two mythologies.

Loch Lomond –
glacier-gouged fiord,
born of the melting ice.
A holy place
of saints and sanctuaries.
Keledei –
Kessog, Kentigerna…
with sacred islands
and the Celtic Christianity
of a Gaelic-speaking people
whose Irish ancestors
brought Scotland
her very name.

Download PDF with full poem >