Memories of Langloan

The Langloan Lum

Douglas Longmuir

See yon abandoned chimney stack
Majestic, square and solemn
Beside the rusted railway track

Its monumental column

Subdued by none in airy height
With lofty gaze around

Its aching feet in humble plight
Firm fastened to the ground

Its wide horizon stretches there
In broad expansive view

Beneath its gaze with molten flare
The slagging slowly grew

Then up Dundyvan ' s winding road
To Whifflet's Rosehall crest

An d down to Monklands' last abode
Where now, past voices rest

The fiery blast a t Summe r lee

The flames of Carnbroe
Gartsherrie's carna
l beams w e see
As pigs of iron flow

The belching steam and hamme r s loud
Where men face heat and haze

We see again the glowing cloud

The night's red sky ablaze

Where Greeting Sally wailed her sound
At nine each Monday morn

And wee alarms are mostly wound
To match the British horn

In rumbling train each waggon goes
Mong puffing clouds of steam
While thro it all, still gently flows
The Luggies ruined stream

Then Slap Up closes had their day
And moonlight flits at night

The pubs and pawns in close array
And many a challenge fight

Big monster polismen were seen
To quell the different clans

Lord help us if we got between
The Billies and the Dans

Then Johnny Cullen's single bills
Bob Fannan
' s yams to spin

Sir George McCallum's choral trill
And Jimmy The Reel's wee tin

A sp l ash in our canal one day

A man slipped off the path

I t 's only Cola Dan they say

I t' s just his annua l bath

The Pie shop down Dundyvan stood
The Mecca of the dance

Where young ones in r omant i c mood
Were wont to birl and
p rance

The polis always at the door

The wains keek thro a seam

The bouncing floor complaining sore
The p
l ace all smo k e an d steam

We watc h ed t h e BBs pic t ure screen
A
n d puffed our wee Woodbine

Our Wor l d was t hen the Fiddler ' s green
The lo
c hs and p u ggy line

On New Year's Day a big steak pie
The Band marched down the street
We stil
l reca l l those days gone by
When old time pals we meet

By fate's dec r ee our Langloan Lum
Made now the tale to tell

As stem command the end had come
In rumbl
in g blast it fell

No more to stand su b dued b y none
And gently scan the town

No more supreme in setting sun
Times had brought it down

Douglas Longmuir

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