There were times when Hamilton’s treatment of there own
was not always the best this poems tries to talk to that from my memories.
Aye Earnock Raws jist stie awa
don’t go doon thair tae plae at fitba.
Ye ken it’s ruff bit thae dinnae know
it’s noa a plaice whaur ye shud go.
Thi hing ower the railins an shoutin
thir washin aye wis luks loupin.
Thirs mony a durty wee face thair
his nivir seen baths up thae stairs.
Bit thi Raws had thi same as any street
some wir thi best o’ folk yi cud meet.
The Raws an Jungle an ower Whitehill
the folks wi cash gave us luks tha wud kill.
In fur joabs or jist in tae borrow
yir address wid mak thair brow furrow.
Thaed hum an thaed haw sayn naethin at awe
faces screwed up as at jumpers thae claw.
Sum hae gone an moved tae new plaices
livin aside thae auld screwed up faces.
Disnae matter ataw it’s a hoose or a haw
wir aw part o’ thi same Human Races.
The above poem was written for Historic Hamilton by Kit Duddy.