On Tuesday night Rab Wilson and I went to Kirkconnel for the celebration of the opening of the specially commissioned St Conal’s Square Public Art Project
Artists Jim Buchanan and Emma Varley had been commissioned, through DGAA and Dumfries and Galloway Housing Partnership to do a landscaping project for a new square of houses.
For an evening that was supposed to be a to celebrate a visual arts project it became remarkably literary one.
The two artists Jim and Emma through their research had uncovered Kirkconnel’s own forgotten poet – Alexander Anderson and had incorporated quotes from his poetry as text pieces for the walls.
Rab had been asked to give an address about Anderson at the event.
He gave a succinct and illuminating account of Anderson’s unusual life. Rab told us with great warmth that Anderson was born in the 19th Century in Kirkconnel and had become a Railway Surfaceman on leaving school. A Surfaceman was someone who maintains the railway tracks and track bed.
He was a self taught poet, using all his spare time to read the classics and poets such as Shelley and Keats. He also learnt enough of European languages so that he could read their masterpieces, such as Racine in their own languages.
In 1870 he began to submit poems to the Peoples Friend. His first collection was published in 1873, “A Song of Labour and Other Poems. He also published collections entitled “Songs of the Rails 1878, and “Ballads and sonnets” in 1879.
In 1880 he left Kirkconnel to become Assistant Librarian at Edinburgh University, finally to become Chief Librarian, a post he held until his death in 1909. After becoming the Librarian he didn’t publish any more collections but he did continue to submit poems to newspapers and journals.
Rab said that he had a unique quality in his poetry that reminded anyone from the area of home. He also said that Anderson never forgot Kirkconnel or his deep love of it. He told a lovely anecdote of an eminent Edinburgh gentleman bumping into Anderson one day in Edinburgh and was surprised to see him not wearing his Library Frock coat. Indeed Anderson was wearing an old tweed jacket and a bonnet and his face was wreathed in smiles, the eminent gentleman was slightly startled and asked him how he was, Anderson relied with a beaming smile and said “I’m going on my holidays, I’m going to Kirkconnel.
Apparently when he talked about Kirkconnel it was like Leonardo talking about painting.
Rab said that it was time to reappraise Anderson’s place in Scottish literature and said that part of Anderson’s obscurity was because DC Thompson had held the copyright to his literary estate and they had never been keen to let anyone tamper with the work. As the work is now out of copyright, the time is right to bring Kirkconnel's poet out of the literary shadows.
Here is a poem by Alexander Anderson about the problems - and the pleasures - of trying to get lively children to settle down to sleep.
Cuddle Doon
The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi muckle faught and din.
"Oh try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues,
Your faither's comin' in."
They niver heed a word I speak,
I try tae gie a froon,
But aye I hap' them up an' cry
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid,
He aye sleeps next the wa'
Bangs up and cries, "I want a piece!"
The rascal starts them a'.
I rin and fetch them pieces, drinks,
They stop a wee the soun',
Then draw the blankets up an' cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon."
But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot frae neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at aince,
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."
The mischief in that Tam for tricks,
He'd bother half the toon,
But aye I hap them up an' cry,
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
At length they hear their faither's fit
An' as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces tae the wa'
An Tam pretends tae snore.
"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks,
As he pits aff his shoon.
"The bairnies, John, are in their beds
An' lang since cuddled doon!"
An' just afore we bed oorsel's
We look at oor wee lambs,
Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck
An Rab his airm roun' Tam's.
I lift wee Jamie up the bed
An as I straik each croon,
I whisper till my heart fills up:
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear tae me.
But soon the big warl's cark an' care
Will quiten doon their glee.
Yet come what will to ilka ane,
May He who rules aboon,
Aye whisper, though their pows be bald:
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
Artists Jim Buchanan and Emma Varley had been commissioned, through DGAA and Dumfries and Galloway Housing Partnership to do a landscaping project for a new square of houses.
For an evening that was supposed to be a to celebrate a visual arts project it became remarkably literary one.
The two artists Jim and Emma through their research had uncovered Kirkconnel’s own forgotten poet – Alexander Anderson and had incorporated quotes from his poetry as text pieces for the walls.
Rab had been asked to give an address about Anderson at the event.
He gave a succinct and illuminating account of Anderson’s unusual life. Rab told us with great warmth that Anderson was born in the 19th Century in Kirkconnel and had become a Railway Surfaceman on leaving school. A Surfaceman was someone who maintains the railway tracks and track bed.
He was a self taught poet, using all his spare time to read the classics and poets such as Shelley and Keats. He also learnt enough of European languages so that he could read their masterpieces, such as Racine in their own languages.
In 1870 he began to submit poems to the Peoples Friend. His first collection was published in 1873, “A Song of Labour and Other Poems. He also published collections entitled “Songs of the Rails 1878, and “Ballads and sonnets” in 1879.
In 1880 he left Kirkconnel to become Assistant Librarian at Edinburgh University, finally to become Chief Librarian, a post he held until his death in 1909. After becoming the Librarian he didn’t publish any more collections but he did continue to submit poems to newspapers and journals.
Rab said that he had a unique quality in his poetry that reminded anyone from the area of home. He also said that Anderson never forgot Kirkconnel or his deep love of it. He told a lovely anecdote of an eminent Edinburgh gentleman bumping into Anderson one day in Edinburgh and was surprised to see him not wearing his Library Frock coat. Indeed Anderson was wearing an old tweed jacket and a bonnet and his face was wreathed in smiles, the eminent gentleman was slightly startled and asked him how he was, Anderson relied with a beaming smile and said “I’m going on my holidays, I’m going to Kirkconnel.
Apparently when he talked about Kirkconnel it was like Leonardo talking about painting.
Rab said that it was time to reappraise Anderson’s place in Scottish literature and said that part of Anderson’s obscurity was because DC Thompson had held the copyright to his literary estate and they had never been keen to let anyone tamper with the work. As the work is now out of copyright, the time is right to bring Kirkconnel's poet out of the literary shadows.
Here is a poem by Alexander Anderson about the problems - and the pleasures - of trying to get lively children to settle down to sleep.
Cuddle Doon
The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi muckle faught and din.
"Oh try an' sleep, ye waukrife rogues,
Your faither's comin' in."
They niver heed a word I speak,
I try tae gie a froon,
But aye I hap' them up an' cry
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
Wee Jamie wi' the curly heid,
He aye sleeps next the wa'
Bangs up and cries, "I want a piece!"
The rascal starts them a'.
I rin and fetch them pieces, drinks,
They stop a wee the soun',
Then draw the blankets up an' cry,
"Noo, weanies, cuddle doon."
But ere five minutes gang, wee Rab
Cries oot frae neath the claes,
"Mither, mak' Tam gie ower at aince,
He's kittlin' wi' his taes."
The mischief in that Tam for tricks,
He'd bother half the toon,
But aye I hap them up an' cry,
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
At length they hear their faither's fit
An' as he steeks the door,
They turn their faces tae the wa'
An Tam pretends tae snore.
"Hae a' the weans been gude?" he asks,
As he pits aff his shoon.
"The bairnies, John, are in their beds
An' lang since cuddled doon!"
An' just afore we bed oorsel's
We look at oor wee lambs,
Tam has his airm roun' wee Rab's neck
An Rab his airm roun' Tam's.
I lift wee Jamie up the bed
An as I straik each croon,
I whisper till my heart fills up:
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
The bairnies cuddle doon at nicht
Wi' mirth that's dear tae me.
But soon the big warl's cark an' care
Will quiten doon their glee.
Yet come what will to ilka ane,
May He who rules aboon,
Aye whisper, though their pows be bald:
"Oh, bairnies, cuddle doon!"
