— #1 Fishmarket
When I was a laddie I hae tae agree,
My mind was aye taen wi’ the things o’ the sea.
We lived in Newhaven in old times gone by,
And I aye went tae Mason’s tae buy a Scotch pie.
I’d walk doon the pier where ma face wis weel kent
By the auld men sitting there doon at Pier Parliament.
There were nae fancy benches, or ony such like –
They jist sat on a fish box in the lee o’ the dyke,
As I listened tae tales a’ wis aye sae inspired,
Aboot their days going tae sea afore they retired.
They were Listons and Rutherfords, Wilsons and all,
Davie Brand roon the Hally an’ ma pal Wattie Hall,
Birnie and Moody, and Eustace as well.
It wad tak a full book for their stories tae tell.
Frank Alexander, wha looked sae resplendent,
In charge o’ the market — the ‘Superintendent’.
In the 70s and 80s, it’s sad fer tae say,
That maist o’ they auld freends hae a’ passed away,
But many continued an’ each yin wis fair,
And they let Benny Kemp sit doon on a chair.
There wis Bulky and Woody, and Pete wi’ the stick,
And auld Gavin Swanson frae Thurso or Wick.
All fine ancient worthies wha made up the group,
Bob Hannah, George Barnett and auld Jimmy Troup.
Then they pulled doon the hooses whaur they aw use tae sit,
An’ the people frae Parliament near aw had tae flit.
Noo there’s fine wooden benches that dae very well,
Fir a group o’ auld worthies wi’ mair tales tae tell.
But it’s sad tae report ah wiz doon there last year,
An a sat oan the bench at the heid o’ the pier
But there wiz never a sight or a sound frae the past,
So it looks like the Parliament’s finished at last.
Noo a hope thit am wrong, they might rake through the embers
An’ maybe come up wi’ a dozen new members.
Hands and knees
Watson the Prophet
Hans Me Danse
Big Tam Backends