Flowing to a land of peace We watch her gentle stream Old Churches, schools ravished by time Reflect her gentle beams. Starry nights and sun-filled days Upon her granite poised Where children played upon the bridge O´er shadowed now with noise. Yet peace she brings with every stone Where faltering birds do nest And otters with their children come To take their peace and rest. In her divine appointed flow Fear leaves no saddened thoughts For change is named upon her brow With no heightened sense of loss. And by her banks sweet angels flow Attending to their wards while we stand upon the bridge alone With only darker thoughts. Yet sweet repose and Love are here For all who hear her song Far away from bills to pay And every sense of wrong. Her gentle flowing higher streams Do guide us in our thoughts to a peaceful place of mind flowing o´er the darker rocks. ´Tis good for us to stop and hear Her gentle peaceful flow While Angels pass with quieter thoughts Allowing us to grow.
The bing was a huge mound of gravel and stone which was left there after the housing estate was built in the 1950s. It was replaced with a kids play area in the 1980s. The other Warriors bing in the Largs Hills was presumably called that because of where the Battle of Largs took place,
O the years upon the bing, with cousin Margaret children played,
Climbing up with all our power by Newhouse drive where people stayed,
Amid the thorns and grey cement there seemed a moment, time well spent,
And sliding down the gravel slope, I skinned my knees without a hope,
My grannie waiting at the door, with borax, plasters by the score.
O the hills we thought were steep, when now an older life we keep,
Mountains, slopes upon our minds, perhaps a bing of different kind,
Climbing o’er our darker thoughts, just like the thistles we did trod,
Lessons from the bing well learnt, of my granny’s soothing balm
O how that Love returns to me, and brings with it a sense of calm,
And behind the trees sat Warrior’s bing, perhaps a sign of future years,
With bigger slopes and hills to climb amid the darker fading years.
In every year thats passes by, there’s friends from overseas, visiting a little town with dreams of family.
Perhaps Place castle some will say, or found in Walker Hall, perhaps a line of great descent, behind Tianna Falls.
Walking streets which long since gone, with hopes of names or face, wearily they pace around to find the slightest trace.
And when we ask about the task, the answer’s never clear, identity or Grandpa’s home or memories they hold dear.
Still there is a waiting wealth, which passed through every line, a joyful welcome and a smile to all who take the time.
And legacies of golden bowls surrendered long ago, exchanged for joy preserved in time, for future folk to know.
Heirs of joy, and stewardship still, which lasts beyond our peers, kindness, smiles remembered still throughout the passing years.
If today a search does come to wanton lonely minds, think not of watches or old clocks to search for back in time.
Instead to know their sense of joy, is shared today by all, a random act of kindness do, instead of searching halls.
For welcome, joy and happiness was theirs and ours today, there is no forgetting acts of Love which fall on minds today.
Make your mark for future lines, by random acts of good, remembered more by other folk than silver, gold or wood.
(John 5: The Pool of Bethesda)
An angel clad in white winged robes with hands upon the pool
A surge of water gushes forth, clear, transparent, cool
Children watch upon the bridge with raincoats, darkened caps
My mother calls me not to fear, the bridge’s missing slats
Like needles dropping in the stream, rain pierces to the ground
Raising thoughts in Children’ s minds with every plopping sound
And as the Angel, golf course walks, the clouds clear with his step
Revealing brighter thoughts for man with every place he treads
By Crawfurd’s castle, blue skies clear and children move away
Their raincoats filled with water still seem strange in Summer’s days
Shadows clear upon the fields and hope again appears
Within the showers, sunny glades where man has nought to fear
Long after Angels hands descend or sun upon Man’s dreams
Still the pool, it gushes forth pushing all upstream
And on the Minds of local men an Angel dares to tread
Stirring healing loving thoughts upon the dying bed.
Just like the rain on Garnock stream or dew on May’s fair morn
Or upon the Spider web in tombstones left forlorn
A gentle power of Love does fall on mills in Knoxville Road
And seen upon the smiling face of babes in their abode
Or random acts of kindness shown in finding mobile phones
Or helping older people walk on ice on Milton Road
Or in the eyes of little deer which run through open fields
In steel work sheds with gypsies´ beds and talks of business deals
Through different cables power runs to light the darker nights
Through different folk a gentle love expresses its own light
In every man a power shines from Place to Ladeside vale
Reflecting joy with sweet accord o’er mountain hill and dale