In her storytelling workshop sessions with the Primary Schools involved in the Clachan Project, Liz encouraged the children to compose a ‘group’ poem.
After discussion of what life was like in ‘olden days’ the following was composed:
All In a Day’s Work
by St. Patrick’s PS, Glenariff
The rooster crows on the strainer
The work starts right away
Lumpy porridge on the hearth
The beginning of every day
Freezin’ coul, teeth-a-chatter
Pulling on a ragged coat
There’s hens to feed, there’s cows to milk
And stale bread for the goat.
The dawn is breaking, the wind howls loud
A shiver goes down my back;
Two hours work before school time
Potatoes in a sack.
In granda’s time his life was harsh
I’m glad I wasn’t there;
But yet those were happy times
For everyone to share.
Naturally enough children are fascinated by tales of school days long ago and had many tales to tell culled from parents and grandparents. The prevalence of corporal punishment was a recurring theme which inspired the next two poems:
SCHOOL IN THE OLD DAYS
By St. John’s PS Carnlough
Dilly dallying along the way
Off we go to school.
Our clothes were ragged, our feet were bare
But we knew all the rules.
Teacher stands there, small and cross
She waits for us each day
Sums and spellings, tables and tunes
Before we get out to play.
Marbles, hopscotch, skipping too
We have a lot of fun;
Rounders, donkey, tippy tig
Whether its rain or sun
Slapped for spellings, slapped for sums
Ink spills or giving cheek;
Sally rod swings down on us
Twenty times a week
The school bell rings
Its time to go
We gladly go back home
No cane, no shouting, just more work
A soda farl, home sweet home
I'M SORRY
By Glenann PSFeeling very scared
I’m sorry I talked
I’m sorry I’m late
I’m sorry I got my sums wrong
I’m sorry I made a mistake in my spellings
I’m sorry I disobeyed
I’m sorry I was caught
Angry face
Loud voice
Swish of the sally rod
WHACK!
Many of the clachans visited by the schools are now deserted and forlorn places. This may have coloured their thoughts on deserted homesteads:
The Old House
By Carnlough Integrated PS
Stiff gate slowly opens
Thatched roof fallen in
Ripped curtains flapping over broken panes
A wooden door with no handle creaks.
Rats scuttling over the creaky floor
Spiders dangle from webs
A three legged chair,
Smashed plates,
Rusty pots on the cold fire,
Dark and creepy, scary feelings.
The Old House
By St. Patrick’s PS Glenariff
Sad and empty
Laughter and tears gone away
The house is lonely
Nothing to say
The door is locked
Windows broken
The curtains in rags
Broken dishes
Creaking floors
Flapping turf bags
A rusty lock on the door
The Glens of Antrim abound with myth and legend, ghost and fairy stories, Every child had their own family experience of misfortune when ‘skeag’ bushes or ‘fairy-thorns’ were meddled with. There is an enduring fascination about local ‘ghosts’ which can be found in these:
Impressions of Bonamargy
by St. Patrick’s And St. Brigid’s PS Ballycastle
Blood freezes
Hair turns white
A numb feeling
Tingling shivers down the spine
Fallen dry stone walls
Echoing footsteps, tilted gravestones
Heart skips a beat
Black Nun glides softly by
THE MIDNIGHT STROLL
By ARMOY PS
Creaking floors
Footsteps in the dark
A creepy crypt
A low moaning
A high pitched scream
A cold draught
The rattle of chains
A clip of horses’ hooves
A knock at the window
A banging door
Shattered glass
Weird laughter on the stone stairs
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