Biography of archie hardie
I was a wee bit of a hell raiser in my teens, twenties, and thirties, in other words, a bevvy merchant.thankfully I saw the light and reformed on the last friday of march,1985. Thats when i went to the a.a. meeting in Albin House, Cavendish St. Glas. G5. I am retired chef, having served my time with John Grant, (wine @ food) , I`ve done season jobs, worked in Manchester, Blackpool, London, Oz, Florida, New Hamps.,2nd cook and baker on the weather ships, chief cook on the research ships, , altogether 25 yers at sea and loved every minute, especially the tankers.I`ve had a few poems published but that was with random press, a more or less vanity pub.. I`ve got a few short short stories and have been thinking of putting them together, along with a few poems, and see if I can get them published as a paperback, maybe with Lulu.
archie hardie Poems
My My, Who Gave That Dummy A Dictionary
My my my, `pon my soul! Mr. Oliver Hamshanky, sometimes, exclaimed, to no one in particular. An` why did he exclaim, 'my my my, pon my soul, '
Much Ado About Nowt
In olden days, them golden days, when Shaky were just a pup, as he walked the mean streets just who should he meet,
The Lonely Wanderer Meets The Scottish W...
He wandered lonely as a cloud, then suddenly stopped to stand and stare cos, golly gee! he`d become aware that both his shoe laces were undone,
Growing Old (Even Better, Edited)
Oh woe! oh woe! this growing old, tis making my life a toil. From six foot three at twenty one, I`m down to four foot nought at sixty.
An Absolutely Mental Market Place.
The hubhub, laughter and chatter, reminiscent of an indian market, suddenly, fell silent,
Think On This And Weep.
Think on this and weep. Sad sadie had a hard hard life. Her heart, once filled with joy,
Life Is Hell, The Sooner Its Finished Th...
My how I wish I wasn`t growing old, cos me bones all ache and I surely feels the cold. wheres me goddam glasses? there on top of your stupid head, an` your bloody woollen nighty! is underneath the bed.
The Trenches, Not So Fondly Remembered.
Wwhen cold November blows it`s bitter deadly breath, ah`m back wi` ma mates, ma comrades in arms knee deep in a stinkin` french trench. Aye, there was Stewart McGregor, an Wullie McTurk,
Better Red Than Dead.13/02/01
'Whats the plan for today my own true love, what mighty event must I fix.' 'You`ve a meet with Banjo, Shoreboys an` Peel,
A 2nd Bloosy Downbeat Autumn.
Autumn, and plastic packets dance, on a brewery scented breeze. brightly coloured carrier bags decorate leafless trees a bubbling nogood fridge, is rusting, in a sulphurous yellow creek and blackbags full of garbage gas,
Think On This And Weep.
Think on this and weep.
Sad sadie had a hard hard life.
Her heart, once filled with joy,
when she`d married her golden boy,
was soon broken assunder
when she`d viewed her blunder,
amid the cold morning ashes,