James Mcbey (Ballad) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

James McBey (1883-1959)
His ma wis unmerriet, a blacksmith's young dother
Newburgh, unwinted, wis far he wis born
He'd tae caa his ma Annie. Ignored bi his faither
In puirtith an wint, a wee laddie, forelorn

His Granny Gillespie wis couthie an carin
The auld woman lued him, sae lang tenderly
Aged fowerteen the family meeved intae the city
Jeems wis a bank clerk, breidwinner fur three

His mither grew blin…still uncarinas iver
Ae nicht he cam hame tae his cauldrife address
Annie hid hinged herself, Jeemes cuther doon
A bobby made siccar twis kept frae the press

Frae the Aiberdeen librar he wyled oot a buikie
On etchin- syne listed at Grays Schule o Art
In the evenins, bi daytime, aye tcyauvin at bankin
For Granny Gillespie, his rock frae the start

His life wis his etchins.. self -larned as an artist
Exhibitin far he could, traivellin tae France
In his free time he prentit bi usin a mangle
He grew better kent…twis the stuff o romaunce

Puir eesicht meant he cudna list as a sodjer
He wis a war artist (lieutenant commission)
Frae Palestine, Gaza, Sinai an Damascus
Wi the camel corp on reconnaissance mission

He peintit a portraito Sir Harry Lauder
An Lawrence o Arabie, taen frae the flesh
He tuik as a wife an American lassie
They whyles bedd in Tangier an whyles Marrakesh

His wirk is in London, in Boston an Aiberdeen
Washington, Huntington Librar as weel
Fur a faitherless loon fa wis born intae poverty
Hard wis the sowin, bit fruitful the dreel