Find of the Week (6)

The ceilings been painted and the lighting has been upgraded but that doesn’t stop us from bumping into desks. Near the back of the basement we have a desk full of donated material needing catalogued and preserved. One stack had a resemblance to the Torre pendente di Pisa, until about 4pm on Friday. That is until it all came tumbling down. I’m sure on Monday several hours will be spent sorting the materials and trying to assign ownership to some. This minor calamity led to the next find of the week, a small book of poetry by Mrs. C Campbell, a Dumbarton woman.

Mrs. Campbell was born in Alexandria, Dumbartonshire, in 1844, the daughter of a highly respected cooper. Mrs. Campbell moved to the nearby town of Dumbarton upon her marriage to Mr. Campbell. She began writing poetry at the age of 13 and wrote throughout her life. Mrs. Campbell’s poetry was featured in the Dumbarton Herald until her death in 1906, Donald McLeod a local historian and president of the Burns Club wrote the introduction/dedication to Mrs. Campbell’s book. In total thirty five poems are contained in the small volume, it’s bound in red leather and published by McNaughtan & Sinclair, Glasgow. I’ve enjoyed reading them all over the weekend, particularly her advice on marriage, the death of her dog, the changing of seasons and a particularly bad winter in 1895.
There are many of the poems I could add here but I’ve chosen ‘wee jenny’. The portrayal of Jenny by  Mrs. Campbell  is amusing. The poem is littered slightly with old Scots dialect :

wee jenny

To me wee Jenny's blithe and sweet,
I like tae hear her wee bit feet
Toddlin' oot an toddlin' in ;
I like tae hear her try and sing,
She does her best tae please us a',
But Jenny canna sing ava'.
Her little tale she tells in glee,
A' thochts and things she speirs at me;
And a'e thing Jenny likes tae ken,
Is when the pay-day, comes again;
Then will I get a ha'penny, maw?
And gang tae Jeanie's for a draw?
Yes, Jenny, that you'll sharely get;
Well, maw, you'll mind and no forget,
For Jeanie has long farthing stocks,
She's blue and yellow sugar rock,
She's sugar men and ladies tae,
I saw them a' this very day.
Oh ! Jenny bairnie, say nae mair,
Just gang and get yer ain wee chair,
And tak' yer dolly on yer knee,
And gie me peace jist for a wee.
So Jenny, laughing, gangs awa',
She gets her doll and chair an' a',
Her ain wee stool's turned upside doon,
And dolly's washed frae tae t' croon,
It's cuddled in her bosom sweet,
And then laid cosy doon tae sleep.
Oh, happy bairn, and fu' o' glee,
The warl' has got nae care for thee,
Ye dance and loup frae morn till noon,
Till soothing sleep comes creeping roon'.
Then in his arms my bairn lies doon,
And when she on her pillow lies
And sleep has firmly sealed her eyes,
I gaze into her sweet wee face,
Where sorrow yet has left nae trace,
She's innocence frae head tae feet,
She's a' tae me that's pure and sweet.