The King Of Jackanory

The King Of Jackanory

This poem is about a day in my life as a child growing up in the Gorbals, "Glasgow". My mother was always tired as she worked so hard. I seemed to scamp of the family and forever around her feet. You would have to have eyes in the back of your head to keep up with me. I had such an imagination, I could turn my back yard into a wonderland, simply by using this imagination. Anyway this day I climbed my tree and then suddenly……………… Awe!


Footnotes :

Gutties -"Sand Shoes",
Skinted or Skint-"Bleeding "
Jackanory- "Someone always with a story to tell"
Midges- "Refuge bins or trash cans",
Flaxton Boy Shorts -"Big, baggy three quarter length shorts that itched"
Kipper - "Face"

The King Of Jackanory

Just out of the midges to climb my tree
I jump to grip the widest branch,
I swing myself with skinted knee
Flaxton boy shorts and gutties worn
The branches catching a shirt that's torn
, and a face as black as the night was born

With runny nose but healthy glow
, relentless to the summit
Upwards to seek the steeples limit
, this Knight in Shinning Armour
I leap and twist and pull then turn
,to perch myself on the highest stem
Where angels meet and rainbows end
, and gaze upon my meadow

A winters breeze to comb my hair
I wipe my nose to see what's where
The airs so fresh from the mist down there
This wondrous view of heathers dune
, as I ponder on all it's glory

I see a stag stand over a burn
It drinks it's full and too proud to run
While antlers glisten in waters reflection
It's eyes are watching my every intention

A field mouse scurries to get underground
, from the Sparrow Hawks eyes, and majestic sound
As it hovers around the mouse on the ground
The hawk swoops down with talons honed
The screech sends shivers to the bone
The mouse is gone as my stomach churned
Thank god he made it , but only just
As the hawk hits ground within the mist
It survived today but doesn't know
, the hawk has nowhere to go

I cheer the mouse and wipe my nose
By now I'm frozen ,to my toes
I survey my house , the ants are about
Here it comes , that familiar shout
Mothers eyes, like the hawk in flight
,has spotted her pray , with me in sight

."Get doon oot that tree,yer geeing me a fright! "
"Och look at me mum , I am alright "
"Aye ,look at ye, yer a sorry sight
Have you been in those middens again?"
"Aye mum , I was playing aboot."
"Playing aboot , yer covered in soot "

"Mum , I seen a moose, a stag , and an eagle"
" Oh aye , are you sure it wisna a seagull
, Probably a Jackdaw with a mooth like yours
Get over here and let me see
would you look at yer kipper, yer shirt and knee
Do you think money grows on that tree
Get up the stairs and wash yourself
Mind yer ears and everything else
And wash the tide mark off yer neck
Whit would the neighbours think
Get yer heed right under the sink
And don't come up until yer clean.
God almighty, yer a sight to be seen
Bin that shirt before your father gets hame
,or it will be me who gets the blame
I leave you for a minute, and you go insane
Sit on that chair and lift up yer knee"

Awe mum that's stinging me."
"Well think before you climb that tree.
Right , that's you better now, oot ma face
But before you go, give me a kiss
, and tell me my future, what's in store"

"Ach!, you'll be a Queen mum , that's for sure
, with a great big fridge and ice cream galore
And I'll be your King and guard the door "

"Aye , the King Of Jackanory"

Robert Anderson