Innerleithen Nightlife
The nicht is dark, the moons no oot,
Dark clad men are gaun aboot:
On the waterside by yon boat pool
Hearts beat fast, but nerves are cool.
The nets in place, held by its stake
And in deep water nae ripples make
They leave it noo an oor or two,
When they gaun back they hope its fu’
On the brig a car slows doon and stops
They stan’ still, could be the cops
Watch yer feet, dinna brek a twig
When the car moves off, then they can jig.
Come on then lads, pick up yer lamp
Am gettin’ cauld, ma breeks are damp
This late nicht work is takin’ toll
Its jist as weel they’re on the dole.
They hae a van that’s big an’ blue,
When the polis stop them, they dinna stew
For they ken fu’ weel its jist a teaser
The fish are safely in the freezer.
In every room and gairden shed
And even under the bairns bed
Wi’ yin guid catch they yais the bath
Ye can smell fish on the front fitpath
The days are gone when yin guid fish
Was mair than enough tae fill their dish
They’re no content wi’ a few tae sell
They must supply the best hotels
They think the sheriff court is guid
The’re only fined a few hundred quid
When they gan forth tae mak’ amend
They’ll earn it ower the next weekend
Noo there’s a van in yon big quarry
It micht e’en be a refrigerated lorry
The load made up wi’ fish, big an’ small
Nae sae bad for three weeks’ haul
Oot on the road they get movin’
Ower the border before mornin’
Yon M6 is sic a fast road,
Bit they tak’ care wi’ precious load
Back hame they keep a few tae smoke,
In the pub they sell them tae some bloke
Alas, they niver kent his name,
Guess what? They ne’er saw him again.
Noo tae end this tale it should be clear
That Innerleithen at this time o’ year
When lichts are bricht alang the street,
Welcomes its ane fishing fleet.
So, when folk move aboot at nicht
Don’t ask yersel’ – whats yon bricht licht
It’s jist the lads oot for tae coach
The younger generation how tae poach!
Ross McGinn – 1989
