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Ah remember the Blantir, where a yist tae bide,
cloases wi stairs up, where a wean could hide.

Coal cellars oot the back, aw in a row,
the midden at the end, where yer telt, no tae go.

An there wis the washoose, the pride o' the place,
we weans played in the biler, oan hoat summer days.

The park acroas the road wis wance foo o coos,
noo it's goat hooses, gairdens an doos.

Wance thir wur shoaps aw alang the main street,
noo there's jist Asda, it wid make ye greet.

An there wis the park we saw bilt oot o ashes,
wis wance a great place fur the boys an the lassies.

We went tae the Co Gala, an we follied the bawn,
oor tinnies taped up an oor tickets in in oor hawn.

In summer we went up the Cawther or doon the Clyde braes,
ye jist wore yer sannies an hid oan yer auld claes.

Noo there's no much ye can dae in Blantir at aw,
there's no even the Dookit or the Broadway Pictire Hawl.

There's nae Parish Buildin' an nae Kellies Corner
Auchinraith Road's there bit the Buggy Buildin's nae longer.

Nae Nessies school, nae Co-op or Hill's Pawn
jist like the Blantir Gazette, thur aw gawn.

Naw Blantir's no Blantir, it's no the same noo,
bit ave goat ma dreams a mibbe you hiv too.

Am still here in Blantir an although it's no the same,
nae matter where I go, it's tae Blantir a come hame.

Helen McKenzie Connor