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The Old Whifflet  

Douglas Longmuir

Whifflet was originally known as wheat flats but through time the name appears to have developed into Wheeflet then Whifflet.

Now most of us were local born

When Whifflet was a place

Were everyone was known to all 

And each a well known face 

Tho' many changes we have seen

Fond memories still remain

Of dear old landmarks, folks and things

We'll never see again.  


When anything was wrong with us 

The local doc was summoned 

McPhail, he was the doctor then

After him came Drummond and Goldie

McNab's the Chemist Corner Shop

Supplied all the kinds of potions

To cure our ills with wonder pills 

And many magic lotions.


You went to buy a postage stamp

Miss Whitehouse was the face 

One look from her was quite enough   

To put you in your place

And yonder, dear Old Whifflet Brig   

Where hundreds crossed each day. 

The London trains went fleein' past  

And whistling on their way. 


McGillvery had the corner pub 

Where men went for a hauf  

And them that had a gaffer's joab

Were looked on as a toff  

Wee Buts and Bens and single ends   

And Jeanie Reevie's store

For purns O' thread and potted heid

And nicks and knacks galore 


McMillian's Pawn shop proudly stood

In front of Watson's land

With watches, jugs and wally dugs

And Johnny Iron's cobbler shop

A landmark in the street

He saved our soles,

When full of holes

And put us on our feet.


And Andrew Hutton butcher's cairt

Was often seen around

And Maggie Farquhar sold her plums

At sixpence a pound

Then Davie Irvine tattie scones

Were bought in big supplies

And Ferguson's were famed afar

For their big juicy pies


We'd Graham the plumber down the road

And Grocers William Low 

At the number three, the wee men met 

And blethered in the Co

And Johnnie's, Chip shop, what a taste

The fish was aye a whupper

We smacked our lips, in blissful joy

And scoffed a big fish supper.


The Garden picture house was there

We queued up at the door 

Then big fag ends and orange peel

Would decorate the floor

And each enthralling episode

We followed in our time

From Chaplin down to Rin Tin Tin

We thought they were sublime.


In winter days, when fires were low

A voice that pleased our soul

Was Wullie Nicol with his cairt

Loudly shouting coal.

They say a big tree blossomed here

A landmark from afar

It is still a haven going strong

The Famous big tree bar.


The flocks attended Gibson's church

Saint Mary's and Garturk

To sing his praise in many ways

And do their Christian work

The scenes and sounds once more among

Old Whifflet’s loyal friends

With these words I bid goodbye

And now my poem ends.


by Douglas Longmuir

Supplied by Art McGivern


Whifflet Photos - from John White Collection - click to expand!!




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