Tha Big Stane

Fur thon o’ ye’s no sae familiar wae tha Ards, tha big stane lees oan tha shore o’ Strangford Lough twathry mile fae tha Flood Gates. Ay, A hae mine o’ passin it ivery Saturday oan  ma wye intae Newton tae pick up oor weekly ration o’ soda bried an proota-oaten farls fae tha Brides Parlour. A aye thocht it fittin that this reminder o’ nature’s pooer haed a wee bible verse scrieved oan the side o’ it. A tradition whuch A’m gled tae say is still carriet oan tae this day. Hooaniver no ivery yin that went fur a danner tae tha big stane wus thur fur religious instruction, it wud seem that it wus a popular coortin spot forbye, specially fur thon ‘born in aul Newton not far from the Bowton’ es ye can fin oot fur yersels alow.

Images obtained from - Newtownards a pictorial history

The Big Stane

I was born in aul Newtown not far from the Bowtown

The first sound I heard was Walkers aul horn

Me Ma rocked the cradle, me Da played the fiddle

And I sucked a bottle of John Barley Corn.

I can still hear the laughter of the kaliman after

I still feel delight at the sound of her name

At the first kiss she gave me nothing could save me

She kissed me at the bottom of the aul dummies lane.

While walking for pleasure one fine summers evening

I met with my true love down by the big stane

We fell into courtin while gathering cockles

Now cockles and courtin can be a rough game

As the shadow of sunlight began to get dimmer

I felt a bit rough round by the big stane

Now sands good for building but no good for courtin

So stay on the grass when you are at the big stane

The days they got shorter and my love got bigger

Her Da got crosser and I got the blame

A shotgun was loaded and nearly exploded

You’ll pay for your courtin down by the big stane

One merry spring mornin our wedding was dawning

We met at the Church in the aul dummies lane

Her Ma she was cryin her Da he was cursin

And my son was born before we got hame.

He was born in aul Newtown not far from the Bowtown

The first sound I heard was Walkers aul horn

Now she rocks the cradle and I play the fiddle

And he sucks a bottle of John Barley Corn.

And he sucks a bottle of John Barley Corn.

My thanks to Mark Anderson for his contribution to this posting

Hame Again - Oor ain apples

Several weeks ago I was fortunate to be part of the Loughries Ulster Scots Trip or 'A Forenoon Doon the Upper Ards', (clydesburn.blogspot.) hosted by the Twa Marks. Although, because of the persistent rain that day, Mark Thompson (our guide) later dubbed it "A Forenoon gettin droont in the Upper Ards". 

Ecklinville Apple Tree back in Ulster 

One of the more obscure pieces of information we received that day was the story of the Ecklinville or (as Mark called it the) Ulster-Scots Apple.
The following extract is from the 'Bloggin fae the Burn' article entitled Scottish Bishops and Ulster-Scots apples


On 4 March 1613 Robert Echlin from Pittadro in Fife was appointed by King James I as the new Bishop of Down and Connor. Echlin (initially at least) tolerated the arrival of the Presbyterians and compromised with them in order to ordain them into service in Ulster. Echlin set up home at Ardquin (between Portaferry and Kircubbin - it is said he chose the location because it reminded him of the landscape of Fife) and built an Abbacy there beside the old church.
It is in this location that some of Echlin's descendants who remained on the Ards Peninsula invented the Echlinville / Ecklinville cooking apple. The description of the variety is:

"...the tree is vigorous and has decorative blossom. It is a cooker or sauce apple. It was popular with the Victorians and widely grown in gardens also recommended for an 'artistic' orchard...."

Daniel's Ulster-Scots Apple Tree

The Ecklinville cooking apple, once popular around County Down, all but disappeared by the 1930s. as it had become unfashionable when new varieties, that didn't bruise so easily, were introduced into the province. 
This research got me thinking about this small but unique part of our heritage. Determined to bring it hame I searched the Internet and eventually found Ecklinville seedlings at a fruit tree nursery on the Isle of White (Deacon's Nursery). The owner was extremely helpful and dispatched five 1st year seedlings which I distributed to a handful of Ulster-Scots patriots in Down and Londonderry (The Twa Marks included). So yince mere wae hae Ulster-Scots apples in oor hames'. (well not quite yet)

Octh ava - Nane ava

Yin thing aftin leads tae anither. The ither nicth ma mither wus axt whut she'd like wae her tay. She replied o octh ava (anything at all). 
As sin as she'd said it I hae'd mind o' an oul rhyme ma da ust tae say aboot tha Greba (Greyabbey) lasses.

Wha saw tha Greba lasses,
Wha saw them gan awa,
Wha saw the Greba lasses,
Ganin doon tha Hard Breid Raa.
Some o thaim haed buits and stockins,
Some o thaim haed nane ava.
Some o thaim haed big bare arses,
Ganin doon tha Hard Breid Raa.

Jean Weir (88 years of age) reciting a poem she learned at a young age "The Greba Lasses".
*This excellent recital by a by Jean Weir comes from GinaCully1990 on Youtube

Yin I dinnae know

An guid freen o mine axt me tha nicth did I know oucth aboot Balbriggan, tha auld name fur Ballyfrenis.  An I wus able tae direct him tae tha work o a much wiser man than masel.
How an niver it brocth tae mind an aul sayin that I herd years ago.

Come in Balbriggan I know yer knock.

I hinnae a clue aboot wut it means or whur its fae. If oniebodie oot there knows onithin aboot it. I wud be gye glad tae hear fae ye.