This moving poem from Charlie Gillen from Dervock will touch many a heart as he explores in his native Ulster-Scots tongue the universal challenges of becoming a man.

Niver loass hairt

Mae fether dee’t whun I wus ten, I dinnae unnerstan’,
It was young tae be a wain nae mair, an hard tae be a man
I dinnae know hoo much I loast, I mebbae dinnae still,
But life for me for mony years, gane steady doon the hill.

Fae mad tae sane a wheen o’years a totter’t on the brink,
At fifteen years I got a job an’ loast maesel tae drink,
Aw! Naw nae social drinker me, I hid maesel away
An in the courage drink afford’t I got by day by day.

Sae I drunk tae dull mae senses, an I drunk tae bring me roon,
An’ whut I coodnae see aff coorse, it was masel that I lut doon,
An whuniver I was drunk eneuch, I cud neither see nor feel
Ab whuniver I was sober, the worl was hard an real.

I feel’t the hale thing closin’ in I had loast anither fight
My wurl was lake a tunnel but at the en’ there wus nae light,
Then yin nicht as I lay stupid drunk, bereft o’ even hope,
Naw a threed tae cling tae as a’l aroon I grope’t.

Some’dy caught mae slidin ‘ as I near’t the gates o’ hell,
I think it wus mae fether, but I coodnae really tell,
That vision shuk mae, waken’t me an’ an tuk me by the han,
“Come on an mak mae proud o’ ye, come on an be a man.”

Fae that tae this I tried mae best, aye, mony times I slipp’t
But that erm the led mae bak tae life, wud catch mae whun I tripp’t
An’ I someway know  whun I was wrang, he’ll be there tae put mae richt
An if I’m in the tunnel noo, at the en’ o’t is a licht.

Sae I write mae rhymes o’ ouler times, whun he left mae here at ten,
An whiles I think mae fether is steerin’ thon oul pen,
An whether I mak ye lach or greet, I want tae mak ye think,
That some’dy oot there loves ye, nae odds hoo low ye sink.

© Charlie Gillen and The Ulster-Scots Language Society