Merch o the Baby-Boomers

We toddlt through the fifties as the Iron Curtain closed
We jined the Brownies an the Boays Brigade.
On orange juice, cod liver oil we blossomed like a rose
In the shadda o the Bomb we laughed an played.
The parent generation disapproved o confrontation
Boays’ herr wis docked; the lassies’ dresses lang;
Wur uncles oan their call-up aw turnt oot fur parade
While wi Andy Stewart an Cliff we sang alang.
Woooo– -wooo- — wooo
Even then there wis the stert
Wind o chinge, turnin tide
Unanswert questions, rebel hert
Burnin feelin deep inside
We wid overcome some day.
We demonstratit through the sixties, chantit Ban the Bomb
Smoke rings oan the paths o peace arose.
Wi Che Guevara leadin us we aw wid overcome
Cheerin oan the Glesca Eskimos.
An loads o us maintained Jack Kennedy wis tae blame
Sae oot we cam against wur Uncle Sam.
Hey, hey, LBJ: accused an shamed by name
The pair wee murdert weans o Vietnam.
Wi Beatles, Kinks an Rollin Stones the trendies grooved alang
Wi psychedelic strobe lights gien it laldy
Us folkies in wur smoky clubs in rebel ceilidhs sang
That we wid overcome them aw some day.
The ile went pishin sooth; the lion went rampant at the theft
Developin wur taste for revolution
Wi three day weeks an work-ins ayeways steerin tae the left
We cast wur votes in hopes o devolution.
Maggie brung us oot again: we wrote it on the was
Nae Poll Tax Here! An Sheridan wis liftit.
We pit the hat roon fur the miners: saw them loss their cause
The polis brung the heavies in an blitzed it.
Wur weans wur growin up noo an they didnae aw approve
Da’s greyin ponytail, Ma’s gallivanting
Thatcher’s wee yins, suits an ties, aw aimed tae self-improve
And get a joab in bankin or financin.

The millennium’s turn brought chinge again, the swingin pendulum
Anither Holy Grail hud caught wur notice.
New Parliament! New Government! Anither Referendum!
Wi creaky knees we sclimmed the hill o Protest.
Weemin mercht fur the right tae work and aye tae huv a wee yin
Tae work fur equal pey an bring up weans.
Gays mercht fur the right tae love and aye the right tae mairry
We shook fae aff wur minds the final chains.
Wur youth has came and went; we wur the magic generation
Fae student grants tae final salary pensions.
We wurnae telt tae go tae war; could jine in demonstrations
Felt free tae gie the finger tae convention.
We’ve saw it aw; the Berlin Wa, apartheid deid in the watter.
Scotland’s oan the move again, evolvin day by day.
The rebel’s ayeways in us: if they ask us “Whit’s the matter?”
“Whit’ve ye goat?” we’ll say and dauner oot tae jine the fray.
An so the baby-boomers, wrinkly rockers wan an aw
Intae thon bright dawn wi banners waving aw the wey.
As lang as blood’s hot in wur veins we’ll rise up tae the caw
We know that we shall overcome some day.
— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — –
Mary McCabe (Shortlisted for Yarrow Ettrick & Selkirk Festival Border Ballad
prize – published in Streams from the Source – 2015)