Part 2  The story o’ Wee Jimmy

  By Exile


Back in the clubhouse after the game,

Things started off remarkably tame,

“We’ll just have a pint before we go hame,

Just one or two beers,

While Mike and Camsie had more o’ the same,

Me an’ Archie disappeared,


It was warm in Pitlochry wae the sun on your back,

We completed our shopping, returned up the track,

Went into the clubhouse to find out the crack,

Didn’t like how it sounded,

On McEwans the pair had launched an attack,

Our worst fears were founded,


Camsie was hell-bent on a session,

Mike’s eyes registered aggression,

I thought I’d better make a mention,

O’ a return to Dunkeld,

For this was the original intention,

Where the drinking would be held,


Says Pate, “Wee Jimmy frae The Tap,

Maintains he’s a Marine Commando chap,

He’s slightly built, looks like a sap,

You never ken,

It could just be a load o’ crap,

….but there again”,


And so the ‘Tap’ became our venue,

Pints o’ McEwans were on the menu,

Mine Host Wee Jimmy extended his hand to,

Wave us through the door,

Mindful o’ the potential revenue,

Frae this thirsty lookin’ four,


Looking for signs around the bar,

My gaze fell on a Brunswick Star,

I enquired of Jimmy ‘Had he travelled far,

Or aye lived quite local?’

His beard failed to hide a nasty scar,

He was no ordinary yokel,


O’ the badge on the shelf he made a mention,

“I was a Commando and had every intention,

Of doing twenty-two years and getting a pension”,

Said Jimmy wae pride,

“Left the Marines after a spell o’ detention,

When they put me inside”,


As Archie and I explained our careers,

Wee Jimmy’s eyes were brimming wae tears,

Customers fell silent straining their ears,

Should gossip be missed,

Jimmy grabbed the Glenlivet, five glasses, four beers,

We were going to get pissed,


As he walked frae the counter and passed a barstool,

Shocked silence fell over the boys playing ‘pool’,

Wee Jimmy never did this as a rule,

Not even to change kegs,

When a comment was made by a regular fool,

“Look! he’s actually got legs”,


He’d been a ships Marine an’ served in Aden,

Done a’ the things that had been forbidden,

Left the Corps an’ kept his secrets hidden,

Eventually bought this Pub,

Now a man of stature wae pockets laden,

In the millionaires’ club,


He missed the comradeship, an’ missed the Corps,

Nae adventure in Birnam, no enough to explore,

His loins must have ached for the occasional whore,

To put spice in his life,

An’ remind him o’ Malta, Bombay, Singapore,

Before he had a wife,


We sat round a table wae Glenlivet and ale,

Me, Jimmy and Archie told tale after tale,

Mike an’ Pate listened an’ couldnae fail,

Tae see Jimmy sae flushed,

Thirty minutes ago he’d been whiter than pale,

And the bar was still hushed !


The rounds were flying thick and fast,

Recounting exploits o’ the past,

When Jimmy served before the mast,

Since nineteen fifty-three,

The Glenlivet bottle widnae last,

And neither would we,


Mike Fertacz was agitated, going his dinger,

Camsie was blethering an’ waggling a finger,

Archie wae eyes closed was the cabaret singer,

Or so he wished,

Enjoying the novelty the customers would linger,

An watch Jimmy get pished,


Jimmy’s tongue widnae work, eyes widnae focus,

His beard fu’ o’ whisky, spittle an’ mucous,

Mouth open an’ slavering, he drew attention to us,

The bold Archie kept singing,

While Camsie an me joined in with the chorus,

Another round Mike was bringing,


He’d just been for a pee, you could tell by his ‘spaver’,

His conversation reduced to monotone haver,

The Camsie’s condition got graver and graver,

When young Annie walked in,

Jimmy was programmed to continual slaver,

And you could hear a dropped pin,


“When you get hame there’ll be a fight,

Getting in this state isnae bright,

You knew Mither was going out tonight,

Yer dinner’s on the plate,

It’s overcooked, deserves you right,

You’re half an hour late,


Pete waved his hand, he couldnae speak,

Mike looked as though he’d just been ‘seek’,

Archie, maist sober, was having a leak,

An Wee Jimmy was bloatered,

The prospects for later were decidedly bleak,

And I was half snottered,

 COPYRIGHT – Calluna Publishing