Jeckymcnab by Laura Spence

JeckyMcNab by Laura Spence

Ye’ll a’ ken tha story o auld Notre Dame
anthahunchbeckwha rung thakirk bell.
They say ‘Quasimodo’ the puirmon was ca’d:
a quare funny name, but tha French is gye odd,
but oniehoo, on wi me tale.

Thapuir love−struck hunchbeckhaed croaked−it, ye see,
so they needed a bell−ringer noo.
Tha Bishop sent wurdthrootha streets o Par−ee
“If ye’r able fur ringin, cum strecht here til me
an ah’llgie ye a fair inner−view”.

They pit owretha tests in tha belfry itsel
an a wheen o fowkettledtil play;
they pu’edan they grunted but hadnaethakneck
or ocht like tha skill o thon doitedhunchbeck −
so tha Bishop had ca’ed it a day.

But jist as the auld boy was quattinthakirk,
this wee mon wi’ naeairmshurpled up.
“Ah’mfraeIrelan’,” he touldhim,”Ah’m here fur the jab:
thur’snaeb’die rings bells like Wee JeckyMcNab −
will ah gie ye a tune jist fur luck?”

Tha Bishop be’dhert−scar’d o turnin’ him doon
in case he micht takoot a case.

“Dinnae fash,” Jeckytoul him, “Ah’ll cum tilnaehairm:
Ah’ll no can streck bells wi me haun or me airm −
but ah’llgie them some dunt wi’ me face”.

Jeckygeen him a rinowre ‘ThaMoontins o Mourne’
an ‘ThaStarn o the Auld CoontyDoon’.
he rung wi his chin an’ he rung wi his ned:
an ootbytha French fowkgether’droon.

Thadunfoonert Bishop –he’d ne’er seen tha like,
an he kent this cud bring him fame −
he spat on his loofan he heeled it weel oot.
“Ah’venaehaunstilshak wi’ –takhoul o me snoot,
an Ah’ll ring ye “Tha Green Gress o Hame”.

But jist as puirJeckystepp’t up tilt ha bell
an geen it a dunt wi his heid,
he tuk a quare stumble owre yin o his feet,
an thaurthapuir ringer lay deid.

Tha guid fowk o Paris a’ got a quare gunk
as they luk’dwhurthadeidJecky fell.
“Dae ye ken ochtaboot him, his faimlie or hame?”
The Bishop said sadly, “I jaistkent his name,
but I maun say – his face rung a bell”.