IN MEMORY OF EARNOCK BING MY EVEREST.

(THE LUGE)©©©
Part of the great Scottish heritage was the various “Bings” that were left following the closure of mines and pits throughout the country. I was born and brought up at the top of Hill Street in Burnbank, better known as the “Jungle” right at the bottom of Earnockbing, as a wee boy I looked on it as my own personal real estate. Many of the coal miners were pigeon fanciers (doo men) and had their loft out the backyard including my own dad which explains a wee bit the following tale.

The poem below was written by 
THOMAS MATTHEW EDGAR MELBOURNE, AUSTRALIA.2005. 
AND WAS DONATED TO WILMA BOLTON. Wilma has kindly shared this for the Historic Hamilton readers to enjoy.

Corrugated iron—wae the ends turned up
Blint--- wistoure and shale
Fifty miles anoor at least
Anither on yer tail

Earnock bing my Everest
The biggestbing aroon
Ah climbed ye every day in life
The tallest in thetoon,

Mony’s the time I fell aff the tap
Fae aff yertowr’n heights
Brokentaes and fingers
Ah should bedeid by rights

Cadzow bing it was’nae bad
Butwis’nae near sae steep
Naewhere near the broken bones
Aw’right forgrazin sheep.

Dae ye mind wee Wullie doon the road
We put him in a tyre
Ah’m shair it wis aff a Chieftan bus,
An’ fae aff yer very spire,

We gied’m sich a hefty shove
He felloot haufway doon
Hestaggert’ roon for hauf an oor
An roon n’ roon n’ roon,

As soon as he could staun at peace
He said “Christ that wiz great”
“Could wedae it agane jist wan mair time”
It wiz clear hecould’na wait.

So intae the tyre again he went
This time we tied him in
An wi an even harder shove
We sent him for a spin.
Well “Tottie Minto’s” pigeon loft…
Ah’ kenye’ve guessed already
It, wiz quite plain foraw tae see,
Eventae blind Freddy

Unhappy circumstances wid unfold
Andmibbie even mair
Aheid oan crash, a lot a stoure
An’ feathers everywhere

Deid doos deid as dodos
Died in their loft that day
Like road kill theyaw’ lay aroon
Ah guessits fair tae say

We thought the wee block doon the road
Wi’ thedoos had done his dash
Surprise, surprise, would ye believe,
Fae inamang the trash

A ghostly figure staggert’ oot
An roon n’roon n’roon
He said “Christ that wiz bliddy great”
Ah hope that very soon

“ We dae that agane jist wan mair time” 
“This timeah’ll git it right”
at thispoint ye can guess the rest
its time to sayguidnight

Dear Earnock bing where ur ye noo
Wherever did ye go
Scattered to the winds, ah think
Ah’ ken ah miss you so.

Oh Earnock bing my Everest,
It’s time to sayfareweel
Ah won’t forget ye ever
Fareweel Fareweel Fareweel!!!!!

(A wee efter thought)
For those of nostalgic persuasion
Ah hopeye enjoyed my heart felt reminiscence
Of
Slidin doon ma Earnock Everest, Oan ma erse…….in verse.

Thomas Matthew Edgar. 
Wilma Bolton. 2005.