DISCOVERING

MATTHEW ANDERSON

POLICEMAN-POET OF AYRSHIRE

This new book is available only from Donald L Reid, 7 Manuel Avenue, Beith KA15 1BJ e: donaldleesreid@hotmail.com price £10 if uplifted or £12 by post.

Matthew Anderson (1864 - 1948) made his special mark in life and was known as The Policeman-Poet of Ayrshire. He served in the Ayrshire Constabulary for 36 years, retiring in 1923 and he died in Kilmarnock (5 Fairyhill Road) in 1948.

He began writing poetry about the towns and villages where he served in Ayrshire and eventually produced 6 small volumes of poetry and prose. His work was very popular and he contributed many poems to local news papers and periodicals including the Kilmarnock Standard, Ayrshire Post, Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald and the Police Review and Sunday Post.

Anderson had a family of 13 children and life must have been quite difficult bringing up such a large family on the wages of a police constable.

From a local perspective he was stationed in Barrmill village and covered Gateside, Burnhouse and Beith from 1891 to 1896 when he was transferred to work in Coylton. Later on he returned to the area when he was posted as village constable to Dunlop.

Whilst working in the Beith/Barrmill area he composed several poems relating to the district including a tribute to Rev I Grant Sutherland, Minister of Beith.

Beith based local author and historian, Donald L Reid, spent three years researching the life and times of Matthew Anderson and published a book entitled: Discovering Matthew Anderson - Policeman-Poet of Ayrshire. This book is only available from Donald L Reid at: 7 Manuel Avenue, Beith, Ayrshire KA15 1BJ Tel: 01505-503801 or E: donaldleesreid@hotmail.com. It costs £12 by post or £10 if collected from the author.

The book is illustrated with over 50 excellent photographs and in addition to Beith, Barrmill, Burnhouse and Dunlop, it also features, Ardrossan, Waterside, Dalmellington, Muirkirk, Coylton, Symington, Ayr and Kilmarnock, with some captivating poetry that will strike a chord with the reader and take them back on the wings of time to the Ayrshire of yesteryear. The life story of Anderson is also fascinating. In addition, the book contains a potted history of the Ayrshire Constabulary (1841 - 1975). The mining industry in times past is also featured together with reflections on living conditions for the ordinary man.

This book will appeal to anyone who loves old Ayrshire and those who come from the various towns and villages where Anderson served will enjoy his poetry reflecting on people, places and events as he looked at life with a special sense of wonder.

This book has been postively reviewed by Ayrshire Post, Kilmarnock Standard, Ardrossan & Saltcoats Herald the Police Review. It is a limited edition of only 600 numbered and signed copies available only from the author: Donald L Reid, 7 Manuel Avenue, Beith KA15 1BJ Tel: 01505-503801 E: donaldleesreid@hotmail.com. It costs £12 by post or £10 if collected from the author.

FAREWELL TO BARRMILL
(Or, 'The Barr,' as it is commonly called)
Donald L Reid writes: Matthew Anderson left Barrmill in June
1896, receiving a presentation dinner and gifts for himself and
his wife from well-wishers. As in his other postings during his
36 years service, he was respected by all who knew him.
Poems such as The Braes o' Barrmill, Night at Barrmill and A
Harvest Night recall happy times in this village.

Farewell to Barrmill and those that dwell there;
I'm ordered away near the auld toon o'Ayr;
Where our Robert Burns used to ramble with joy
When he was a sensitive, shy little boy.
Farewell to the railways, farewell to the rills,
Farewell to the hollows, farewell to the hills,
Farewell to the hedgerows, where birds are so gay,
'Mong beautiful blossoms this fine summer day.
Farewell to the hall by the side of the road,
Where prayers in their purity rise unto God:
Oh! Merciful Jesus, bend down from afar
And strengthen thy children who toil at the 'Barr.'
Farewell to the milkman, that jolly good soul,
Whose milk is so pure and whose wit is so droll,
Who plays 'Peter Dick' when he knocks at the door,
And puts all the bairns in a joyful uproar.
Farewell to the quarries, farewell to the mill,
And all the surroundings so peaceful and still;
And though I am forced to wander afar,
I'll ever remember the braes of the 'Barr.'
One farewell to Beith, Oh, that old-fashioned spot,
And those grand hills that guard it, shall ne'er be forgot;
While memory lingers in fancy, I'll see
The whole panorama so dear unto me.

THE BRAES O' BARRMILL
I notice pair bodies, they seldom despair,
While richer anes grumble and growl evermair;
For me, I'm contented to wander at will
Amang the wee birds on the braes o' Barrmill.
Fair nature has stretched oot her large loving arms,
And spread in profusion her beautiful charms
O'er mountains and valley, o'er meadow and hill,
And o'er a' the bonnie wee braes o' Barrmill.
I like tae gang strollin' by auld Ba'graymuir,
Where nature lies smiling and birds warble rare,
Then on by the Thirdpart, then roon by Greenhills,
And back doon the braes into bonnie Barrmill.
Oh, dull is the head, and the he'rt, and the soul
O' him wha in simmer gangs oot for a stroll,
And feels nae a joy as he wanders at will
Amang the braw flowery wee braes o' Barrmill.
Some folk ha'e riches, but still they are poor,
They lock up their he'rts till their souls become soor;
He's richer in joy that can wander at will,
And sing we' the birds on the braes o' Barrmill.

IN MEMORY OF WEE DAVID HARVIE
Drowned at Barrmill on 11th October, 1894
Donald L Reid writes: The following report appeared in the
Western Supplement and Advertiser of 13 October, 1894. On
Thursday afternoon, about half past one o'clock, a melancholy
accident occurred at Barrmill, whereby a little boy, 1 year and
10 months old, son of William Harvie, a foreman at the works
there, was drowned. The child, accompanied by a sister, 8
years of age, had been playing some distance from the village
at the side of the Black Dam, a hole into which is conveyed the
waste dye water, when, unobserved by his attendant, the little
fellow had fallen into the water at a spot about three feet deep.
As soon as the sister missed her brother, she at once made a
search, and finding the body, she carried it in her arms with all
speed to her home, a distance of half-a-mile, when every
endeavour was made to restore it but ineffectually. Dr Syson
was called but his services were to no avail.
The sweet summer days had but newly departed
And Autumn had spread golden leaves o'er the ground,
When one day, too swifly, grave rumour reported
That down in the meadow a child had been drowned.
I hurried away to the sad house of mourning,
While friends struggled hard the lost life to restore,
And eagerly watched for the dear life returning,
But, alas, it had gone to return nevermore.
He was a bright little boy, with such beautiful
Fair flowing ringlets, and cheeks like the rose,
And lovely blue eyes, like the sweet summer skies
That hang o'er our heads in eternal repose.
From those skies descended an angel invisible
And wrapped the young soul in its beautiful wings;
And now, 'mong the fair fields of heav'n David wanders,
While sweet little songs to his Saviour he sings.