84 Clifford Lane,
Glasgow,
G51 1NR
Glasgow,
G51 1NR
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Old Lochgelly
They told me in terrible detail how corporal punishment felt.
In Scotland the wrongdoer`s hands were thrashed with a cloven leather belt.
They told me of double maths with the man who could turn your giblets to jelly,
Named after the town where the belts were made, the teacher called Old Lochgelly.
“Know how Stevie was climbing the gate and got stuck on a dead sharp spike?
“Yeah,” I gulped. “Know how Jamie split his heid when he came aff his bike?
Know how Jenny ate a spider and it had babies in her belly?
They only done it to get out of double maths with Old Lochgelly.”
“He`s only got one suit,” they said. “It`s baggy and shiny and manky.
It smells of cupboard under the stairs, of eggs and snottery hanky.
He gives you hard sums that twist your brains and make them squeak.
He gives you more if you cannae dae them and he belts you if you speak.”
“And he belts you if you fidget and he belts you if you sigh.
He belted skelly Agnes cos she wouldnae look in his eye.
He dips his belt in dogshit so the wounds it makes all fester.
He takes his holidays in Lochgelly and goes to the works as a tester.”
“The factory`s got no windows but smoke seeps out under the door.
They test the belts on orphans. You can hear them howl, ”That`s sore!”
You can hear the teachers laughing over screaming lathes and saws
As they forge and cast and season at last another Lochgelly tawse.”
It is fair to say that with some trepidation I went to my first double maths.
Lochgelly set us this grim riddle about men running so many baths.
The sun slunk by his window afraid to peer into the room.
We chewed our pencils and fretted as he glowered through the gloom.
It was Alan Malcolm that got it. “Small boy,” said Lochgelly, “Stand!”
His nose had a drip, it fell from the tip as he tried to obey the command.
His pencil was held up, all wet and mangled, between finger and thumb in disgust.
“This boy will be punished,” said Old Lochgelly. “There will be no repetition, I trust.”
For all they had told me of Lochgelly`s evil they had none of them mentioned his cape,
Made out of dead crows and darkness in an eariwig`s carapace shape.
From its awful interior the belt was produced, every mouth went dry.
Then he set us an inky exercise on the value of x and y.
He strode to the door and threw it wide, Alan dribbled out after.
From down in the street as we sat there unbreathing came a gust of improbable laughter.
I fully expected Lochgelly to go out and start belting passers-
“What was it like?” we cornered him in the corridor after the bell.
“Not too bad,” he smugly lied. “Don`t give us it, we heard you yell!”
“It`s the sorest thing in the world,” said Alan. “Your insides boil with pain.
Your scalp prickles, your wee-wee trickles, then he scuds you one again.”
“The next few your hand goes blue and your entrails turn to puss.
If you make a noise he leans right in and says “Boy, don`t make a fuss.”
He`s old and he smells but that belt is solid and he really gives it welly
As he puts it away you have to say “Thank-you, Old Lochgelly.”
I saw Lochgelly on the bus last week. His real name`s Mister Grange.
He`s old and stooped and diminished. He had trouble counting his change.
For two whole days after one of his beltings I lost the use of my arm.
Standing room only so I gave him my seat. It didn`t do me any harm.
“It`s the sorest thing in the world,” said Alan. “Your insides boil with pain.
Your scalp prickles, your wee-
“The next few your hand goes blue and your entrails turn to puss.
If you make a noise he leans right in and says “Boy, don`t make a fuss.”
He`s old and he smells but that belt is solid and he really gives it welly
As he puts it away you have to say “Thank-
I saw Lochgelly on the bus last week. His real name`s Mister Grange.
He`s old and stooped and diminished. He had trouble counting his change.
For two whole days after one of his beltings I lost the use of my arm.
Standing room only so I gave him my seat. It didn`t do me any harm.