This poem about a resident of the village was written by Thomas Lyle two centuries ago.

 

Strathbungo Jean

 

Blytrhe, blythe could I be wi’ her

Happy baith at morn and e’en

 

To my breast I’d warmly press her.

Charming main, Strathbungo Jean.

 

The Glasgow lasses dress fu’ braw,

And country girls gang meat and clean,

But nane o’ them’s a match ava

To my sweet maid, Strathbungo Jean.

 

Though they be dree’d in rich attire,

In silke brocade and mus-de-laine,

Wi’ busk and pad and satin stays,

They’ll never ding Strathbungo Jean.

 

Bedecke’d in striped gown and cait,

And hankerchief and apron clean.

Cheerfully tripping to her work,

Ilk day I meet Strathbungo Jean.

 

Ye gods who rule men’s destinies,

I humbly pray you’ll me befrieu’.

And aid me in my dearest wish

To gain my sweet Strathbungo Jean.

 

Gi’e to the ambitious priest a kirk,

Gi’e riches to the miser mean,

Let the coquette new conquests make.

But, O! gi’e me Strathbungo Jean.

 

No happiness a’ day have I,

My senses are bewulder’d clean.

In bed at night on her I cry,

My heaven on earth, Strathbungo Jean.

 

Should fortune kindly make her mine,

I would not change for Britain’s Queen;

But fondly in my arms I’d clasp

My charming maid, Strathbungo Jean.

 

Thomas Lyle circa 1820