Orange Lodge 8

Junior Orange Lodge from Mordaunt Street, Dalmarnock c1962
this photo was given to me by GlescaPal Charlie, Oct2006

Apr.07 Linda Curl, East Kilbride. .....it was my sister who pointed out your website 2 me she found it when she was playing around on google and decided 2 type in my dads name Billy Curl 2 her amazment my dads name came up and under orange lodge she got 2 ur site and a pic of my dad in the hugh magill memorial prize flute band was displayed on browsing thro the pages on page 3 and pic of the junior orange lodge form mordaunt st dalmarnock 1962 was amazed 2 c a foto of myself Linda Curl, im in the 2nd row 2nd on the left i dont rem this pic or anybody else in it but hey great blast form the past regards Linda

Jun.07....GlescaPal Belle, Glasgow. hi webmaister, I was 13 when that photo was taken, I'm the 3rd from the left top row with a stupid hat on then I was chaplain with the tray with the bible on it. I was in the lodge for 10 years.
I lived in Summerfield St,Dalmarnock, I was known as Isabelle Henderson. I went to Springfield Rd primary, then went to Riverside secondary,
I was in the orange lodge since I was 5, I loved every second of it. I was the chaplin first then deputy mistress, then worthy mistress for 2 years. When i left school at 15, we moved to Paisley, I hated it, the orange lodge wasnt the same, not the same buzz as the glasgow one, so I left it, but never missed a rally yet, I still travel up to glasgow for them.

My father was Danny Henderson, amateur football player. He played in the glasgow green, everybody new Danny he used to drink in the Blue Lagoon top of Springfield Rd-Baltic St.

12 July 2007 GlescaPal IanS, Oldham I am positive the guy at the left of the picture without the glasses is my uncle George Derry as he was a member of the Mordaunt Street Lodge and played the accordion.

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Jim Howe 1969
marching at Bridgeton Cross

Jim & Susan Howe 1969

Glesga Pal David Reilly's book 'oot the windae'
a journey in rhyme, this is one of his poems
.
The Orange Walk
Now I know I'm far too young to talk
but I'll make an exception for the Orange walk
I am not very tall as I am not yet two
so I am on dad's shoulders for a better view
but all I see is a sea of heads
baldies and bunnets and middle sheds
and hair styles purely designed to shock
I can’t wait to see this orange walk

I can see what I think is a big parade
with all these banners being displayed
a soldier up front on his big white horse
a feather in his hat and pantaloon drawers
a young man followed leading a band
tossing this stick from hand to hand
he threw it upwards and heaven sent
the cheering got louder the higher it went

Then the biggest man with his massive drum
beating and banging from a big fat tum
his face as red as his nose was blue
the white of his bum was showing too
beating and banging from side to side
Boom Boom Boom his fathers pride
the backbone of the band and solid as a rock
but where the hell is that orange walk

Then came rows of men all playing flutes
looking grand in their toy soldier suits
with a spring in their step playing their tune
proudly marching through Glesga toon
the drummer boys bringing up the rear
beating their drums and playing by ear
when the music stopped they kept the beat
and made the pace walking down the street

Each of the bands had their own banners
carried by men with impeccable manners
with their white gloves and their bowler hats
and some carrying sticks like baseball bats
marshalls walking and defending the line
all in unison and in perfect time
orange sashes draped over their suit
there still no sign of that wandering fruit

The bands play louder and it's getting scary
completely drowning the bells of St Mary
singing and dancing a cacophony of noise
the Bridgeton loyal and the apprentice boys
jaked up on the Lanni and the VP wine
none of your Lambrusco or wines from the Rhine
drinking beer and cider from plastic kegs
I still can't see an orange that has sprouted legs

Wev’e walked up the street and round the block
and I am fed up looking for this orange walk
not a plum nor a banana not even an apple
but dad saw a pear getting chased from the chapel
there was plenty nuts and plenty fruitcakes
that wanted to fight a bunch of grapes
who were booing and jeering in rival mock
I don't think I'll ever see that orange walk

Perhaps when I am older I will understand
about the procession and about the band
and why some people find it annoying
Orangeman celebrating the battle of the Boyne
so what if a footballer goes to mass
or blesses himself touching the grass
in this day and age does it really matter
what happened years ago across the watter

Glasgow would be a far better place
if we only listened to each others case
for aren’t we all Jock Tamson's bairns
from Bridgeton the Gorbals or Newton Mearns
in a divided city where they walk alone
one lot on the streets and the rest at home
if those of influence could all take stock
then we all might see that Orange walk