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Uploaded by: Marc Farr on 13/06/2016

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Year: 2010 Location: Whaligoe


Jimmy Sutherland (1913-1951) my Great Uncle was the last Meal Miller of the Whaligoe Mill. My Granny Etta (1928-1989) wrote a poem about her brother Jimmy and the Mill called "The Wee Black Hen". THE WEE BLACK HEN (In memory of James Sutherland last miller of The Whaligoe Meal Mills) O'er there below the hill ye’ll find the Foligoe Meal Mill, Ae young man was ae miller but noo it stands still, Frae morn tae nicht he toiled amangst ae stoor, In ae auld days when a were poor, A’body liked him a his fellow men, Richt doon tae ae crofters wee black hen. One day when busy in ae loft, He spied below an auld boy frae a croft, Fillan each pocket wae corn frae a bag, Nae thocht o’ whether it belonged tae Will or Wag, Till noo ae blame was centred roon a hairmless moose. But noo ae miller kent so he watched ae hoose, Awa back there ae hens were fo o’ glee, Ae crofter he was doon on one knee, Feedan all ae ducks and geese A’body had a piece, And ae wee black hen. Next day a repetition o’ ae day afore, A thing was greedy and wanted more, Noo ae miller whose name was Jim, Says tae himsel "I've had enough o' him," The third day cam he watched frae ae stair, Saw ae auld body samplan mair, Jim gave oot a yell frae ae hatch abeen, Ye wid hae thocht ae gluff wid have turned a chiel green. Ae cute lad openan his palm said very calm, "Man its a real fine puckle ye have here," Noo empty handed he went back tae his but and ben, Ae ducks, ae geese and ae wee black hen, To them he had to explain from where he had obtained ae last grain, Wae a splutter and a flutter they flew at him, For cheatan an honest man like Jim, Grabbed him by ae collar skelpt him wae a hook,Quackan and cacklan "What will we dae wae ae crook," Said ae wee black hen "Let's thraw his neck for pinchan frae ae Miller an anither mans seck." The auld man promised to mend his ways, And this he did to the end o’ his days. Honesty pays A weel loved brother is hard to replace, Mine I’ll remember for the rest o' my days. By Etta Bremner Juhle, Ulbster, Caithness.

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Photo by Carlie MacLeod


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