Home – Family Traditions, inventions, recipes and oddities.

White Dutch Clover (Fowles)

If you have even a scerrick of Fowles or Lorkin blood in your body, you may devotedly and dearly love gardening… Its in your DNA…  So, the next time you are weeding and you come across this blessed little beauty! “White Dutch clover” and you are wringing your hands as to how to ‘get out’ this little weedy critter.  I’d just like to tell you that the Fowles settlers in Ferndale planted this with the devoted wish that it would flourish and provide feed for their animals.  Their greatest annoyance that the wombats would come and eat it before the animals got a feed!  Want to know more? read HERE.  I like to just let mine have its head ‘a little’ in my garden now as a reminder of those ancestors who prized it so much.

White Dutch Clover

White Dutch Clover

Vesper Cocktail ( Helmrich, Whitehead)

During her working life Neva Whitehead (Helmrich) often worked in cocktail Bar’s and in the 1960’s invented her own cocktail which I’m told was quite popular!  It was inspired by a James Bond movie and was called a Vesper.

1 part gin

2 parts vodka

1/2, 1 part dry Vermouth

1/2 1 part lemon cordial

top with lemonade over ice.

The following recipe by Mrs A.G. Kingshott one third prize in a cooking contest!

Third prize is awarded to Mrs. A. G. Kingshott of Watheroo, Midland Railway for this recipe. 20 September 1914 – Sunday Times

Moon Pudding (Kingshott)

Beat to a cream 1 pound of fresh butter; mix with it by degrees an equal quantity of powdered sugar; add to this the yolks of two egs and then the whites.  Shake in lightly 1/2 pound of flour well sifted. Then add 1 pound of raisins chopped small a little mace and the rind of a small citron grated.  Butter a mould and strew it thickly over with candied orange lemon or citron peel.  Put in the pudding and boil for three hours.  Serve with custard sauce.

A song (Ballad)  about the fine folk from the Lyne of Skene (Hellmrech & Simmers would count).

THE BODIES O’ THE LYNE O’ SKENE.

Ye powers o’ rhyme gie me a lift

To string ‘thegither twa’r three line,

About some frien’s that I hae here

That’s lang been guid to me and mine:

Gie me the power to raise a lilt,

To show my thoughts and feelings keen,

Wi’ gratefu’ glee I fain wad sing,

The bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran canty bodies,

Better never hae I seen;

Auld farran canty bodies,

Dwals into the Lyne o’ Skene.

Frae Castle Fraser tae Braid Straik

I’ve drawn mony a shinnin’ groat;

Kintore and Echt hae aften help’d

To brighten up my gloomy lot.

The twa Afflochs, the Terryvales,

The bonnie Newton, an’ Greystane

May well come ben—they’re brithers to

The bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

There’s Lauchintilly an’ Scrapehard,

The blessings of the puir hae won;

An’ better folk ye winna get

Than Drumnaheath and Tillybin—

The Letter gars my spirits glow.

In Wardis I fin aye a frien’,

An Breamy, kind, may weel comparae—

Wi’ bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

The gardener lads I canna pass,

For deeds o’ kindness never slack—

Baith auld an’ young hae aften help’d

To fill my purse an’ teem my pack.

The auldest frien’ that I hae here,

Wi’ heart-like steel, sae true and keen,

Lang may he live to crack and joke

Wi’ bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

For Craigiedarg, I’ll ne’er forget,

Wi’ kindly welcome sets you down—

An’ Bervie, Corskie, Waterton

Shall mingle in my namely tune.

Back Ward, Blue Park, the merchant’s folk,

Hae ever kind and cantie been—

An’ lang may Marshal’s humour please

The bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

There’s tailors, souters, wrights, an’ smiths,

Like brithers kind hae been to me,

And lealer hearts ye widna fin

‘Atween the banks o’ Don and Dee.

The Fornets gran’ I maun bring in

‘Afore my ravel’t rhyme be deen,

An cottage bodies warm my heart

Like bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

When frosty fogs bedim the moss,

An’ little Robin ‘s nearly dumb—

Or storms drive o’er frae Wardis braes,

An’ roar like thunder o’er the lum ;

The tempests sweep the leafless woods,

And bend an’ brak the firs sae green,

Yet cosh and cosie here I sit

‘Mang bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

May health and peace their steps attend,

And plenty ever swell their store—

And friendship true and love’s warm glow

Spring in their heart for evermore;

May a’ their hopes wi’ joy be crown’d,

May sorrow never dim their e’en—

The open-handed, kindly-hearted

Bodies o’ the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

May corn an’ cattle ever thrive,

An’ kirns an’ girnals ne’er gae deen,

An’ layin’ hens and heavy calves,

An’ kebbucks like the harvest meen,

An’ taty pits like giants’ graves,

An’ kail an’ clover ever green,

An’ buckin’ stacks and towerin’ rucks,

Be ever in the Lyne o’ Skene.

Auld farran, &c.

W. CHISHOLM.

A. KING AND CO., PRINTERS, ABERDEEN.

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