When I was a boy, I used to complain bitterly that the museum never changed its presentation or exhibitions. In the 1970s it seemed stuck, perhaps like a Church, unable to move and part of the Scottish “system” as it was at the time, a relic. Even today they are still displaying Buddy the stuffed Lion, with the card “on display since 1929”.
If all the threads that Paisley made were found again one day.
I’d hang them in the sky with Love to take away the grey.
Upon the gold I’d write a tale of stories from our past.
About the folk we”ve lost in time that’s moved away so fast.
Upon the red I’d see the war and all the men who died.
I’d write the names of all their wives whose tears we left behind.
Upon the Abbey darkened threads of blackened thoughts and crimes.
Of a bygone age of killing men for moral crimes.
Threads of blue I’d give to schools, to teach them peace and Love.
By leaving parts of history, while rainbows hang above.
Upon the green, the Irish woe, migration, war and fear
While London pushes migrants out with hatred causing tears.
Upon the white I’d ask buskers to write their stories clear.
To fill the sky with hope and dreams of music for our ears.
Upon this richest tapestry I’d paint a cross and crown,
To show the world the triumphs of dear Paisley, my sweet town.
I don’t think I will go out today somehow.
Just outside St Mirins Cathedral, Paisley.