Our New Neighbor

OUR NEW NEIGHBOUR
©Edward D. Hughes, Canada, 20240309.

When Montague got off the late morning train, and stepped into our market town,
Some folk met him with open amazement; a few offered only a frown.
Some nodded a tentative greeting but mostly, our homesteading folk,
Would not say a word; at least, ’til they heard what language the dark stranger spoke.

We’d none of us e’er seen a black man before; we never expected to, here;
But there he stood, clutching his land claim, for his piece of the prairie frontier.
“I’d be grateful, Sir, for your directions to this, my allotment of land.”
The black man spoke well; oh yes we could tell He was one we would all understand.

Old Geordie Brown, sipping with Calum a tiny wee stroupach o’ tea.
Says to us all in the Gaelic, “Now what kind o’ man can this be?
He’s as black as the bogeymen haunting, the crofties in our Scottish hills.
I doot it’s no weel, that’ll come from this chiel, I doot he’ll bring naught but dark ills.”

Another wee sip o’ the stroupach, then Geordie near choked on his tea;
or up spoke the black man in Gaelic, “You’ve no need to worry o’er me.
“I was raised in a manse by a couple, who came from the Isle of Raasay
Aye. A minister’s son, an adopted Scotsman, And I work, and I pay my own way.”

From that day on, all of us witnessed the truth of what Montague said;
He worked hard himself on his homestead. He helped others to get ahead.
He prospered, extended his holdings, though ne’er at another’s expense.
He built the best stooks; read scholarly books, his commitment to life was intense.

In a year, Montague was our mayor, when we saw he was nobody’s fool;
Right away he struck up a committee, to establish our first district school.
The committee searched for a good teacher, applications arrived day by day;
One came from the East; ’twas by far the best; but Montague had this to say.

“This lady taught in Nova Scotia, New Scotland, the place I came from;
I know her. I won’t recommend her; you’ll have to decide on your own.”
“She’s skilled but she’s young and unmarried. And that’s where your plans will go wrong, She’s sweet as a rose; someone’s bound to propose, I doubt she’ll stay single for long.”

The committee discussed the whole matter. Pretty soon they came to a vote
A unanimous ‘Yes’, one abstaining. This time Montague was the goat;
For we knew every family around us. There were none of the age to be wed,
If she came alone, she would stay on her own, in spite of what Montague said.

Well, the lady arrived very quickly. The committee met her off the train;
All that Montague told us about her came back to our minds once again.
On the first sight we saw she was pretty; academically, there was no lack.
What we hadn’t been told we could clearly behold; this beautiful lady was black.

She certainly was a great teacher. All the bairns took to her right away,
In the summer break, she married Monty. We all celebrated that day.
At the Ceilidh that followed the wedding, bridegroom Montague stood up to say,
In the Gaelic, forbye, “Now, my friends, didn’t I predict it would happen this way?”

Next summer, they had their first baby. Four others since then, truth to tell.
The teacher has taught every winter; she seems to plan everything well.
Our children are well-educated, and Montague’s happy and bright.
He knew, all along, we would think he was wrong, when he led the committee that night.