The Blackberry Gang Poem by Mai Murphy Venn

The old tin sweet-can is long since forgotten, but it had many uses in its day. Not far from where I lived as a child, there was a sweet shop owned by an old woman who was very cranky. The shop was nothing more than a hallway. At one side of the hall, she had a low counter. On it all the jars of every sweet you could think of, she had jars of bobbley dosslers' 12 for a penny or 6 for a halfpenny, asset drops 6 for a penny, bull's eyes 6 for a penny. Bonbon 6 for a penny and so on. If by chance you were there when she was filling the jars you would see the sweet can as she took the lid off. The whiff of the sweets would put the longing on you, and you would want to hold on to the unforgettable smell of fresh sweets for as long as you could.

When the sweet-can became empty, there was a demand for it from all the housewives in the area as it would become the steaming dish for the Christmas pudding, come Christmas.

Well, my story of the sweet-can, begins with a group of boys and girls wanting to go to the matinee in our local cinema but had no money. One of the boys came up with an idea. It was to pick blackberries, then sell them on to the fruit dye merchants for the money. This idea was good, and we would have a good time as well. In my street there was a large family and four of them would be the main organiser of the day, two brothers and two sisters. I was going along for the laugh if nothing else. In the street next to us were two brothers and they were coming to, this made seven of us. The oldest boy was from my street, Buster Murphy and he was the big boss. He told us to be at the corner at 9 o'clock sharp. Getting up early in the summer holidays would not be my idea of fun, but if it meant we all go to the matinee as a group that would be worth it.

The next morning I was up at the crack of dawn looking for a jam jar to pick the blackberries for Buster, s, grand idea. Buster sisters, Connie, and Imelda came to collect me, and we all met at the top of Cross Lane., but the lads from the other street were late. Buster was getting fed up waiting for them with his mammy sweet- can in his hand swinging back and forth. At last, they arrive, and we headed to the country for the collection of big juicy berries. As we got to the first picking places the berry was few and far between, not worth picking so Buster said we go to the field beside the wood, they might be riper over there. Well, we got there, but it was the same, no ripe berries. Then Buster said to the boys we will go up to the top of the hill and we leave the girls go to the far side.
That was okay with us, the sun shined on that side, so we were delighted when we found plenty of blackberries there for the picking. We were filling everything we could fill as the boys were nowhere to be seen. We were wondering what was going on. Then we heard a great loud cry from the top of the Woody hill and then we could see this tumbleweed coming down among the trees. It was like the old west and we were expecting a cowboy or Indians to follow, but alas it was one of the boys. Run for your life's, he shouted as he ran towards the gate. Just as he mounted the gate, Buster running as if the hounds of hell were behind him, saying 'The Devil himself is after us in the shape of a big black dog with eyes of fire'. Well, it is at a time like that, you discover who your friends are. I had an asthma attack, and my so-called friends were running for the Grand National without the horses. I could not breathe and ponder to myself. I better start saying my act of contrition because I could be meeting my maker sooner than I had anticipated. I finally reach the gate clinging on to my jam jar that I pushed in and out between the bars. I could not climb over and I was afraid to look back for fear of what might be behind. At last, out on the road away from the field I began to look for my comrades, but there was no sight of them. I went on slowly walking, panting, and puffing along the empty road until I reach the crossroad and there they were smiling like a bag of chips. 'Are you all right girl' they asked. I turn to them and said, 'a fat lot you care'. We all sat down and had a chat, when Buster told us he had gone to see the hound of the Baskervilles a day before. He was sure the dog he saw was the very same dog. Well, I have to say that Buster did have a great imagination, but that is all he had.

Now he was a bit worried about going back to town without blackberries, so we all gave him our jam jar, but he still insisted that we go up another hill to pick more. We were all refusing to do so, but he was the boss and what he said, we did. We pick black, red, and green berries and we filled everything to go home. Buster still not happy and he wanted to make more weight in the blackberries in the can to get more money. While Buster was thinking of ways to make the berry heavier. Connie and Imelda said why not wee on them. The boys obliged and we started to walk down the hill while the boys did the deed.
We met two German girls who were living near the wood. They were wearing anoraks. It was the first time we got a good look at these coats as we had heard so much about them from our friends. We girls all decided what we were getting for Christmas. Anoraks,
Then the boys came back.
With steam coming from the sweet can of blackberries, it had rather a strange smell, but we did not mind as we walked into town. We went down to the shop with our crops. we were paid just the right amount to buy seven tickets for the hard seats in the Gods of the Ritz Cinema.
Well, luck happens; we found a half-crown outside the bookie office as well. We decided to go down to the sweet shop and buy everything and anything we could get for 2/6. The old lady had to open two sweet cans because she ran out of humbugs and lozenges.
We went home first, had our tea, and got dressed in our best glad rags before 5.30. We all met in our street and off we went to the 6 o'clock matinee. To my surprise, the film was the hound of the Baskervilles. My friend Buster spent most of the time hidden under his seat, then watching the film.