Ali Bali
My dad always brushes off how “good” at words he is. “I’m not a writer like you, Becca” he grumbles, when I have asked him to read my blog post for the thousandth time. He says I get it from my mum and that she is the “english” one and there is no doubt that for the most part I do. My dad has always been the artist- prefering to flood his heart and soul on to his canvas, the way I would a google doc.
My dad doesn’t give himself enough credit. Before I was born, he wrote the most beautiful (but mostly disturbing) love letter to my mum that no child should ever ever have to see. Every year, he writes little notes in italian in her birthday cards despite the fact he is from the very epicentre of where culture goes to die. You might know it? East Kilbride? Ring a bell, yes? A far cry from the majestic mountains of Northern Italy but he does his best. That being said, the most powerful words, my darling dad has ever used is, unsurprisingly, the title of this very piece.
For the Scots amongst you, you may fluently and completely understand those two gibberish words as plain as if they were the Queen’s English and a permanent feature in the Oxford English Dictionary. To the rest of you, let me explain. Ali Bali is the first line of an old scottish nursery rhyme/ jingle. Originally, a man called Richard Coulter sang the song as he walked the streets of Dumfries, to alert the local children that he was nearby with his candy cart. At least it wasn’t a white van. However, that’s some back story you really didn’t need to know for the purposes of this. It goes as follows:
Ali bali, ali bali bee,
Sittin` on yer daddy’s knee,
Waitin` for a wee bobbie,
Tae buy some Coulter`s candy.
Look at wee (child’s name),
(s) he`s lookin` awffy thin,
A bag o` bones covered in skin,
Soon (s)he`ll be gettin` a wee double chin,
Fae sookin` Coulter`s candy.
Ali bali, ali bali bee,
Sittin` on yer daddy’s knee,
Waitin` for a wee bobbie,
Tae buy some Coulter`s candy.
Daddy gie`s ma bankie doon,
I see the man he`s comin` roon`,
Wi` a basket on his croon,
Sellin` Coultter`s candy.
So, you get the idea. Well, if it wasn’t already obvious. I grew up listening to my Dad singing Ali Bali. He sang this little tune over and over until I drifted off to sleep. It was my teddy bear or blankie so to speak. This lullaby is so ingrained in me that, even now, when I am worried, scared or stressed, my dad only has to mutter “Ali Bali” for me to know that everything is going to be alright. I know that one day I will sing these words to my own children and I hope their children after that. They have got me through countless difficult times and anxious moments . It’s more than just being connected to my scottish ancestry and tradition. It’s more than just a reminder of my dad. They make me feel safe. They are a reminder than no matter where I am, no matter how I am feeling, I always have a home.
Today is the day of my wonderful dad’s birthday: the most important man in my life. The man who has taught me so much, who I fight with constantly but love and respect most of all.
Happy Birthday Dad,
Ali Bali xxx
