Faith in Bellyclare

Ernest McA Scott

A wud think it wus aboot the erly sixties on a merket-day whun a wee eleven hunner Morris wae twa nuns in ful dress driv in tae the tap o’ the toon fae Bellamena an’ the oul petrol pump at the bak sterted tae click showin’ they hud run oot o’ petrol. No wantin’ tae push the ker doon the street tae the fillin place in full hebit they stapped ootside a shap that soul everything for fermers in the Square an’ yin o’ the nuns stept in an’ speered the boss if he kep ony petrol on the premises. The boss sed she wus lucky for they kep petrol tae test lawnmowers efter they wur sherpened but it was only in five gallon drums an’ he luked roon for somethin tae put it in an’ his een tuk in a raw, on a shelf, o’ whit nooadays wud be caa’d a receptacle for urine, but whut is kent in Bellyclare as a po.

He hauf filt the po an’ toul the nun he wud len hir a funnel tae poor the petrol in. Thankin’ the boss fer hes trouble, she went oot tae the ker, an’ hir frien’ hell the funnel wilst she poored.

Just then a fermer cuming oot o’ the Northern Bank fornent the ker stapped an’ luked at whut the pair wur daeing. In a kine o’ wabbly voice she speered if onythin wus wrang, but the fermer jest lukked her in the een an’ sez, “Mine ye, am no’ a member o’ yer persuasion, bit, ba golly, a admire yer faith”. Wae that, he clears his thrapple wae a big houghle an’ danners aff, an’ the nuns fell aboot laghin.