Betty Jenkins Bridge

(In The Estate – beside Garden Cottage)

Information from Canmore

The Bridge acquired the name because Betty Jenkins lived in a cottage beside the bridge. She (Elizabeth McCallum) was born in 1792 in Glen Fyne, Kilmorich. Her father, Gilbert McCallum was Herd in Glen Fyne, her mother Christian McVean. Betty married Walter Jenkins (from Greenock) in 1818. Betty had been living in Strachur at the time of her marriage. 1841 Census shows her living at Strachur Bay with her brother Alexander McCallum, Betty was a widow. From 1848 Church Record to 1871 Census Record – she is living in Strachur Park. At the time of her death in 1874 she was living at the Clachan.

IMPERFECT CURE

Poor Bety’s ailments did not mend
Her lively spirits sank

She could not walk beneath the trees
For the air was moist and dank

And crouching o’re the fire all day
In her damp cot she sat

With none to listen to her griefs
But her sympathetic cat

Three boys would often visit her
Half sorry half amused

And strive the lonely one to cheer
By telling her the news

One day they found her very dull
Said John, what shall we try

To rouse the creature from her woe
I’m vexed to hear her cry

Said Duncan, I will bring a fiddle
And play some old Scotch reels

And very soon we’ll make
Old Betty shake her heels.

That night a gossip chanced to call
She was neither young nor pretty

And, as they cracked, the boys strolled by
said good evening Betty

Quoted Will, (the women furtively
Were at the fiddle glancing)

The Doctor says that rheumatism
is often cured by dancing

John bowed to Betty, Will to Jean
They all became quite frisky

And Duncan started with the tune
Known as our Highland Whisky

Betty drew back I’ve often told
The Minister I’m dying

And if he hears of this might say
That surely I was lying

Oh nonsense Betty we all know
You’ve faith in Doctor Paul

We’re following his orders now
in getting up this ball

Now Betty’s sister lately sent
A pair of wooden clogs

Knowing that in the neighbourhood
There were so many bogs

The heels and toes of iron were
And when the dance began

They rattled on the hard stone flags
With a metallic clang

And soon the young ones struggled
To keep from laughing out

While Betty with old fashioned grace
Tripped daintily about

At last her strength was well nigh spent
And with a gasp she stopped

A stately curtsy low she bobbed
When to her chair she dropped

They listened long to her old tales
Of ancient entertainment

When she was belle and all the men
For her little hand were claimants

When she was a lady’s maid
The young men at the fair

Would fill her apron full of sweets
And praise her eyes and hair

Twas Betty here, and Betty there
And ribbons by the score

Side combs, & buckles and brooches
Her bag could hold no more

On Sunday when she went to Church
And fair would be sedate

A string of lads would convoy her
Up to the Castle gate

But on them all she looked with scorn
And never sought to wed

Till handsome Watty jenkins
Stormed her poor heart and head

All her afflictions she forgot
In the triumphs of the past

And for a while her aches and pains
Unto the winds were cast

When the three boys bade her good night
They shouted at the door

Hurray! three cheers for Dr. Paul
He’s found the perfect cure