Main Street, Newtownstewart, in the early nineteen-sixties

A poem by Bridie Stankard, first published in History West Tyrone, Journal of the West Tyrone Historical Society (2007).

Most of the names in here are very much from my era and, of course, there’s a thrill in seeing my father’s name in print…

In the friendly town of Newtownstewart there’s a street you must pass through

And a hint or two I’ll give you if you’ve business there to do;

From McMaster’s to McDevitt’s it’s a shopping centre grand,

You will not find its equal in the whole of Ireland.

You can watch the model railway train and marvel how it works,

As you sip a cup of tea you’ll get in Frankie Kirk’s

His assistant, Miss Rose Bradley, will serve you with a smile,

Her pleasant courteous manner makes a visit there worthwhile.

If your car runs out of petrol, one more drop you cannot squeeze,

You will get her filled up quickly at Barney McNamee’s

And down the Castle Brae you’ll find that Barney’s not alone

There’s another petrol station manned there by Alfie Hone.

Wouldn’t it be just ideal if there would be a marriage

Between that petrol station and John McGlinchey’s garage?

For drapery and hardware and all kinds of useful goods,

No need to visit Omagh, just call into Francie Hood’s.

Whilst Mervyn Millar loads the feeding stuffs upon your cart

You can let his brother Bertie, book your cattle for the mart.

If you feel the flu you’re taking or lumbago splits your sides

You will find a cure for every ill in Hassard’s or McBride’s.

Beside the Back Street junction as you go through the doors

You will find a warm welcome in the New Reform Stores.

A friendly greeting then takes place between Drew Quinn and me

With Armour Beattie in the background to act as referee.

If you must attend a function, or a passing-out parade,

Drop in to Samuel Carson’s, get a suit that’s tailor-made.

A nylon frock, a jumper, or Parisian hat that tempts

Will be found by every lady in the shop owned by John Kemps.

Mincemeat, steak and sausages and even bullocks’ hocks

You will find them in profusion in that shop of Bob Kinloch’s.

Whilst Armstrong they tell me is doing a roaring trade

Although not long in business he’s already made the grade.

The Houstons and the Gallaghers are long established there,

Of pleased and happy customers they’ve merited their share.

To the friends you meet whilst shopping your troubles you can tell

Beside a cheery fire in the Abercorn Hotel.

And as for public houses where many a cold could kill

The number on the Main Street at five remaining still:

No need to look for pep pills or expensive monkey glands

Or travel to some spa resort in far off foreign lands.

Just stroll into the Central Bar a visit there will pay,

The sign outside announces you’ll get ‘Younger every day’.

To the bottom of the Main Street the men are all decoyed,

By the pleasant helpful lassies that the Roches have employed.

If you want to take a taxi, Crudden, Roche or Jack O’Neill,

Moorehead or Philip Harkin you’ll find ready at the wheel

They will reach your destination, deposit you with care,

And you’ll even find a bit of change left over from the fare.

If you want to give a party when your friends are gathered there,

O’Neill or Joseph Hamilton will soon supply your fare;

If you need more drinking glasses or pretty china delph

From Mr Hazlett’s large supply you can choose them for yourself.

And now that I’ve concluded, here’s my advice to you.

Support the shops of Newtownstewart if you be passing through.

If life’s troubles overcome you and like giving up you feel,

There’s an undertaking business carried on by Jack O’Neill!