IN most parts of Glasgow if you saw a chap strolling down the road with a sheep's head stuck on the top of a pole you might think his butcher had a complicated answer to a shortage of plastic bags, or more likely that the sheep carrier had forgotten to take his medication that day.

If you are from Govan, though, your heart would beat a little faster as you would realise that it is the day of the Govan Fair.

Since 1756, when it was started by the Govan Weavers Society, on the first Friday of June a procession is held through Govan with, at the front of the parade, a "sheep's heid" on a pole. The story goes that all those years ago a local minister refused permission for his housemaid to marry, and in protest angry Govanites cut off the heads of his sheep, and now, what is actually a ram's head, with quite a puzzled look on his stuffed face, is carried though Govan to commemorate the event. Goodness they don't half carry a grudge down Govan way.

The procession ends at Elder Park where a fair is held, and behind the ram's head is the Fair Queen, a local primary school girl who this year is Cari Morrin from Ibrox Primary. Cari was crowned by Glasgow's Lord Provost Sadie Docherty with almost as much aplomb as a Westminster Abbey ceremony.

The crown is particularly regal with purple satin and enough sparkling stones set in it to suggest a replica of Queen Elizabeth's crown. And her sceptre has a model of that ram's head on it staring up at her. The poor girl will probably not eat lamb ever again. However Cari's smile lit up the room as the 11-year-old had the happy insouciance of someone too young to realise they were Scottish and therefore not supposed to be enjoying themselves.

There were politicians aplenty witnessing the crowning, including SNP deputy leader Nicola Sturgeon and Scottish Labour leader Johann Lamont. They're not very chatty away from Holyrood, although Nicola did manage a welcoming squeeze of Johann's shoulder. Johann's frozen stare suggestes she will send her jacket to the cleaners. But that's being unfair. As a former teacher Johann simply has that look of someone about to shout at a class of unruly children.

The scenes at Govan are repeated in towns and villages throughout Scotland at this time of year where local communities still keep traditions going with fair queens, landemer queens and scores of other local names for the occasion.

It's less common in the cities, where local traditions have disappeared. But Govan always saw itself as different. As arguably Govan's most famous son, Sir Alex Ferguson, once put it: "To call Govan a district is an insult. It is a unique entity, a place with its own independent spirit and clearly defined personality."

Govan was the fifth largest burgh in Scotland until it was incorporated into Glasgow in 1912. But the independent spirit Sir Alex talked about was not based on civic history, but the working-class pride and energy created when Govan was a booming shipbuilding centre.

A lot of that has gone now of course. The Govan coat of arms has the Latin motto Nihil sine labore - nothing without work. The more pessimistic Govanites say it now means "No sign of work".

For centuries Govan was just a village with coal mining as its earliest industry. Then came weaving with over 300 hand-loom weavers in the 19th century. The far-reaching changes came in 1850 when brothers James and George Thomson opened a shipbuilding yard in Govan which they called Clyde Bank. It was later transferred across the river and shortened to the single word Clydebank. Other shipyards opened until there were over 90,000 people crammed into the tenements of Govan where the din of the shipyards was the backdrop of their lives.

Now there is one yard left, and the plan is for that to close, and the work also to go across the river, this time to Scotstoun. If it does, the biggest employer in the area will be the vast new Southern General which is currently Scotland's largest building project. The rising building now dominates the skyline, and as it is unlikely that Scots will stop their unhealthy lifestyles any day soon, it should provide jobs for generations to come.

Govan needs it. That indominatable working-class spirit that Sir Alex referred to has been pummelled by decades of job losses. The illegal drugs trade has also drained the spirit of many Govanites.

The humour of the shipyards, which once defined Govan, is hard to endure when locals no longer have the jobs where they can share life experiences. Glasgow City Council leader Gordon Matheson was once stopped by an elderly Govanite who said that in the 1970s his wife had anxiously asked union leader Jimmy Reid if any shipyard workers were to be laid off as she was worried about her man's job.

Jimmy told her: "We're fighting for every man, Mary, but it looks like six fitters are being made redundant."

"That's all right," said Mary. "My husband's only five foot six."

A nascent business in Govan is the arts, with the old town hall a production centre for film and television. Not so long ago a sign outside the hall said "Neds. This way". It was not a rallying call for the area's ne'erdowells however, but the production office of Peter Mullan's film Neds.

So perhaps Govan can reinvent itself once again. Perhaps that puzzled-looking ram's head will one day be a film star.