We wull remember them: Ullans article

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Navember is the time o tha year whun maist o is lake tae remember them wha bled an dee’d in the wars that oor forefeythers foucht in.

Forbye wae mine tha yins wha cum hame some o them lamed in boady an mine. Wae this in mine I cum on a wee poem that wus scrieved bae S S. McCurry, it is set roon tha time o great war an hes bane geen a bit translation intae Ullans bae mae guid freen Charlie Gillen. Here it is an dinnae forget tae aye REMEMBER THEM.

’Betty’s sympathy by S.S M’Curry Translated bae Charlie ‘Tha Wizard’ Gillen.

In a vale in emerald ulster , when the war at the front was sore,

A dear oul’ ulster woman, sut knittin’ beside her door,

Socks ; socks tae send till the sojers, kep’ hir shinin’ needles at play

For wae sorra’ an ‘ joy she thocht o’ hir boy, an’ his comrades far away’.

She had hard o’ the sojers marchin’ an’ the miles they had tae go,

An’ they’re terrible times in the trenches, in the sleet an’ the drivin’ snow,

She thocht o’ the murderous Germans , an’ she gret’ as she clinched hir fist

“I declare this day I wud up an’ awa , if only a woman cud’ ‘ list.

But hoo cud ye help them betty , a listnin’ nybor cried,

Cud ye hannle a gun or a bayonet, cud ye get on a horse an’ ride,

If a wheen o’ them Germans cum at ye , wud ye stan’ yer’e grun tae be shot,

nor budge not an inch , whun it cum till a pinch, dae ye think ye cud manage that lot.

Sez betty I know what I’m sayin’ there’s plenty a wummin cud do,

I cud stan at the baak o’ the trenches , an’ keep the Germans in view,

I cud watch whun the shells wud be cummin’ an’ afore ony blid cud be spilt,

Tae the boys I wud shout, here’s anither luk oot, Luk! jook! or ye’ll all be kilt.

An’ efter the shootin’ wus by lake, an’ the Germans awa for the day

I wud hurry an’ boil up the kettle an, get them a wee cup o’ tay,

An’ I wud dae wee turns for the cratures , an’ clean aff the clabber an’ dirt,

An’ bathe their feet at the hearth in the heat, an’ men’ their socks an’ their shirts.

But och! if ony wus wounded , I don’t know richt what I’d do,

Except for tae rin for the doctor, tae help me tae pull them through,

An’ between is we’d manage tae cure him, for I’d pray while he bandaged the sore,

Wae that betty stapped an’ the big tears drapped! She sabbed an’ cud say no more.

Tha Poocher Navember 2014.