1. |
Sketches
05:30
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Sketches - Cyril Lomax
Make a note
jot a line
just to tell you, everything’s fine.
(I’ll) Make a sketch, add light and shade,
just to show the war we made
to you….
v1
If I wanted to make you creep
I’d have drawn men piled so deep
fallen lying as they fell,
covered courtesy of falling shell
theres not much dignity down here,
just the flies and rats and fear
the whole Country would do quite well
as a picture of Hell
v2
Bursts of flame with smoke complete
with flying timbers thirty feet
When it’s over where smoke has been
come machines in yellow and green.
(they) seem to sadly rub their eyes
to quietly sympathise
I must be dreaming, I thought I heard a shot,
Oh to find a peaceful spot.
V3
On a road I have to go,
There’s only mud, one needs to know,
the way that lies beneath.
is full of holes as hidden teeth.
The fields are gone, the stuff of dreams
I’ll make my way, say final words
to say farewell to those who sleep.
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2. |
Postcards from France
04:16
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Postcards from France
(Patrick Murphy R.F.C.)
Oh Father, Dear Mother, Dear Sister, My Brother,
My Friend, Dear Other, not last, Dear Lover,
I’m Alive
I’m OK
I Survived
I’m quite well
Flying over Hell
I fight my war high in the clouds
with wind and piston sounds
I float silently and see
I can see from way up here
the war below and feel their fear
see the battle rage below
The folks at home must never know,
of the horrors I know
And so I’ll write and lie
from my seat high in the sky
on a postcard for home
It’s time for our patrol
behind my gun, have no control
while we drone on behind the lines
And when the bombs are gone
they have sung their detonation song
drawn smoking circles on the ground
we’ll fly back to the ‘drome
to the little hut called home
ill take my pen and write
lies in black and white
on the back of a postcard for home
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3. |
Roll Call
07:47
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Roll Call
(The Story of Joseph Afleck)
January 2018
436 of us went to war,
most of us came back again; less 64.
For F Pit men it’s a long-long way
from here to far off France.
Still, we’ll go, we need to go
with no thought of backward glance.
I thought we’d go, the war soon be won,
It’s my duty, for Father and Son.
We’d die at Theipval, history will recall
we held the line sir, we gave our all.
But I’m here is spirit sir, I’m on parade
Here I lie Sir, In the mud I’m laid.
Still, here I am Sir, I’m on parade,
Too dead to answer, Sir, I’m afraid.
Not a man wavered, not a man cried,
we stood our ground, in straight lines we died.
They saw we were missing, just as they should.
They called my name in Auvely Wood.
It’s 7.30 here, cold and wet as hell,
waiting for the whistle, or our final bell?
The guns creep forward now,
so we crawl on behind
when they stop, what will we find?
The smoke clears, the shell bursts stop:
enemy in sight, they wave us on,
and in straight lines, we march into the fight.
Keep your hope lads, hold the line.
I missed the roll call in the wood.
I would have answered if I could.
But please forgive me, in straight lines I stood
And now I lie near Auvely Wood
Not a man wavered, not a man cried,
we stood our ground, in straight lines we died.
They saw we were missing, just as they should.
They called my name in Auvely Wood.
But I’m here is spirit sir, I’m on parade
Here I lie Sir, in the mud I’m laid.
Still, here I am Sir, I’m on parade,
Too dead to answer, Sir, I’m afraid.
Not a man wavered, not a man cried,
we stood our ground, in straight lines we died.
They saw we were missing, just as they should.
They called my name in Auvely Wood.
James Drummond
Here Sir, here I am
Thomas Hall
Here Sir, here I stand
Thomas Hayton
Here Sir, here I am
Ralph Hopson
Here Sir, here I stand
John M Hunter
Here Sir, here I am
Joseph Affleck
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4. |
On The Stairs
05:20
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On The Stair
V1.
To Mr. Robert Varley, and of course your wife,
I’ve been tasked to write to you to say
We’re sorry for your loss
The counting and the cost
In boys and men who proudly went away.
V2.
I hope you will accept the Council members wept
They bid me write to you to say
That those of us who knew,
Young Bartholomew
We’re proud of him, and remain so to this day.
Ch.
Don’t weep for me, the wife or family
He’s not really gone, not our only one.
We see him, standing on the stair
He’s still here, he’s over there,
he likes to stand upon the stair
he likes to know that we are safe and well.
he left, not too return, his hopes and life to burn
But we still see him, he’s doing well
v.3
So, thank you for your wishes,
They mean more than you can tell,
your words are kind and very well received.
But you need to see,
for my wife and me,
He’s here,
He’s smiling,
and he’s well.
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5. |
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Halt, who goes there? (The Battle of Fatfield Bridge)
(Pt. Geordie Hebburn and Lt. Leibrecht)
ch.
How! Who! Whe gans there
Speak up now, I want to know,
How! Who! Whe gans there?
Are you friend or foe?
v1.
Geordie Hebburn of the Guns, was guarding Fatfield Bridge
Just after nine and in the dark, he heard a noise which,
brought out the true professional who knew just what to do.
He stood up tall, (all five foot two), and roared his grand tattoo…
ch.
There was Geordie Ashford and his pal Harry Young
Not long out The Ferryboat, and looking for some fun.
The heard Hebburn shoutin’, and thought it mighty grand.
So they stood and roared a laugh (I felt y’ the’ wez canned).
Givowwer Geordie, shoots the lads, Ah knaa ye knaa it’s me
had y’ gob and let us pass, cos ah kana it’s ye.
So Geordie shoots his officer, Help sor he sang
Cos he came out, and sez his name and that’s where it went wrong
In minutes the situation went from worse to even worser
The lads were shouting to and fro, the language ever coarser
So Geordie shouted for brass, the lad at the top
Unfortunately it wez Lt Leibrecht, which didn’t help a lot.
The busy’s came an took the lads, straight off to the clink
poured them into bed charges read and gave them time to think
about the wisdom or otherwise (if they thought quite calmly)
at the battle of Fatfield Bridge the buggers fought the army
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6. |
Poppy Road
04:21
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Poppy Road
The March of the Washington Heroes
CH
Walking down the old Poppy Road,
Behind each door a story to be told.
A flower on the wall, is there to tell us all,
here lives story of old.
V1
I never asked them why, I never heard them cry
their marching song into the sky; I didn’t even watch them march away.
Never heard their boots, echo in the lane
never saw their tears nor felt the pain
of those whose job was simply to remain,
Take short steps into the past,
these stories should surely last
Turn your feet and walk down poppy lane.
V2
So I trod the path, leading to the past
and listened to their voices on the breeze
Thought I heard feet, thought I heard songs
raised in celebration and release.
Those short steps into the past
are waiting still they remain,
Turn your feet down the old Poppy Lane
M8
Down rows of old houses, homes to them all,
your footsteps will take you back to the past.
If you just look to the wall,
cold cast poppies in stone render
mark a place upon the wall,
where there is a story to tell,
and a tale to remember.
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Fool's Gold UK
Fool's Gold is Carol and Steve Robson. They're based in the North East of the UK, and present multimedia performances all over the UK. Live shows are just that: no tapes or backing. The recordings take that a bit further...
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