A poem in trib­ute to the fallen at Somme

The Oban Times - - Letters -

Sir, The Somme – 100th an­niver­sary A Verse for Mary One hun­dred years ago this year, They went ‘over the top’, so far away, Men and boys, from near and far, Men from Scot­land and from Wales, And some who lived to ‘tell the tale’ On July the first, at the crack of day, The cries, the shrieks, from trenches deep, And, a mother’s heart was bro­ken too, When sons were left per­ished, upon the Somme, To never again, re­turn back home. Now only names re­mem­bered on wood and stone, And on for­eign fields their bones re­main, Lives cut short, in prime of life, Never again to see a child or wife, Or rise each day upon is­land soil. Time does not from me­mories fade, Those dark, dark days of bru­tal war, And of mother’s suf­fer­ing on is­land shores, While bat­tle’s raged, and young men fell, For­ever gone, for­ever lost, upon the Somme! In 1966, I saw her weep in si­lence, For three young sons who were taken from her, And Mary told me about her sor­rows, Of how she also died that Septem­ber day of 1916, How her life was left in ter­ri­ble pains and grief, She said, No joy, no songs, no more happy new years, Will I now ever, ever see again, My days are dark, just like all the nights, War is ter­ri­ble and I want to know How many moth­ers also died those dark days? In trib­ute to Mary, RIP, who lost three sons. An­gus Camp­bell, Gar­ry­na­monie, South Uist.

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