Tweet
I wrote this year for two very good friends, who lost a loved son that day:
Mersey Lads
Walk along the busy road
the rolling traffic, unaware
as homeward, workward they bustle past
impervious to what happened there
Once, this was an Army base
an outpost on the edge of town
with blast walls, sangars, briezeblock huts
manned by soldiers of the Crown
It stood for many violent years;
saw generations of uniformed youth
trudge through; standing strong, at post
their duty clear, their job to do
Sharing the endless routine of stags
first time for some, for others a return
the First Battalion, King's Regiment
took over the post, to take their turn
Stagging on is a tedious chore
but the Kingoes understood their role;
'waiting for nothing to happen' mode
as the hours, the clock would slowly burn
0400 - a change of stag
the lads in the middle, exchanging chat
with their reliefs, who headed in
for a cuppa, before grabbing some 'zees'.
Quiet - a chill breeze, the rustle of trees
eyes became accustomed to the dark
check the log, the radio net
check the Gimpy, watch your arcs
a bit of trade - headlights approach
a delivery van, on an early start
perhaps the chance of a still-warm loaf
a packet of buns, an apple tart
the van gets closer, approaches the humps
and slows to come to an expected stop
the soldier raises a commanding hand
and hopes the driver doesn't throw a 'strop'
but as the vehicle draws close
instead of the usual scripted chat
the world erupts in a flash and roar
as the energy wave blasts everything flat
Standing on this busy road
that horror still hangs in the air
and the spirit of the Mersey Lads
like the breeze, always will be there
For the two Stephens, David, Vincent, Paul and Patsy
(c) Stevie King 2016
Mersey Lads
Walk along the busy road
the rolling traffic, unaware
as homeward, workward they bustle past
impervious to what happened there
Once, this was an Army base
an outpost on the edge of town
with blast walls, sangars, briezeblock huts
manned by soldiers of the Crown
It stood for many violent years;
saw generations of uniformed youth
trudge through; standing strong, at post
their duty clear, their job to do
Sharing the endless routine of stags
first time for some, for others a return
the First Battalion, King's Regiment
took over the post, to take their turn
Stagging on is a tedious chore
but the Kingoes understood their role;
'waiting for nothing to happen' mode
as the hours, the clock would slowly burn
0400 - a change of stag
the lads in the middle, exchanging chat
with their reliefs, who headed in
for a cuppa, before grabbing some 'zees'.
Quiet - a chill breeze, the rustle of trees
eyes became accustomed to the dark
check the log, the radio net
check the Gimpy, watch your arcs
a bit of trade - headlights approach
a delivery van, on an early start
perhaps the chance of a still-warm loaf
a packet of buns, an apple tart
the van gets closer, approaches the humps
and slows to come to an expected stop
the soldier raises a commanding hand
and hopes the driver doesn't throw a 'strop'
but as the vehicle draws close
instead of the usual scripted chat
the world erupts in a flash and roar
as the energy wave blasts everything flat
Standing on this busy road
that horror still hangs in the air
and the spirit of the Mersey Lads
like the breeze, always will be there
For the two Stephens, David, Vincent, Paul and Patsy
(c) Stevie King 2016
In memory of Private David James McCahill
Comment