von Robert Gordon Blackburn
Regiment upon regiment in their orderly rows, Battalion after battalion answering the bugle calls, Marching quickly and smartly, columns for miles and miles, Regiments, battalions forming battle lines. With the quickening of the drum beats the pace of march increased, Marching into battle, the enemy soon to meet. Battle flags a-flying, fluttering in the sky, Each carried by its bearer, proudly held up high. The sabres of the officers, the bayonets of the men, All brightly flashing in the morning sun. The battle not yet started, the killing not begun, Soldiers stepping proudly to the sound of the drums. The blacks and the greens of the infantery Blending with the fields, Followed by the line regiments, an army of colour and might. Each uniform is different from the regiment behind, All marching very proudly to the battle site. Come the hours of shot and shell, Those moments filled with fire, smoke and hell. The gaps in ranks where comrades fell, The sight of blood and instant death. A fallen friend now laid to rest. Still forward on, cry the bugle calls, The battle must be won before the darkness falls. The smoke and dust now cleared, The battlefield of death revealed. Now is the time to count the cost, The good men we have lost. To bury the dead and stop the bleeding For today, Death will be happily reading The names of the dead and the slowly dying. But come the morrow, smartly marching, Look again for an enemy to be fighting With bugles blowing and battle flags flying.
It´s nice to be a carer And look after other folks. To have a special empathy For sympathy be known. A carer must be a listener To all the moans and groans. Share the pains of others, Be a kind and gentle soul. But who tells the carer They done a first class job. When the work is sad and lonely And the patients not got long. Who listens to the carer When the carer wants to talk, Who holds the carer?s hand When the carer wants support. Who cares for the carer When the carers had enough. The answer is most certainly, Theres no one else, but God.
Sailing lightly, shining brightly Through the turbulence of the clouds, Silver moon or silver galleon, Ploughing through the cloudy seas. Making ever steady headway, Riding on the windy breeze, Sailing proudly in the night skies Through the stormy, cloudy seas. Silver moonbeams, dancing downwards Through the darkness of the night, Playing games of hide and seek With the bright, edged clouds beneath, Causing ever-changing patterns Where earth and shadow meet. Now all world is clad in silver, The silver moon in a velvet sky, Silver lakes now reflecting mirrors, Linked by shining, running rivers, Silver trees on silver hillsides, All embraced with silver lace. Shining moonbeams, silver streams, Laughing, dancing living dreams. All is bathed, so white, so clean, Enchanting world of silver moon, Making magic of the night. But soon the spell that you enfold Will turn from silver to morning gold.
To many folk You are many things But to me you are my love You are the sun Within my life And the blue sky up above You are the girl Of whom I think With the first thought of the day You are the love That´s in my heart And all the words I say You are beside me Everynight And in my dreams you stay Then one day When I am dead My life has passed away You?ll have been the light Of all my life And all the things I´ve prayed
Old Percy was a waggoner, With horses ten feet tall. His will was their master And his word was their law. He polished up their harness, Tended to all their needs, Brushed their coats, until they shone, Put shoes upon their feet. But gone now, are the waggoners And the pride of those passed years. Gone now, are the shire horses That clattered down the street. But old Percys still a proud man, And still the master of his trade, He lives within the memories, To recall those bygone days.
A rose is perhaps the most perfect of all the flowers, the most beautiful there is. But you are far more beautiful and much, much sweeter to kiss.
Tick, tock, I am a clock, Ticking life away. Tick, tock, tick tock, every minute of the day. Tick, tock, ring the bell another hour, who can tell. Tick, tock, tick, tock, time is running, going well. Tick, tock, time is passing live it well, while it is lasting. Tick, tock, tick, tock, says the ever ticking tock. Tick, tock, ticking loudly sweeping hands, striking loudly, Tick, tock, tick, tock theres no such thing as passing slowly.
I lay here on a grasy bank, looking at the sky, I find my job so weary, watching clouds go rushing by. So within a short time my eyes begin to close. Ive worked so very hard to guide them passed And into orderly rows. If I could only get some help, when trying to achieve, I wouldn´t get so tired and end up fast a sleep. It really is a hard job, which takes it out of me. Especially with the thundering waves When I´m lying by the sea. You may have experienced a similar sort of thing, Of helping birds up high, to flap their weary wings. I find it very hard work, racing waves along the shore, Or teaching all the lazy birds to sing their songs in tune, It´s always such an effort, counting ripening apples fall.
To the big one, the small one, And the one in between. To the one you say no, Then maybe we´ll see. To the one you think is good, Then answers you back That´s the one you Really could smack. The one you want Right out of your sight But that´s the one You miss most of the time Because it is too quiet It drives you out of your mind.
Don is my cousin That will never change. When we meet in heaven, It will be just the same. We always met in friendship With a smile on each face A heart felt welcome That made everything OK. He was like my elder brother, The one I never had. My hero from the army When I was just a little lad According to our wives. We are very much alike Both difficult to live with. But we know that can not be right. To me he was someone special That, I can not deny, So someone very special Can never ever die.
Rolling waves across the sea, Following horizons endlessly. Gently lapping foreign shore, Rolling on forever more. Flotsam drifting on the tide, On the waves the world to ride. Tropical storms and crashing waves Endless miles of splashing spray. Thunderous might and darkest night, Or glistening waves and twinkling lights. Choppy white or darkest green, A restless soul on mighty sea. Sweeping down into the spray, The deepest depth of emerald jade. Then up to the heavens into day, Washed again by lashing rain. Who is the master, who can say, above the heads of sailors graves.
It is not a sin To kill to live, To kill for love, One can forgive. But to love to kill For the sake Of killing. Forever able, Forever willing. There is no love Within a soul, No place in heaven For it to go.
I´ve locked you in my heart, So not a soul will know Just how much you mean to me, The way I love you so. I love the way you laugh and smile, The colour of your eyes. I love the way you brush your hair, The very way you sigh. Yet, you may not even notice me As we go our separate ways. But I think of you almost every hour Of every passing lonely day. But should that day arrive To make my secret known, You´ll know how much I love you, How much my love has grown.
Thank you for being so happy and bright, For laughing and smiling most of the time. Thank for sharing your special delights, Putting the sun into the dullest of sights. Thank you really for just being you, My beautiful wife always faithful and true.
Dearest Sweet, my own true love, I want you more, then heaven above. I give you my love and my happiness, And all the world, if I could. For your love is like a treasure chest, Of sparking jewels in the sun. A new love born, each bright new morn, With comparisons to none. Your eyes, your lips, your kisses Are the jewels in my life. And your words of love The treasures, my greatest single prize.
I am a man, And here I stand. I am no one´s slave, And no one?s man. I tread a straight path, And I stand up proud. I speak my mind, Perhaps a little too loud. But I am as I am, I do as I please, And I am the man, I want to be.
The colour of your hair Reflects the beauty in your eyes. Your lips so soft and warm, Each kiss of your´s divine. You snuggle up inside my arms As if that where you´ve always belonged. My eyes look into yours, Your charms is much too strong. How could any one resist you, The perfect angel of delight. If I am not yours already, It´s only a matter of time.
Filling in the moments, That seem to last for hours. Waiting lasts forever, Or seems so at the time. Minutes more like years. Then a fragment of an hour Thinking thoughts about you As the sunshine turns to rain. Wanting just to see you As I while away the time. Waiting, waiting for you, Working out the words. That live within my mind, To say the words: I love you. The words I always seem to hide. To say that everybody word is true. I am yours from the bottom of my heart. Wanting for answers to the questions, To those questions I never ask, So is there any wonder, But my courage never seems to last. So will I ever tell you, that It´s you, that always fills my mind, So, here am I awaiting. Waiting, waiting out the time, Hoping that you will see. But as always you never will, As you go quickly walking passed.
Do you think of me from time to time When I?m not about or near your aside. Do you sometimes wish that I were close To share a moment in your thoughts. Do you sometimes give a happy smile When a special thought fills your mind, A memory we two can only shared From a time of day, now left far behind. Then in a twinkling of an eye, A thought, a memory, once lost in time. Is a suddenly picture clear and bright, Of a special magic moment in our lives. The first tooth, a tear that was caused By an unwarranted harshness of a single word. The arrive of our baby doll, a little princess, That looks just like her lovely mum.
A penguin is a funny bird. It swims instead of fly´s. It lives on fish but not from tins Has a part of daily diet It lays its egg in burrows In which rabbits used to live. It usually has just one chick Which it guards with its life. How they ever manage to survive Is the biggest mystery of all time.
We soon forget those long gone days Of kindness shown to another, When we only had but three, Kevin, Alexander, and Georgina The love they had for each other. They where her boys, her big brothers She their little sister, aunty georgie How she cried when she had to leave her boys
In reference to our reference dated May 3rd I hope by now the shock as gone for I am sure you will have heard the price of all your stocks and shares have fallen through the earth we thought we’d reiterate the statement which we have already made that all your stocks are worthless you haven´t a penny to your name It’s will do you no good to sue us for our shares went just the same we hope you´lI see the funny side and one day bank with us again.
The old oak tree was felled today, there´s a hole in the heavens, where it used to be, it´s branches were wide, it’s leaves so green it was the most beautiful tree, you ever would see. It must have stood there for hundreds of years for there was a hole in it’s bark where a lead bullet had pieced although it´s trunk had been split by some fearsome storm. It still lived, growing proud and tall, to children, it was a place to hide and play for family picnics, on hot summers days But the old oak tree was felled today now there´s a hole in the heavens where it used to be.
Darkness is a velvet world Of silver moon and stars. A time for young lovers Holding hands in the park. The darkness bring her lips A little closer all the time. If you say you love her, Tell her truly of that love. Remember there is magic With the silver moon above. And every word that?s spoken, Is a commitment of eternal love.
To see the bluebells cascading beneath the trees before the trees came springing into leaf A ribbon of bright blue stretching forever so it seemed but gone now are the bluebells we had once seen now a distant long lost dream. The yellow primrose woods have also gone along with childhood memories that still linger on I feel a sadness that all are lost along with the birds that once sang their songs where they belonged now other children can’t share what we once heard. Next to go without a doubt, will be the Broughton lily woods gobbled up by greed, for yet another golfing green. Nor was the local people asked if they could or should, but gone are the smell of the flowers that had once belonged to me which I thought would be the there forever, for future generations to see.
Just gone eleven but not far from three, those days when she always copied me. I’d turn around and she was there, a smile on her face and never a care. She was my shadow in frilly pants, my little darling with sticky hands, the funny little expert of the river dance running about with her lady bird pram. Our little baby with rosy cheeks, that was forever under my feet. My helper with hose pipes and pools, yes, I missed her when she started school. Now she’s eleven, the pride of her school, the sports captain and house captain too. She the perfect prefect with badges to boot, girls swimming champion, with records renewed. You’ll not see her swimming, she’s really that fast, maybe a glimpse of some ripples and a yellowish hat. She´s as busy as a bee with one thing or another, with enough cups and shields to fill a cupboard. Next it’s Gainsborough Grammar and different times, catching the bus, both morning and night, looking after big sister Georgina, won´t that be nice. But Friday is different, we’ll have much more time, perhaps, we will be calling at Blyton, for big juice ice. (But only if the weather is fine)
Vegetables are plants that mostly grow in the ground some are long and thin, others are fat dirty and round. Some are eaten raw, whilst other are cooked, mashed or boiled as kids we hate them, because of the bugs that live within the soil Knowing whatever is done, it wouldn’t hide that awful taste we pushed them round and round, to the side of our plates Hoping that in due time, they’ll aIl up and disappear then comes the word, we were most dreading to hear You can’t leave the table, till all your greens have gone. That is probably a punishment like someone being flogged. Who ever invented greens should be cooked and boiled with frogs.
To hold you close in my arms all smug and warm, with words of love until the coming of the dawn. Your face I see in every dream reminding me, you are my love, my heart, all I´ll want, and will ever be.
I dreamt of you to other night And in my dream I held you tight. I kissed your lips a thousand times, For that time you were only mine. But in the morning you where gone, Back I suppose to where you belong. But I know one day or night you will return, Then all my love I´ll give and yours I´ll learn.
Dirty city, Filed with sin. Crooked chinney pots, Tall and thin. Dirt filled sky?s, Filthy streets. On every corner, Strangers meet. Capital city. Streets of gold. So the story, Clearly told. So what went wrong With London town. Filled with dirt, And falling down.
Now we have another Gary He?s Gary´s eldest son His name is Kevin Robert You can see to who he belongs. He looks like Gary, walks like Gary, So like Gary, talks continually. Because he lives in Germany, Theres words we´ve never heard. With lots of words in German With English words between, Then there words you wont believe. So sometimes it´s all a puzzle As to what he really means. Then when he thinks we´re lost it, He´ll talk very very slow As if we are really very thick Or perhaps don´t want to know.
Because I think you very, very nice, With soft sweet lips and lonely eyes, Because you are my perfect dream, And always look so nice to me. Perhaps some day, of cause, if you agree, You might spend some time with me. Maybe we could go out for a drink. What?s your thoughts,what do you think? Perhaps, you don´t think this idea is so great, You and I out, together, on a date. Well, yes, maybe I´m crazy, that is true, Maybe perhaps that´s because it´s over you.
He knew the blow was fatal when sword cut into his chest But that day he’d die an hero he’d fought and killed the best the battle had been fearsome with odds of three or more to one in which many a brave young hero Had died a long and slow lingering death The day was almost over the battle was all but won Then came his fatal error of facing into the dying sun A flash on steel into his eyes a fraction of a moment blind His lesson learned, now too late that second sealed his fate. A moment later he was gone just like the sinking blood red sun.
With suddenness the brilliance of the sunset slips quickly out of sight. Then follows another world which we call the night. The trees take on a darker tone, with arms and legs and faces all adding to that sinister note that sets the heart a racing. It’s not what we’re seeing nor even what we hear more in what we’re thinking that fills us full of fear. Perhaps a sad and lonely goat in the distance mournfully bleating, makes the shadows seem to grow the ghosts you think you’re meeting. The night is a different kind of world where shadows seem to grow with different shapes and places. in which our courage seems to go. We´re carefully avoiding graveyards with their ghostly rows of stones. Expecting any minute to hear some horrible shrieks and groans. Yet what is there in darkness, that daylight sweeps away. The ghostly owls on silent wings seeking out their lonely pray. Bats suddenly disappearing as darkness begins to fade. A nightingale´s song is now sung, before the night turns into day.