1. |
Twa Scots Soldiers
04:27
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TWA SCOTS SOLDIERS
Twa Scots soldiers enlisted fae France
Spurred on by Kitchener to take their chance
Against the Kaiser with a screech and a yell
And make him afraid o’ the Ladies From Hell
Dressed in khaki kilts and a fine pair of spats
Standing in line like real cool cats
Glengarry on each heid and a gun in each fist
What possessed these twa canny lads to enlist?
From Mons to Ypres all the way through the Somme
Would they be left standing when their mates are all gone
To look back and wonder how they ever returned hame
Or will they no’ come back again?
Twa sweethearts did they leave behind
To worry themselves nearly out of their minds?
“Dinnae fret me hinny just bide yer time
For we’ll both be back by Christmastime”
“Oh laddies ye dinnae ken the danger that ye’re in
Before ye’ve grown accustomed to the smoke and the din
O’ the rattle o’ machineguns and the whiz-bangs crashing loud
They’ll be wrapping yer wee bodies up in a shroud”
From Mons to Ypres…
One looks down and examines his gun
Will it keep him alive until the War is won?
The other stares ahead wi’ a pipe in his teeth
A young-old face, what thoughts lie beneath?
Is he thinking o’ his hame in the hills and glen?
Daydreaming o’ adventure wi’ the rest o’ the men?
Is he lost in premonition o’ the horrors ahead?
Does his spirit hear the pibroch sounding for the dead?
From Mons to Ypres…
(Gary Miller)
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2. |
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BOLD AS BRASS
Sat in your uniform looking real class
Striking a pose as bold as brass
You played a mean cornet in a military band
The finest sound in all of the land
The girls all adored you; it was always a lark
When the band came to play in Battersea Park
Polished and smart, a mighty fine gang
All for one, one for all, when the instruments sang
So blow on your cornet, blow it loud and proud
When the band would strike up, what a heavenly sound
An old photograph in sepia tones
Shows all of the boys in impeccable rows
Trombones and euphoniums, marching snares and bass drum
Cornets and tuba and a shield proudly won
So blow on your cornet,…
As the call went out, “there’s a war to be won”
Rifles and bayonets replaced cornets and drums
Down on the platform there was not a dry eye
As they wished you luck as they waved you goodbye
An artillery officer astride a fine mount
Twice gassed ’midst the carnage, still not out for the count
But no longer to blow so bold on your brass
With your lungs constricted by the harsh mustard gas
So blow on your cornet, blow it loud and proud
When the band would strike up, what a heavenly sound
And though sweet music fades, its memory flows
Are you playing in Heaven now God only knows?
As the angels sing when your cornet blows
I’ll be blowing your trumpet wherever I go
(Gary Miller)
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3. |
Sister of Mercy
04:05
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SISTER OF MERCY
A kind angel does her rounds
As the bombs fall all around
Never ceasing, never failing
Her young heart pounds
So very, very weary, constantly weary
Through eyes tired and bleary she smiles
She says, "God deems I will survive
I thank God that I'm alive
To comfort and to strive
Where but for the grace of God go I"
She calms the sobbing ones
Who quake in terror of the bombs
Brightened by a good sing-song
They pray their nightmare won't last long
Just to know that she was there to keep them from despair
Their need lends courage to keep her going strong
She says, "I live from day to day
I see each bombing raid's display
As the ack-acks strafe and stray
And the casualty list rises every day"
Like the Lady of the Lamp, burning bright
This Rose of Heaven brings comfort, love and light
While underneath the lamplight no nightingale sings
In Berkeley Square the sirens sing
While a city burns to the ward she returns
And the wild-eyed stares of those who need her care
She will constantly be there
The Sister of Mercy heeds their prayers
Hardly time for a cup of tea
Oh for a nice cup of tea!
In the cover point she sleeps
In slumber dead and deep
In her uniform she lies for two hours at a time
And then it's time to rise and start again
Like the Lady of the Lamp, burning bright
This Rose of Heaven brings comfort, love and light
While underneath the lamplight no nightingale sings
In Berkeley Square the sirens sing
While a city burns to the ward she returns
And the wild-eyed stares of those who need her care
She will constantly be there
The Sister of Mercy heeds their prayers
A kind angel does her rounds
As the bombs fall all around
Never ceasing, never failing
Her young heart pounds
While a city burns
(Gary Miller)
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4. |
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SOMEWHERE AT THE FRONT, SOMEWHERE
Somewhere at the front, somewhere
A soldier sits with pad and ink
Lampooning all the things that he sees there
It might cause a bit of a stink
For if the CO learns of it, quicker than a blink
He’ll have him cleaning the latrines or even in the clink
For it wouldn’t do for Tommy to question or to think
Somewhere at the front somewhere
Now Tommy has a lot of gripes
So to comment on army life
He draws cartoons that take almighty swipes
Whilst making fun of all his troubles and his strife
He’ll grouse about the billets swarming everywhere with rats
But it’s far worse in the trenches where they’re as big as cats
They’ll empty out your mess tin then fill up your tin hats
Somewhere at the front, somewhere
There are bits of onion floating in your tea
To wash down bully beef or plum and apple jam
While the generals sit in chateaux sipping brandy
To wash down all their lovely eggs and ham
Now two teaspoons of rum just doesn’t seem quite fair
To give Tommy the courage he needs for trench warfare
What can he do but raise a shrug and shout “C’est la Guerre!”
Somewhere at the front, somewhere
Exhausted you’re made to stand in line
For medical inspections and parades
Bellybuttons touching backbones, every one
Like skeletons, what specimens we make!
The MO walks along the line and grabs you by the balls
And squeezes them until you cough, it makes you feel so small
We’ll use his balls for marbles so he has no balls at all
Somewhere at the front, somewhere
Tommy’s work encapsulates the human spirit
Over the cruel inhumanity of war
It’s got comedy, cynicism, and satire
Parody, anger, wistfulness and more
You won’t see it in Punch or hear it proclaimed as art
But it speaks for every Tommy whoever played his part
In every grim fiasco that tore his life apart
Somewhere at the front, somewhere
(Gary Miller)
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5. |
Grandpa Mill
05:47
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GRANDPA MILL
Grandpa Mill, I see you
As a short but handsome young man
Too young was I to understand
The pain and suffering you went through
Sitting on your lovely horse
Before the mustard gas attacked you
Through your long years, what could you do
But face it bravely of course
I remember many things
The short, sharp bark when you laughed
The clean white hanky that sponged away the tears
But most of all, I recall my love for you
Grandpa, dry your eyes
Let me take the pain away
I never once heard you complain
Grandpa, dry your eyes
And Grandpa, through the years
I recall your winning smile
You kept joking all the while
Grandpa, through the tears
I remember many things…
Playing cards on rainy days
Then a change upon your face
Abject misery mixed with rage
Let me take the pain away
Now I’m older and you’re gone
You fought your battles through the years
I never understood your moods then
But I do now
I remember many things…
(Gary Miller)
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6. |
Battleships
03:04
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BATTLESHIPS
A brooding menace ’neath ghostly clouds
A monstrous image of war
Mask-like, cold and inhuman
Far from a civilized shore
“This is our great navy
Britannia rules the waves
Sending all our foes to flight
Or down into watery graves”
Behemoths symbolic of military might
A mechanical horror displayed
It’s war at a distance, powerful, aggressive
A warning sign: “Be afraid”
“This is our great navy…”
Everything is faded battleship gray
The sky is heavy, like lead
Ominous, waiting, the Winter Sea
A landscape fit for the dead
“This is our great navy…”
A sense of security, fearless, remorseless
So the public feel safe in their homes
A show of strength, moving forward, relentless
An unstoppable machine heaves and groans
“This is our great navy…”
(Gary Miller)
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7. |
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A HOSPITAL SHIP AT TOBRUK
Reading your memoirs transported me
Across the years over Time’s rolling sea
Of the salt sea air and its smells I partook
As I stood on a hospital ship at Tobruk
You gave me a feel for the casualty rate
They were shovelling them out in increasing spate
Just one theatre of operations on which I did look
As I stood on a hospital ship at Tobruk
I witnessed the bombardment; I saw the shells burst
I tasted the blood; I was choking from thirst
I heard a machinegun go rat-a-tat-tat
To the beat of your resolute heart
“You are real, you’re a woman!” a young laddie cried
You became real to me as I read of your trials
An angel in white, tending her flock
Of wounded on a hospital ship at Tobruk
So standing there ’midst the sights and the smells
My senses experiencing part of the hell
Just a small part of you, I trembled and shook
As I stood on a hospital ship at Tobruk
Then back to the present safely I stand
There is still part of you I can touch with my hand
Your cape and your medals, your portrait so fine
Gazing out at me out of time
(Gary Miller)
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8. |
Yellow Bird
03:38
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YELLOW BIRD
Oh what has become of your gentle hands
That softly caressed a love so dear?
Now chemically stained and rough like sand
They caress mute packages of death and fear
On the Devil’s Altar behold each shell
Swing the mallet; force the powder in
Make them ready to deliver a gift from Hell
Pray your own luck is in
And sing my yellow bird sing
Oh what has become of your delicate face
That broke the hearts of the boys so dear?
So milk-white soft with a porcelain grace
Before the boys all marched from here
To remember you just as you were
Many never to return
Before your health was ruined beyond repair
And you watched your future burn
Sing my yellow bird sing
So far from the effect
You fight for the cause
Steadfast on your alternate frontline
For excitement, for the money, or to do your bit
Or to live up to the boys
To whom you waved goodbye
Oh what has become of your beautiful mind?
Tell me now how do you view the world?
Through the warlike nature of humankind
And your own contentment in your dangerous work
Do you see the devastation in your dreams?
Are you wracked and torn with guilt?
Or has your heart grown immune to the nightmare screams
Of an innocence that can never be rebuilt?
Sing my yellow bird sing
For the Barnbow Lassies and the Gretna Girls
The Woolwich Arsenal gang aswell
And all those munitionettes who fell
From England, Ireland, Scotland, Wales
To their counterparts on the whole world stage
“Grant them O Lord eternal rest
And let perpetual light shine upon them”
Sing my yellow bird sing
Sing of the peace that the dove may bring
Take wing my yellow bird take wing
Take heart, risk flight, break out of your cage
Roam free in the light where wars don’t rage
Never worry about a thing
And sing my yellow bird sing
(Gary Miller)
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9. |
Soldiers of the Lord
03:44
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SOLDIERS OF THE LORD
Over ‘No Man’s Land’ march the Ghosts of Agincourt
Keeping time with bows in hand as the big guns pound and roar
We are unafraid like the brave old knights of yore
We are soldiers of the Lord
Every side is singing its own battle hymn
Whether British, French or German we’ve all put our faith in Him
When God is on your side the other side can’t win
We are soldiers of the Lord
Whether Saint George charging with his sword up in the air
Or Joan of Arc with her flaming hair
With an angel and a prayer we will not despair
We are soldiers of the Lord
The pieces are moving; the knights are in the sky
The King is in his counting house far behind the lines
We are simply pawns, made to do or die
We are soldiers of the Lord
Whether Saint George charging…
The Spirit of War amidst a dazzling light
Lifts our hearts and puts our enemies to flight
Donkeys bray and we charge with a lion’s might
We are soldiers of the Lord
Whether Saint George charging…
With a need for signs and wonders an urban myth takes wing
Behind a choir of angels we sing-a-ling-a-ling
Let the Bells of Hell go ting-a-ling-a-ling
We are soldiers of the Lord
Whether Saint George charging…
(Gary Miller)
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10. |
One Soldier's Thoughts
04:38
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ONE SOLDIER’S THOUGHTS
I just called round to say farewell
For they’re sending us soon deep into Hell
Where the hot baking sun offers you no respite
Until your bones chill to ice in the cold desert night
I just want to give you a few of my thoughts
Whether or not you think that I ought
To be doing my duty and if I should go
Well this is my life; it’s all that I know
Now don’t be alarmed at this state that I’m in
I may have ballooned but in time I’ll be thin
They’ve just fattened us up for the trials ahead
Like slaughterbound lambs to the abattoir led
All those close to me have trials of their own
So they mustn’t know this fear that I feel
I’ll laugh and I’ll joke and make light of it all
And pretend that it just isn’t real
I hope there’s enough body armour to spare
Those who send us care nothing about our welfare
Despite tanks, helicopters and predator drones
We’re under-equipped, fed by lies and alone
In this war of aggression we’re just pawns in their game
Placed on the frontline for death or for blame
Human shields, human misery, atrocities galore
Do our leaders share my reflections on war?
When I come home they might dress me in shorts
With no need for shoes when my ticket’s been bought
No more like a fool for the last bus to run
But knowing that two legs are better than none
I seek neither glory nor undying fame
Neither medals nor honours so grand
Just to return through fate or God’s will if I can
Home from Afghanistan
So please don’t miss me when I’m gone
Pray for us who into this maelstrom are hurled
While I dream of those dearest to me
And pray for peace in a better world
(Gary Miller)
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Gary Miller Durham, UK
Gary Miller first rose to international prominence with folk-punk/rock pioneers The Whisky Priests (1985-2002), founded with his twin brother Glenn - “the Joe Strummer and Mick Jones of Folk Music". He now performs as a solo artist and with his new band 'Gary Miller's Big Picture' whose debut album is coming soon. ... more
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