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FAR, FAR FAR FROM YPRES   SCRIPT

Second Half

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But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy,
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart

 

And the years fly on forever
Till the shadows veil their sighs
But he loves to hold her little hand
And look in her sea blue eyes.
And he sees the rose by the poplars
Where they met in the bygone years
For the first little song of the roses
Is the last little song she hears

 

Roses are shining in Picardy,
In the hush of the silver dew,
Roses are flow'ring in Picardy,
But there's never a rose like you!
And the roses will die with the summertime,
And our roads may be far apart,
But there's one rose that dies not in Picardy,
'Tis the rose that I keep in my heart

Narrator

 

The next song, "The Devonshire Carol" has an elegant message; forgive…..but never forget. It's Christmas 1917 and the Christmas truce of 1914, when soldiers on both sides put down their weapons, exchanged presents and played football….. is well in the past. Yet to some who still believed, to some ….peace walks upon this blessed land……

 

The Devonshire Carol

The lambkin in the manger the light upon the lea

The moorland yields to glory the shepherds bend the knee

And all are wrapped in grace and all are gifted mirth

Peace walks upon this blessed land

Peace walks upon this blessed land

Peace walks upon this blessed land

Goodwill upon all Earth

              The ploughboy and his traces, the line upon the land

              All's gift by Nature's graces her bounty to command

              And all are wrapped in grace and all are gifted mirth

              Peace walks upon this blessed land

              Peace walks upon this blessed land

              Peace walks upon this blessed land

              Goodwill upon all Earth

Tommy in the meadow,Tommy in the byre

Tommy on the firestep,Tommy on the wire

And those who walked in war and those who walked in peace

And those who walked this blessed land

And those who walked this blessed land

And those who walked this blessed land

Their souls shall never cease.

              Stand to, me bonny lads, stand to and make you ready

              Stand to, me bonny lads, hold the line right steady.

              Let pride burn through the flame, this day….. shall…. bear…. your…. name

              Stand to, me bonny lads, hold the line right steady

And those who walked in war and those who cherished peace

And those who walked this blessed land

And those who walked this bless….ed……. land

And those who walked this blessed land

Their souls shall never cease.

 

 

Narrator

As the war reached the closing exchanges in the winter of 1918, young Jimmy MacDonald was exhausted…and he was bitter. The flag-waving and expectations of victory from home did nothing to dispel his hatred of those who had sent him to war.  He also had a firm conviction that those who had missed the conflict, had been dealt the better hand

I Wore a Tunic E (2D)                            

I wore a tunic, a dirty khaki tunic

And you wore your civvy clothes.

We fought and bled at Loos

While you were on the booze

The booze that no-one here knows

Oh you were with the wenches

While we were in the trenches

Facing an angry foe.

Oh you were a-slacking

While we were attacking

The Germans on the Menin Road

TOM WITH CONCERTINA INTO C    

Far Far From Wipers C

Far, far from Wipers, I long to be.

Where German snipers can't get at me,

Damp is my dug-out, cold are my feet.

Waiting for whizz-bangs to send me to sleep.

When This Bloody War is Over G

When this bloody war is over

No more soldiering for me

When I get my civvy clothes on

Oh how happy I will be                                                                                                  

     No more Church parades on Sunday

     No more asking for a pass

     I will tell the sergeant major

     To stick his passes up his arse

All unison

When this bloody war is over

No more soldiering for me

When I get my civvy clothes on

Oh how happy I will be

    I will sound my own reveille

    I will make my own tattoo

    No more NCOs to curse me

    No more bleedin’ army stew

All harmony

When this bloody war is over

No more soldiering for me

When I get my civvy clothes on

Oh how happy I will be                                                                                                                                         

 

When this bloody war is over

No more soldiering for me

When I get my civvy clothes on

Oh how happy I will be

 

Concertina plays on and fades

Narrator

The war had just ended and yet one of Scotland's cruellest tragedies happened in the early hours of January 1st, 1919. His Majesty's yacht, Iolaire, foundered on rocks, in sight of the Stornoway harbour lights, and 174 Lewismen and 7 Harrismen, who had fought bravely in the war for four years, were drowned within a mile of safety.

 In the war, the Western Isles casualty rate per head of population was the highest in the British Army. Dòmhnall Ruadh was a Gaelic poet, born on North Uist in 1887. In the autumn of 1916, he was in the 7th Battalion of the Cameron Highlanders and was badly wounded on the Somme. An Eala Bhàn is a love song composed during that battle and it is addressed to Mhagaidh Nic Leòid, his sweetheart at the time.

 

An Eala Bhan

Gur duilich leam mar tha mi
'S mo chridhe 'n sas aig bron
Bhon an uair a dh'fhag mi
Beanntan ard a' cheo
Gleanntannan a'mhanrain
Nan loch, nam bagh 's nan srom
'S an eala bhan tha tamh ann
Gach la air 'm bheil mi 'n toir.

Air m' uilinn anns na truinnsichean
Tha m' inntinn ort, a ghraidh;
Nam chadal bidh mi a' bruadar ort
Cha dualach dhomh bhith slan;
Tha m' aigne air a lionadh
Le cianalas cho lan
'S a'ghruag a dh'fhas cho ruadh orm
A nis air thuar bhith ban

Oidhche mhath leat fhein, a ruin
Nad leabaidh chubhraidh bhlath;
Cadal samhach air a chul
Do dhusgadh sunndach slan
Tha mise 'n seo 's an truinnsidh fhuar
'S nam chluasan fuaim bhais
Gun duil ri faighinn as le buaidh -
Tha 'n cuan cho buan ri shnamh.

 

Narrator

 

So why was there so much poetry in the 1st World War? Was it just boredom or was the act of committing memories to paper some kind of necessary therapy. One thing is certain, the soldiers who returned from the Great War found it difficult to tell the stories from these obscene times. The songs and poems tell us much about how the soldiers and families dealt with the pressures of that time but, many were still left with their awful memories

Why Old Men Cry

I walked from Ypres to Passchendale
In the first gray days of spring