An Accolade

I stud there in awe, harl’y darin’ tae breath,

As the band gane doon by, then the hearse, an’ the wreaths,

We stud there joost watchin’ maist o’ is numb,

Is that al’ that’s left, o’ a dochter or son,

For there’s nathin’ tae say, an’ ther’s nathin’ tae dae,

Whun some creature’s worl’s gettin’ laid in the clay,

There’s nae lukin’ for answers, well nane that mak’ sense,

When the helpin’ o’ ithers wus their only offence.

’Cause whun ye’r in bothewr, or whun ye’r in need,

Ye’r gie gled tae see them arrive at full speed,

Oh! we al’ hae miscae’d them an’ I know that’s true,

Whun the law is a brekkin’ it’s naw me or you.

But for sure I’ll say this, shud I niver say mare,

It’s the yin job I know, whur your kil’t, if ye care,

An’ if history records it; the truth it man tell,

The deeds o’ is al’ forced policin’ tae hell.

Tae see for yersel’ joost hoo low man can go,

Clarie’t in blid, dust an’ dirt, och! I’m sure that ye know,

Hoo cud ye tell folk, the things ye hae seen,

It’ll hant ye for iver ye’ll know whut I mean.

In the quate o’ the nicht, an’ you on yer ane,

It al’ comes bak lashin’ an’ flashin’ again,

For lets joost mak it plain, hoo lucky we are,

That you’se hel’ the circle an’ stapp’t civil war.

For all o’ mae life it wus handed me down,

Tae kerry wae pride the harp an’ the crown,

An’ whun the roll’s cal’t, at the en’ o’ al’ time,

Ye can stan’ just an proud in yer place in the line.

Dinnae be cross wae me, lamentin’ yer loss,

Your hurt’ll naw hale, even wae yer George Cross,

Och! I know al’ the medals an’ honours yer’e geen,

Wull niver mak up for the horrors yev’e seen.

The grave yerd is quate noo, still neath the clouds,

Yer ane heart ye hear batin’ tho, ye stan in a crowd

An ye try tae stap shakin’ yer’e mooth is bone dry,

An’ a volley o’ shots, rips open the sky.

The piper sae slowly lamentin’ he plays,

Aw! God wull ye help me tae get through this day,

Three hunner an’ mare we hae kerriet this wie,

Aw! God if ye’re oot there, wull ye let nae mare die.

Because o’ the circumstance they fun thersel in,

We’re naw tae be min’in’ them! God that’s a sin!

Wae hell brekin’ roon is, oor fem’lys an’ hames,

It wus hard, aye! Damp’t hard, for tae keep oorsels sane,

So kerry them lightly, merch on wae pride,

Howl up ye’r heeds yes hae’s nathin’ tae hide,

Ye micht naw believe me but I’ll sweer that it’s true,

There a heap o’ is leevin’, an that’s doon tae you,

So amangst the betrayel, an’ tears that will be,

All glory an’ thanks tae the brave R.U.C.

Forever in your debt,

A law abidin’ citizen