A haunting poem suitable for the time of year, actually for any time of the year... The first time I read this I was moved beyond belief, the sentiment is so honest and sobering...
Lament for the Gordons, by David Martin
I sing of the Gordons,
Lament to young soldiers,
Who never came back to the land of their kin,
O Lowland and Highland
On Singapore Island,
Your sons fell for freedom and Bonny Prince Tin!
Be silent now Greenock,
Dundee and Auld Reekie,
And silent the winches on Forth and on Clyde,
When Scotland is sleepin,
Sweet lassies are weepin,
For lads who will never lay down by their side.
How far from Malaya
To snowy Ben Doran?
How far from Lahore to Saltcoats or Ross?
No pipes and orations
On rubber plantations,
O chimes of St Andrew, how far Glasgow cross?
The Gordons are children
Of shipwrights and crofters,
Strong like the storm wind and tender as rain,
O that our cherished
Young eagles have perished,
And none of the gin sodden planters was slain.
I sing to the Gordons,
Lament to brave soldiers,
They will not come home to their land and their wives,
O Lowlands and Highlands,
And all the small islands,
Don't wait for the transport that never arrives.