archie hardie Poems

Wwhen cold November blows it`s bitter deadly breath,
ah`m back wi` ma mates, ma comrades in arms
knee deep in a stinkin` french trench.
Aye, there was Stewart McGregor, an Wullie McTurk,
...

My how I wish I wasn`t growing old,
cos me bones all ache and I surely feels the cold.
wheres me goddam glasses? there on top of your stupid head,
an` your bloody woollen nighty! is underneath the bed.
...

Think on this and weep.

Sad sadie had a hard hard life.
Her heart, once filled with joy,
...

The hubhub, laughter and chatter,
reminiscent of an indian market,
suddenly,
fell silent,
...

Oh woe! oh woe! this growing old,
tis making my life a toil.
From six foot three at twenty one,
I`m down to four foot nought at sixty.
...

He wandered lonely as a cloud,
then suddenly stopped to stand and stare
cos, golly gee! he`d become aware
that both his shoe laces were undone,
...

In olden days, them golden days,
when Shaky were just a pup,
as he walked the mean streets
just who should he meet,
...

My my my, `pon my soul!
Mr. Oliver Hamshanky, sometimes, exclaimed,
to no one in particular.
An` why did he exclaim, 'my my my, pon my soul, '
...