The River Kwai: For The 2nd Battalion Gordon Highlanders (Scots) Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Kanchanaburi's green an quate. The sun, sae hett it stouns
In birsslin drouth, in frozen youth, the deid men makk nae souns
A poppy here, a garlan there, rich scents each grave festoons
Peace ower the grun..bit dearly won bi the Daith Railway loons.

Far fae the teuchit's dweeble wheep's the skreichin o baboons
An here the Thai, alang the Kwai tend weel the Gordon loons.
They didna dee far bullets flee. Their war brocht ither wouns
Far dysentry kept company wi rain as big's dubloons

Aside the Kwai the smilin Thai in bricht sarongs an gouns
Sell mango slice an tea wi ice, wi orchids at their crouns.
Thailan's the larder o the East. It wyles awa the pouns
There wis nae beer nor buffet here, fin coorseness kent nae bouns

An fin the jungle lowsed its rage, the peetiless monsoons
Cholera, typhoid thinned the ranks ben bitter nichts an noons
A different fecht, a different airt, fae Waterloo's dragoons
Maleria gied the Deid Thraa tae the Daith Railway loons.

The war's lang gaen. They bide alane. Nae wives aside them lie.
Bricht butterflees abeen them heeze, as sufferin ower an by.
Culloden, Flodden, Bannockburn..grim pipers play the tunes
The leaders o a nation screive tae mobilise platoons

Is liberty as gweed a cause tae dee fur as the lave?
Nane kens, dry banes haud nae discourse that full a sodjer's grave.
Kanchanaburi's green an quate. Noo, fyew are left tae greet,
Far thistles fell...Bit merk them weel..The wins o peace are sweet