Phantom Of The Somme Poem by Alex Cairnie

I recall a distant memory, of the time I spent at war
I often wonder what the point, what really was it for
But something else remembered too, even now it brings a chill
The piper at the gates of dawn, to this day I hear him still

We had heard him many times before, so clear in the dead of night
Though when we woke, not a word was spoke, so not to admit our fright
Each man the same but too ashamed, to say his thoughts out loud
Humiliation not a joke, to soldiers young and proud

For weeks on end his pipes they roared, our friend our phantom host
And when the mist rose from the forward lines, he appeared to us a ghost
His playing warmed us to the bone, a salute to all our lost
The last farewell to those who gave, their all at such a cost

They hit our flanks with heavy fire, and shells came down like rain
It brought some kind of solitude, to those who died in pain
And every cold and bloody night, yes there it was the same
For every man the pipes they roared, to end the evenings game

I climbed upon the gunners mount the music carried on
And just like that he disappeared And the music it was gone
This phantom piper of the Somme so haunting as I dreamed
And to a man we all agreed, a ghost he was, it seemed

The years that past revealed the truth, we thought us just the few
Alas our eyes had not been fooled, the Germans saw him too
And rationale seemed all but lost, but what we saw was real
And to this day my heart stills warms, when his lament I do feel

I wondered who this man could be, and why he felt the urge
I thank him now for all the souls, of men his playing purged
The sun came up on armistice, as if the words to say
Once more we were accompanied, our friend who there did play

A haunting stirring melody, filled azure skies with joy
To comfort those going home as men, who came to France a boy
We said farewell and gave our thanks, for us all his song did bless
And said goodbye forever more, to the war and all it's mess

AC