Lest We Forget

[smokingboot]

I put a poem up every year around now. Doesn't matter to me if this is a mawkish habit, I do it. I choose a poem that reaches me in the moment of remembrance. This year the poem is Cha Till Maccruimein (Departure of the 4th Camerons) by Ewart Alan Mackintosh (1893-1917)
https://smokingboot.substack.com/p/lest-we-forget

I put it on my still-don't-know-what-I-am-doing-with-it substack, which works if you want to hear me recite it, but my feeling is that one's own voice works best for this. I have read Cha Till Maccruimein many times, but for some reason right now it makes me shudder and grow cold.

May war never touch you. May you and your folk ever come home.

Cha Till Maccruimein*
(Departure of the 4th Camerons)

The pipes in the streets were playing bravely,
The marching lads went by
With merry hearts and voices singing
My friends marched out to die;
But I was hearing a lonely pibroch
Out of an older war,
Farewell, farewell, farewell, MacCrimmon,
MacCrimmon comes no more.'

And every lad in his heart was dreaming
Of honour and wealth to come,
And honour and noble pride were calling
To the tune of the pipes and drum;
But I was hearing a woman singing
On dark Dunvegan shore,
In battle or peace, with wealth or honour,
MacCrimmon comes no more.'

And there in front of the men were marching
With feet that made no mark,
The grey old ghosts of the ancient fighters
Come back again from the dark;
And in front of them all MacCrimmon piping
A weary tune and sore,
On gathering day, for ever and ever,
MacCrimmon comes no more.'

Ewart Alan Mackintosh (1893-1917)

Comments

[mallorys_camera]

❤️❤️❤️

[flemmings]

Yeah. Chills.

[smokingboot]

Definitely, whenever I read it, somehow I hear it too.

[smokingboot]

And to you dear Patrizia XXX