It were smashin' when eawr dad come whoam
After two – three pints at t'local
He'd sit in th'armcheer next to t'fire
Aw eloquent an' vocal,
Then talk for hours on t'Fost Wold War,
Of Tommies dead an' gone,
We'd duck wi' him as shells whizzed past,
Rejoice at battles won,
An' walk through trenches thick wi' mud,
Learn words like 'Kammerad',
So on most Sundays came the cry
"Show us thi medals, dad!"
He'd geet five on 'em in a box,
He'd hand one to each son
Five pairs of hands caressed 'em
As he described each one.
"That's when me leg geet done", he'd say,
"Them flamin' Gerry snippers!
Jackie Ball geet killed t'same day
In a place as we cawd 'Wipers'
"He were nobbut seventeen", he'd sigh,
"A strappin' Billinge lad".
We was often sadder after sayin'
"Show us thi medals, dad!"
Mind yo, his humour were a treat,
It weren't aw death an' shells,
He towd us beltin' yarns abeawt
Yon famous Dardanelles.
One cowd day he copped a German,
"Ach! Gott Mit uns", he cried.
"Tha lucky – Ah've no gloves nor nowt!"
Eawr shiverin' dad replied.
"Ah thowt as he said 'mittens'!"
Dad explained, we laughed like mad!
He towd every time we said,
"Show us thi medals, dad!"
Him an' Harry Waterworth
Pinched a pig one neet.
"We geet fed up wi' eytin rats,
It's time we had a treat!"
An' we'd gasp "Rats?" an' he'd say "Aye –
Get thissen a bet on,
We chased it aw reawnd Flanders fields,
Until it geet a sweat on,
An' t' Battalion dipped their bread in it!
It didn't taste so bad!"
Aye, tears an' laughter allus followed
"Show us thi medals, dad!"
Th'owd chap died a few month back,
T'lads didn't skrike - we thowt
He'll be wi' Jack an' Harry
Talkin' Army days no doubt,
Eawr mam give us a medal each,
We cherish 'em wi' pride,
By god, when she bequeathed 'em
That's when we really cried.
Tha reads o' medals auctioned neaw
For paltry sums, it's sad,
Tha can't go selling' memories - nay,
We'll keep tho medals, dad!