Willie McBride, 2007 edition

[Darth Rotor]

Tom called the other day. We arranged to meet at an Irish Pub. We met today.

Tom's nephew died a few months back in Iraq. We talked about this and that, while the guitarist/vocalist sang a few Irish drinking songs. Appropriate, for a wake, though he had no idea we were celebrating one.

After his second set began, I dug my wallet out of my pocket. I pulled three twenties out of it, and approached the singer's tip jar.

He looked at me.

I put the three twenties into the jar.

"Can you sing for us, please, Willie McBride?"

He looked at me, paused for a moment, and asked one question.

"Why?"

"Tom's nephew died in Iraq back in March, and we'd like to hear you sing it."

He nodded, and began his next song, "Whiskey in the Jar."

I went back to the table and nodded to Tom. We ordered another round of Killian's.

"Whiskey in the Jar" ended. The singer looked at me, eyebrows raised. I stood up.

"Ladies and gentlemen," I began, addressing a roomful of strangers, "Tom's nephew died in Iraq back in March, and I'd be grateful if you'd join me in a glass raised in his honor."

Dead silence.

"Please get the house a round."

That was Tom.

We waited a few minutes while the bartender and waitresses obliged us.

And with a simple turn of my head, and a glance from me, the singer began.

I've known these words by heart for about 25 years. He sang them true, and pure.

Well how do you do, Private William McBride
Do you mind if I sit here down by your grave side?
And I'll rest for awhile in the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day and I'm nearly done.

I see by your gravestone you were only 19
When you joined the dead heroes in 1916.
Well I hope you died quick and I hope you died clean
Or, Willie McBride, was it slow and obscene?

(At this point, Tom and I were in tears)

Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

And did you leave a wife or a sweetheart behind?
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
And though you died back in 1916
To that loyal heart are you forever 19?

Or are you a stranger without even a name
Forever enshrined behind some glass-pane
In an old photograph torn and tattered and stained
And fading to yellow in a brown leather frame?

Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

Well the sun's shining now on these green fields of France,
The warm wind blows gently and the red poppies dance.
The trenches are vanished long under the plough
No gas, and no barbed wire, no guns firing now.

But here in this graveyard it's still No Man's Land
The countless white crosses in mute witness stand.
To man's blind indifference to his fellow man
And a whole generation who were butchered and damned.

Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

And I can't help but wonder now Willie McBride
Do all those who lie here know why they died?
Did you really believe them when they told you the cause?
You really believed that this war would end war?

But the suffering, the sorrow, the glory, the shame -
The killing and dying - it was all done in vain.
For Willie McBride, it's all happened again
And again, and again, and again, and again.

Did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they sound the fife lowly?
Did the rifles fire o'er ye as they lowered you down?
Did the bugles sing 'The Last Post' in chorus?
Did the pipes play 'The Flowers o' the Forest'?

We all raised our glasses, and that was it.

Yes, I chugged Killians through my tears.

I know that this isn't WW I all over again, but damnit, it hurts.

DR

 

[Schneibster]

I hear you, Darth. Here ya go:

http://www.aftermathww1.com/stream/fmcbride.html

 

[Puppycow]

You have my deepest sympathies. Would that it had not been in vain.
That is a beautiful song, and tragic, and true.

 

[Zep]

To Tom's nephew...

 

[MelBrooksfan]

Eric Bogle for the win. Another poignant tune would be his other hit, "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda." Deepest sympathies.

 

[Cleon]

Eric Bogle for the win. Another poignant tune would be his other hit, "And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda." Deepest sympathies.

I was thinking the same thing.

When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murrays green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It's time to stop rambling 'cause there's work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war


And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the cheers
We sailed off to Gallipoli

How well I remember that terrible day
How the blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He chased us with bullets, he rained us with shells
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia


But the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again


Now those that were left, well we tried to survive
In a mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
But around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying



For no more I'll go waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me


So they collected the cripples, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity



And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then turned all their faces away


And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?"
And I ask myself the same question



And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all




Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a waltzing Matilda with me
And their ghosts may be heard as you pass the Billabong
Who'll come-a-waltzing Matilda with me?

 

[Tricky]

Hard to believe he's the same guy who wrote "He's Nobody's Moggie Now".

Somebody's Moggy by the side of the road
Somebody's pussy who forgot his highway code
Someone's favorite feline who ran clean out of luck
When he ran onto the road and tried to argue with a truck

Yesterday he purred and played in his pussy paradise
Decapitating tweetybirds and masticating mice
Now he's just 6 lbs of raw minced meat that don't smell very nice
He's nobody's Moggy now

Oh you who love your pussy be sure to keep him in
Don't let him argue with a truck the truck is bound to win
And upon the busy road don't let him play or frolic
If you do I'm warning you it could be CAT-ostrophic

If he plays out on the roadway I'm afraid that will be that
There'll be one last despairing MEOW and a sort of squelchy SPLAT
And your pussy will be slightly dead and very, very flat
He's nobody's Moggy
Just red and squashed and soggy
He's Nobody's Moggy now

(BTW. "Moggy" is slang for a pet cat.)

***
ETA:
THe missus and I are big Bogleheads. Here's a picture of her with Eric. You can see, Ms. T can hardly believe it.

 

[Hamradioguy]

I have a CD of an unknown (to me- the CD was a home copy from a friend) Irish folk group singing Willie McBride. As macho as I like to think I am I always tear up when I hear that song.

My deepest sympathies to you, and I raise my glass to Tom's nephew.

 

[MelBrooksfan]

I have a CD of an unknown (to me- the CD was a home copy from a friend) Irish folk group singing Willie McBride. As macho as I like to think I am I always tear up when I hear that song.

Nothin' wrong with that. It gets to everyone. Unless they're heartless, anyway.

 

[Schneibster]

I have a CD of an unknown (to me- the CD was a home copy from a friend) Irish folk group singing Willie McBride. As macho as I like to think I am I always tear up when I hear that song.

From the accent, I suspect the link I posted is to that same group, perhaps that same performance.

 

[Boo]

DR,


Put another round on my tab.




Boo

 

[Darth Rotor]

DR,

Put another round on my tab.

Boo

Thanks Boo, I admit I was well into my cups when I posted that. I'll need to detox for about a week before I do that again.
Between the funeral in last week in June, and Friday with Tom, my sadness meter was in the amber, heading to red.

Things are heading back in the proper direction.

DR