Ach, Glory Be The coal’s got dear

Ach, Glory Be

 

Ach, Glory Be

 

Ach, Glory Be

The coal’s got dear

And the turf bogs dug clear

Ach Glory Be

What wil ah de

The summer?  Did ye say?

It’s no here!

It must hey took Long Covid or dementia

The wind is whistlin’’ under the dour.

Takin’ a hand at me achin’ arthritis knees

And joints that creaks for

Want o’ heat

 

Ach Glory Be

June roses, expectin’ a bit a heat

Struck down wi’  ‘aplasia

Blooms takin’ flight

White, Yellow, Red heads

Threw up in the air

Like wedding confetti back in the year

Leavin’ ‘roses bald as coots

And the rest o’ the blooms

Shakin’’ in their beds feard

Wind wil’ tak’ a spite at them soon

 

Ach Glory Be

What can ah de?

Knit a pair o’ woolly socks?

Ah nivir could turn that damm heel

Ears wigged aff me for lookin’

Out the windoe no attention paid

Te the plain and the purl

Wish ah had now

Ah could knit mesell a bit o’ heat

 

Ach Glory Be

Wat’s left for me to de

Read me book by the grate

Reddin’ me shinbones by the

Glimmer o’ the peat

Wish for bedtime

For te get a bit a heat

Ach Glory Be

And its summertime

They tell me

Gemma Hill © 2022