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
