best, yes they are my kind.
Norma and Bill, live here in my town, they are known so well
I’m glad they are my friends, when you see us, you can tell
To me, they give me inspiration, to do the things that I do
My writings and my poems, I give to all of you.
The things they do for our town, they are, two of the best,
I’m proud to call them my friends, in their home, I am their guest
A welcome will await you, a coffee in your hand
Bill and Norma to me, are just simply grand.
One day soon, he will write the story of his life
This couldn’t be done, without his loving wife
In his readings you will see, a legacy to be left behind
I am proud they are my friends, yes they are my kind.
I give a special thanks, for being my dear friends
If I can do for you, I freely will to no end.
Eleanor, My Pride and Joy
I’ve traveled this wide country, all across this great land
And met many people, and shook a welcome hand
But none more so than a lady, who was to be my life
And that loving lady, my ever loving wife.
We’ve been to many places, and traveled to places within reach
There’s no place we love better, than our Hawaiian beach
It was there not so long ago, we joined our loving hands
We were joined together, on our fingers, golden bands.
She stands beside me, when I am feeling low
I see that childish grin, then I am all aglow
We have our lives to live, and friends to share it with
We have our ups and downs, we also have our bliss.
She is not just my wife, but a friend very true
And is not just there for me, but also for you
She is the love of my life, a joy to behold
And together we shall be, as we do grow old.
A Mother’s Son
I always wanted to be a soldier, just like my Dad
That’s what his Mum said, about her bonnie wee lad
The years went by, he grew up strong
And still in the Army, is where Jamie longed.
The day came when Jamie sailed away
His Mum on the shore, praying he’d return one day
Jamie wrote to his darlin’ Mum
Hello Mum, this is Jamie your loving son.
The guns are loud, the cannons are screaming
Coming home is what I’m dreaming
I can hear the pipes, I can hear them playing
We’re coming home, they seem to be saying.
The pipes they played for a soldier’s son
Who fought the battle, and fought and won
Jamie’s Mum at the station was waiting
A pain in her heart, the tension was creating.
The crowd that gathered to see their village son
All were there for Jamie’s Mum
The pipes were playing The Battles O’er
As the train pulled in, they opened the carriage door.
The flag draped coffin, was carried shoulder high
As the rifles fired into a cloudless sky
Jamie’s home, he was one of the best
The pipes were playing, as he was laid to rest.
A soldier he was, from the cradle to the grave
For his country’s freedom, his life he gave
Jamie’s home, he was one of the best
The pipes were playing, as Jamie was laid to rest.
As A Boy
Often I think back to when I was a boy, oh so many years ago
Playing as a child in the fields, and in the winter snow
Memories of those days, linger in my heart
One day I will return, to where my childhood did start.
In the old tower, where Bruce once fought
Looking over to Stirling, to where the English, Wallace caught
Raiding the Minister’s apples, and Mum making an apple pie
Old Tom Kettles the cop, would catch us, often make us cry.
Those were the days when life was full of fun
Playing with our friends, at catch and run
Daffodils were my flower, and many I had
Often I got caught stealing, I guess I was bad.
Dad
