Buchan 1917

As Armistice Day approaches I have in mind some blips to do with wars past.

Today, a photograph of Buchan, the North East corner of Aberdeenshire, at its most dramatic, together with a poem written in the Doric about a Tommy fighting in Flanders in the First World War wishing that he were safely back hame.

Buchan 1917

Buchan! Ye're bare an' bleak an' cauld like the coast around ye,
Wi' its auld grey rocks.
Nae a tree or a burn or a hull or a bus tae hap ye
Fae the winter's shocks!

But ye're nae sae bare an' bleak an' cauld as the plain o' Flanders,
Wi' its shell-scarred skull.
And och! I wad rise and rin te whaur the fish-wife wanders,
And the hungry gull.

John C. Milne

Buchan! You are bare and bleak and cold like the coast around you,
With its old grey rocks.
Not a tree or a stream or a hill or a cattle-shelter to shelter you
From the winter's blows.

But you're not so bare and bleak and cold as the plain of Flanders,
With its shell-scared skull.
And sorrow! I would rise and and run to where the fish-wife wanders,
And the hungry gull.