8/11/4
– the
US
onset on Fallujah fell the day in ful force.
Fair at the
dauner thare I
wis
, Fallujah mercat wey
aa doun
whaur the causey
wis
thrang
wi a hairst
o wemen an weans aa bits
I chanced
owre the ae face that didna belang,
– efter a
shog, an a teug at ma burnous –
an steikit
til ma elbuck thare
wis
Little Joe.
I wad hae
spoken, but he
wis
aff at the rin
wi a pairtin
risp o his wabbin velcro.
An Little
Joe says til a lootenant o mines:
“I am
buhlet brave, sir, but the mither o ill
claucht at
ma claes the nou, an I’m fey-seik
faa’n; she
glowert, an her leuk wad kill Bill.
I need ti be
history, boss, in a Hummer,
for she is
daith til me, or daith’s waur marra.
O post me
hyne awa, an I will drive or fire a gun,
an dree aa
dangers in
Samarra
.”
“Gie me a
Bradley, chief pal, an lat me blaw.
Daith’s
waur marra’s jeelin mines’s cauld;
fae iver the
daurk leddie drew me the leuk
I’m smat
wi dreid the truith be tauld.
Chopper me
oot, at the rooty-toot-toot
an I will
flie at fechtin fae lik onie arra.
I am bomb
brave, wee potus, but canna be daein wi this!”
An the
lootenant signt him his line for
Samarra
.
An I
forgaithert wi ma lootenant sune as syne,
an he
wis
blue on blue, fragged oot, in girnie tid.
“Whit gart
ye pit the fleg in Little Joe?” quo he –
“He
sodgered ye nae ill.” Says I, “I neiver did –
but I
wis
juist surprised ti see him here the day.”
I straikit a
whet o ma tongue frae the heft o horn,
rid tang til
dreepin pynt o ma heuk, an sayed:
“In
Samarra
, I hae a tryst wi Little Joe the morn.”
John Law
|