A Thiepval Graveyerd (A tribute in Ulster Scots )

A stud an' A luked ower row fornenst row
God what a sad hervest at Thiepval daes grow,
It luks lake a fiel waitin' tha reaper tae come,
Aw naw this wus tha hervest, an' these fa'len' jest some.


Noo there's cairt loads o' peace in this corner o' France,
Whaur yenst brithar butchered brithar in thon aw'fa' trance,
An' amang a' tha din, tha oaths an' tha prayers,
Ulster's young heroes, wur cut doon in layers.


These young wha had  come frae tha loanins' an' mills,
An mony's a yin frae aroon tha  Knocklayde hills,
Tae dee in tha mud, an' tha shell fire frae Hell,
As tha wurl' wus entranced in tha deil's evil spell.


A thocht o' tha boys frae bonny Aramoy,
Men o' Dervock village an sweet Ballintoy,
Tha syns o' Stranocum wha answired tha caa
Sae mony frae Thiepval, niver come bak ava.


A thocht o' mae granfeyther an' tha sichts thaut hae sa',
These thochts thaut A had made mae seem awfa' sma',
Whun A thocht o' tha time these men spent in Hell,
In God's name, aye mine them, tha brav men wha fell.


A thocht o' tha yins that wur niver tae see,
Their loved yins wha dee'd that this lan' micht be free,
An' tha hardship an' sufferin' thae had year efter year,
Bringen' up a femily, withoot tha man thae loved dear.


A luked ower Thiepval sae peacefu' an' green,
An' thanked God A wus spared thes deh tae hae seen,
This corner o' France whaur tha brave fa’len lie still,
In sicht o' tha Ulster Tower on tha broo o' a hill.


As A wa'ked awa' feelen' baith humble an' proud,
A fun' maesel strayen' frae tha rest o' tha crowd,
An' there on tha edge o' aul' Thiepval Wud
A gret an' a sabbed, whaur brav men yinst stud.


An noo thaut am ba'k in this Province sae gran',
Mae thochts stray tae them that wur willin' tae stan',
An' dee for their freens their kith an' their kin,
Mae wae niver forget them, God kens its a sin.