'Dark Neuve Chapelle'

'Dark Neuve Chapelle'

Many fighting men wrote poetry as a means of communication with those back home. Numerous poems were written about the experiences they had at Neuve Chapelle.

This poem by an Argyll and Sutherland Highlander was published in The Alloa Journal on 8 May 1915:

Dark Neuve Chapelle

Ah! Far frae their mountain girt hames they are sleepin',
They died for their Country our brave, gallant men,
But the women and children at home, they are weepin',
For the husbands and fathers they'll ne'er see again.

Oh, the swing o' the kilt, how it sets the tears startin',
Tho' a' glamorous aboot it that maks the he'rt swell
For there's mony a braw lad that wore the gay tartan,
Lies asleep in his cauld bed at Dark Neuve Chapelle.

Oh, wild hills o' Scotland when spring's charms enfold ye,
Oh, moors growin' green 'neath spring's magical spell.
There's mony an e'e that was wont to behold ye,
Is closed now forever at dark Neuve Chapelle.

There's mony a voice that would sound o'er the heather,
When it's deep purple waves rolled o'er hill and o'er fell
Will sound there no more, for, silent forever,
Oor brave lads lie sleepin' at dark Neuve Chapelle.

On the grave at home here, the spring flowers are creepin'
For the kind he'rts that love them have tended them well,
But there's nae twender Scottish he'rts near to be keepin'
A watch on the new graves at dark Neuve Chapelle.

Oh, lads o' the tartan, no more ye'll be turnin'
To the land where your dyin' eyes looked as ye fell,
But there's mony a woe he'rt in Scotland is mournin'
For the lads that are lyin' at dark Neuve Chapelle

                                                                                                                                 J.Y.

 

British Troops advancing at night at Neuve Chapelle.