Dad's Medals
John Howarth voice; Gerry Kearns guitar; Larry Kearns mandolin
It were smashin’ when eawr dad come whoam
After two – three pints at t’local
He’d sit in th’armcheer next to t’fire
Aw eloquent an’ vocal,
Then talk for hours on t’Fost Wold War,
Of Tommies dead an’ gone,
We’d duck wi’ him as shells whizzed past,
Rejoice at battles won,
An’ walk through trenches thick wi’ mud,
Learn words like ‘Kammerad’,
So on most Sundays came the cry
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
He’d geet five on ‘em in a box,
He’d hand one to each son
Five pairs of hands caressed ‘em
As he described each one.
“That’s when me leg geet done”, he’d say,
“Them flamin’ Gerry snippers!
Jackie Ball geet killed t’same day
In a place as we cawd ‘Wipers’
“He were nobbut seventeen”, he’d sigh,
“A strappin’ Billinge lad”.
We was often sadder after sayin’
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
Mind yo, his humour were a treat,
It weren’t aw death an’ shells,
He towd us beltin’ yarns abeawt
Yon famous Dardanelles.
One cowd day he copped a German,
“Ach! Gott Mit uns”, he cried.
“Tha lucky – Ah’ve no gloves nor nowt!”
Eawr shiverin’ dad replied.
“Ah thowt as he said ‘mittens’!”
Dad explained, we laughed like mad!
He towd every time we said,
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
Him an’ Harry Waterworth
Pinched a pig one neet.
“We geet fed up wi’ eytin rats,
It’s time we had a treat!”
An’ we’d gasp “Rats?” an’ he’d say “Aye –
Get thissen a bet on,
We chased it aw reawnd Flanders fields,
Until it geet a sweat on,
An’ t’ Battalion dipped their bread in it!
It didn’t taste so bad!”
Aye, tears an’ laughter allus followed
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
Th'owd chap died a few month back,
T'lads didn't skrike - we thowt
He'll be wi' Jack an' Harry
Talkin' Army days no doubt,
Eawr mam give us a medal each,
We cherish 'em wi' pride,
By god, when she bequeathed 'em
That's when we really cried.
Tha reads o' medals auctioned neaw
For paltry sums, it's sad,
Tha can't go selling' memories - nay,
We'll keep tho medals, dad!
By Cliff Gerrard
Arrangement © Oldham Tinkers
It were smashin’ when eawr dad come whoam
After two – three pints at t’local
He’d sit in th’armcheer next to t’fire
Aw eloquent an’ vocal,
Then talk for hours on t’Fost Wold War,
Of Tommies dead an’ gone,
We’d duck wi’ him as shells whizzed past,
Rejoice at battles won,
An’ walk through trenches thick wi’ mud,
Learn words like ‘Kammerad’,
So on most Sundays came the cry
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
He’d geet five on ‘em in a box,
He’d hand one to each son
Five pairs of hands caressed ‘em
As he described each one.
“That’s when me leg geet done”, he’d say,
“Them flamin’ Gerry snippers!
Jackie Ball geet killed t’same day
In a place as we cawd ‘Wipers’
“He were nobbut seventeen”, he’d sigh,
“A strappin’ Billinge lad”.
We was often sadder after sayin’
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
Mind yo, his humour were a treat,
It weren’t aw death an’ shells,
He towd us beltin’ yarns abeawt
Yon famous Dardanelles.
One cowd day he copped a German,
“Ach! Gott Mit uns”, he cried.
“Tha lucky – Ah’ve no gloves nor nowt!”
Eawr shiverin’ dad replied.
“Ah thowt as he said ‘mittens’!”
Dad explained, we laughed like mad!
He towd every time we said,
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
Him an’ Harry Waterworth
Pinched a pig one neet.
“We geet fed up wi’ eytin rats,
It’s time we had a treat!”
An’ we’d gasp “Rats?” an’ he’d say “Aye –
Get thissen a bet on,
We chased it aw reawnd Flanders fields,
Until it geet a sweat on,
An’ t’ Battalion dipped their bread in it!
It didn’t taste so bad!”
Aye, tears an’ laughter allus followed
“Show us thi medals, dad!”
Th'owd chap died a few month back,
T'lads didn't skrike - we thowt
He'll be wi' Jack an' Harry
Talkin' Army days no doubt,
Eawr mam give us a medal each,
We cherish 'em wi' pride,
By god, when she bequeathed 'em
That's when we really cried.
Tha reads o' medals auctioned neaw
For paltry sums, it's sad,
Tha can't go selling' memories - nay,
We'll keep tho medals, dad!
By Cliff Gerrard
Arrangement © Oldham Tinkers
Vocal John Howarth; Guitar Gerry Kearns; Mandolin Larry Kearns
By Cliff Gerrard
Arrangement © Oldham TinkersFirst published by Topic 1977
Sit Thee Down LP 12TS323 STEREO
Recorded and produced by Tony Engle in London
Notes by Larry Kearns
Sleeve design by Tony Engle
Illustration by John Atkinson
Re-released under licence from Topic Records Ltd, England,
By Pier Records in 2002 on the C.D. “Sit Thee Down” PIERCD 505. Pier Records is a Wooden Hill Recordings Ltd label.
By Cliff Gerrard
Arrangement © Oldham TinkersFirst published by Topic 1977
Sit Thee Down LP 12TS323 STEREO
Recorded and produced by Tony Engle in London
Notes by Larry Kearns
Sleeve design by Tony Engle
Illustration by John Atkinson
Re-released under licence from Topic Records Ltd, England,
By Pier Records in 2002 on the C.D. “Sit Thee Down” PIERCD 505. Pier Records is a Wooden Hill Recordings Ltd label.
LP notes:-Another of Cliff Gerrard’s poems. He has a gift of making people laugh and cry with the same lyric. In Dad’s Medals delivered here by John and accompanied by Gerry and Larry, the fun and the pathos are real and true. A friend of the Oldham Tinkers, an ex-matelot, born on Oldham Edge, currently an eager rugby player and also a police sergeant, was present at the Free Trade Hall once when the trio performed Cliff’s poem. After the concert he admitted to the lads his relief that Dad’s Medals was not the last item before the interval. Had that been the case people would have seen him with tears streaming down his cheeks as the lights came on. Such is the reality of Cliff Gerrard’s poetry.
CD notes:- In this family story, Cliff Gerrard, the author, brought the war in which his father fought, closer to Rainford, St Helens, where he himself was raised and in fact closer to anybody who read or heard his poem. He is a good friend of the trio and has often frequented their concerts over the years. He was particularly pleased that unbeknown to himself the Tinkers had opted for the tunes of “There’s A Long Long Trail A Winding” and “Keep The Home Fires Burning” as background. “Dad’s Medals” is another superb example of Cliff Gerrard’s facility in blending pathos, humour, grief and dignity.
CD notes:- In this family story, Cliff Gerrard, the author, brought the war in which his father fought, closer to Rainford, St Helens, where he himself was raised and in fact closer to anybody who read or heard his poem. He is a good friend of the trio and has often frequented their concerts over the years. He was particularly pleased that unbeknown to himself the Tinkers had opted for the tunes of “There’s A Long Long Trail A Winding” and “Keep The Home Fires Burning” as background. “Dad’s Medals” is another superb example of Cliff Gerrard’s facility in blending pathos, humour, grief and dignity.