Come keep me company a while

Upon this mountain I lay

Pour yourself a hot brew

Tell me all about your day


Il patiently listen

I’m not going anywhere

When you’ve told me your story

Il make you aware


Of the minefields around

Trip wires and booby traps

So take your pack of your back

Sit down and relax


I’m from Glasgow my friend

You can call me Jock

I was killed on this hill

There’s  the hole in my smock


I’m not alone 

There are twelve guardsmen here

We got to the top

There’s no foe that we fear 


When you go back to Scotland

Tell your pals about us

We will never leave our post

Do our duty we must


The sun is almost down

Your path downwards is clear

I hope you come back one day

To visit us here.



© Tony McNally

Author's Notes/Comments: 

A fallen soldier on Tumbledown mountain in the Falklands chats with a stranger.

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a.griffiths57's picture

    What a creative way to



What a creative way to commemorate fallen friends in battle. A sensitive but straight forward poem. Liked your tale and poem well written.




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