It was a matter of millimetres

When I hit the ground 

I got a mouthful of sheep shit

As I heard that `crack` sound

It had your name on it

It should have been mine

But I will never forget you

My Geordie mate from the Tyne

You were only eighteen 

Forever will you remain

Every year I will come and visit

Have a drink just the same

Il will meet you soon in Valhalla

You will see this old man

Take the piss have a laugh

Like when you beet me up Pen y fan

Here have the last of my brandy

As it soaks in your grave

Il wipe away a tear

Green light on…….bye Dave.


© Tony McNally

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The  differnce between living and dying on the battelfield,a matter of centimeters.

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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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Coffee Stained Phone Bill

I'm pining in Limbo. 

Becoming derecpit and swollen in the damning Vestibule. 

Scintillating, squirmy memories of goey boredom that laminated me with a spackle brush; and happiness that came and went so quickly,

it should have been sold to me in a bottle. 

Cigarettes and college jerseys cleave to my naps like a fitted sheet.

Sleep, big woman,

sleep away your worries for your tinkling, cocaine babies.

Sleep little man.

Rub your nose on your corduroy pants.

Do your duty, child.

Lock and load.

Do not tear your tongue away from the window of the bus. 

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