Corporal Watkins
but love overlooks every offence.
(Proverbs 10:12)
What amazes me is how some people stay as mates.
Why does your quiet, decent sort of character
go out drinkin with a gobby twat?
Like these two characters who came out of the King’s ‘ead,
as we were stoppin and searchin cars in William street,
monitorin the main route into Market square,
where, we’d been briefed, the IRA wanted to bring in a bomb.
Now as customers of the King’s ‘ead these two weren’t Catholics
and as they swaggered out this woman, Wendy, walks past.
She was a Catholic – we knew her name;
she’d trundle into town each day in her shitty old truck
which we kept stoppin so’s to be sure
there was bugger all going to go “bang” in the back.
“You fuckin brit bastards!” she’d wail out her winder –
which made it all more certain we’d stop her again.
Now my guess is Mr Gobby was a some-time UDR soldier
cos he knows her name too an he’s windin her up:
“Wendy, you fat, fenian fucker!”.
His mate’s intervenin, all peace and understandin,
but she smacks him down with one slap –
Mr Peace and Understandin that is! Gobby’s gone,
off down William Street whilst Wendy’s
punchin his poor mate’s well-meaning head
into the pavement. Well now it’s past a joke:
we pull her off, call the cops who cuff her,
shut her up and take her down the station
with our account of the evenin’s entertainment.
The next night’s patrol is not so famous or funny.
Some poor Para’s had his left leg blown off in Belfast.
You’ve got people hootin horns and hangin out of winders jeerin us.
When we stop Wendy she’s laughin too but different –
she’s actually thankin us cold-arse squaddies
for stoppin her gettin too out of order the other night!
And for givin the cops a fair account, which I reckon we did.
But back at camp our platoon commander
is stressin that we’d stepped out of order,
imaginin stories plastered across the press
of Essex soldiers layin into a local lass.
So, I reassured him. He was all right –
spaced out to fuck but that’s officers for you.
It were his first tour and I told him
what I’d say to whoever’s here tonight. If anyone
asks you to explain Northern Ireland
– how it is, was, can be or whatever –
that story tells you nearly all you need to know.
2008