Wednesday, 16 August 2017


Tho’ I’m sitting here in Ireland,
   My mind is travelling far,
To a place that’s known as “Somewhere,”
   In the language of the war;
Where the sons of dear old Ulster
   Their spurs of honour won,
And were crowned with fame immortal
   For their deeds of valour done.
            Brave sons of Ulster!
               Heroes every one!
            Fighting for your country
               Till the vict’ry’s won.

And ever o’er the ocean wide
   Our thoughts to “Somewhere” roam,
To where the brave lads nobly fight
   Far away from home, sweet home.
They heard the clarion call of war,
   They went to stand or fall;
For heroes Ulster’s brave sons are,
   God bless them, one and all.
            God bless our soldiers
               As they bravely fight
            For the cause of freedom,
               Gird them with Thy might.

There are sacred spots in “Somewhere,”
   Where the dear ones softly sleep,
And until their Captain calls them
   There the angels vigil keep;
Not a strain of strife disturbs them
   Tho’ the guns fire thund’ring near;
There they sleep until the morning
   When their Captain’s voice they hear.
            All their toil is o’er,
               Now they softly sleep;
            And the angels o’er them
               Still their vigil keep.

Margaret S. Quigg

Poem: The Witness, 17th August 1917