TONI By Bob Auld

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Hughie
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TONI By Bob Auld

Post by Hughie »

TONI

This is a tale of a knight of old
A poor knight with a heart of gold
Not really gallant or even bold
But very very wise
Who fitted himself to a Stinston mould
Until his demise

He'll ever be fresh in my memories
Whenever I have time to spend in ease
Thoughts fly back tho often to tease
For some are phoney
But among the many that always please
Are of 'Ice Cream Toni.'

In our childhood days it all began
As around his barrow we blithely ran
It might have been the voice of Pan
Everyone an honoured guest
'Da ica da cream, for oor wee man'
Everyone an honoured guest

From far off Cervaro he brought a smile
Steeped in the sunshine of every mile
Tho he lingered in Airdrie a while
Fate played its part
Directing his steps with a wooing guile
To the Boglemart

Twas around hineteen hundred and one
When Mary Rossi he wooed and won
Every day was bright life full of fun
Friends were many
That's how the web is usually spun
Round a Dobbin and Jennie

Yet time brought days o'ercast with fear
With just a sprinkling of· good cheer
But thro it all he was to endear
Himself in our eyes.
To auld Stinston Folk he had no peer
And that's no surprise

Happily for years he plodded along
With a step so light a heart so strong
Until war with its maddened throng
Set the world agley
In all our teachings what went wrong
That September day

Sadly they came and took him away
To an internment camp that very day
War knows no friends of yesterday
Tomorrow you may die.
Fear stricken mobs you can easily sway
When spirits run high

His hopeless shrug and unsmiling face
Deep shrunken eyes gazing in to space
So full of concern so out of place
For one so kind
He knew then that war is a disgrace
And we all are blind.

Yet when peace chased the cobwebs away
And we had enough of shame and dismay
He came quietly back among us to stay
To share our sorrow
And welcome his own back from the fray
For a brighter tomorrow

Years have past since that sad day
His broken heart came home to stay
Now he sleeps in our cold Scots clay
Where all troubles cease.
Here we all must meet in a friendly way
At last in peace

I don't kneel alone when I quietly pray
Nor do I think I boast in what I say
His was a good a finely tempered clay
Which is a heavenly thing
That's why his memory still lives today
Fresh as a mountain spring
Catherine Belle
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Post by Catherine Belle »

I'm going to have to read up on my history. I didn't know that Britain sent people to internment camps. If I was taught it in school, I don't remember... :oops:
Yet another bittersweet memory of long ago Stevenston, via Bob Auld.
Thanks for sharing, Hughie, and keep em coming...
Be kind. Everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle.
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