This poem was first published in May of 1917 in the “Groat” and simply called “


“The Mither”


I’m prayin’ wi’ the love for the ending o’ the war,


aye prayin’ that the Lord‘ll send us victory soon.


But ma hert is sair tae burstin aneath its hidden scar,


and peace I ken will bring to me fresh opening o’ ma wound.


For peace’ll mean that ither fowk will welcome back their ain,


an gled herts’ll be rejoicing o’er the laddies a’ come hame.


For me an’ mine no laddie blithe will e’er come back again,


and ma hert is sair wi’ envy, tho’ I say it tae ma shame


Oh I can hear the cheerin’ that’ll greet them when they come


can see the flags aflying and hear the pipers play,


See the bairnies keepin’ step till the beatin’ o the drum,


and merchin by their brithers side an’ whistlin’ a’ the way.


An now they’re comin’ doon the close in fowers an’ threes or twa,


an droppin intil neighbours doors, bit nane’ll come till mine.


An Mithers airms aboot them ………………. Ma empty airms doon fa’;


nae bairn o’ mine will fill them mair on this side o’ time.


Oh I dinna grudge the laddies their joyfu’ welcome hame,


we canna gie them thanks enough for a’ that they’ve been through,


But Oh! When you’re rejoicin’, dinna flaunt it just the same.


As in happy days gone by . .there are Mithers greetin’ too.