Maybe he had a bit of a 'ruck' with Gran
They haunt me aye by night from morn till dewy night
They dim my ear with echoes drear they give me no reprieve
Their grim shapes rise before mine eyes alike in bath or bed they rob
My breast of all its rest those things I might have said
The smart reply, the timely lie, the plausible, the cutting jest
The sally direct in eloquent abuse –now one and all without my call
Hit madly through my brain, months and months to late for
Chance or fate to stage the scenes again why should it be
When maud twits at me that I but stand and stare and rack my mind
In vain to find the quip that is there; my brain is blank
My words are blank reply I cannot see yet where she fled
My timberhead just teems with repartee
Time moves to fast my wits out classed it cannot
Last the pace, my bat like eyes cannot decry what stares
Me now in the face. Wherefore the more I ponder o’er
The moments that have sped the more I wail without avail
The Things I Might have Said
F.A.I 1917
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