Poems from J Dingwall

Little Drops of Water

Little drops of water

Little drops of sand

Make the German Ocean

And our British Land.


Little dreams of Empire

(Castles on the sand)

Added Briton’s country

To Der Vaterland


Little bluff of Wilhelm

-War Lord Great and High –

Deutschland ueber alles

Made the Teuton cry


‘Little Willie’ looting

Where he found a way

Followed Father’s footsteps

Brother’s let us prey


Little bits of Kultur

“Made in Germany”

Wrought a lot of Mischief

For Humanity

J. Dingwall. 18.11.1916

Couronne Heights, Salonika

On the ninth day of May the weather was fine,

The Scots Fusiliers held the right of the line.

In front of Couronne we took up our stand,

Determined to pierce that well fortified land.


The big Guns had battered throughout the long day

To make sure no obstacle stood in our way,

And the town of Doran looked a beautiful sight

Lit up by the flare-lights, red, green and white.


The Bugler relied for his country’s sake –

All depends on that hill by the side of the lake

And no cleaner fighter has handled the gun;

Take notice you Turk and uncivilised Hun.

Three times he countered and ably was led,

But each time repulsed by the Scottish Brigade.

No coward was he it was plain to be seen

As his dead lay in hundreds along the ravine.


The brave Fusiliers tho’ young in the name

Were eager to add more glory and fame

And uphold the regiment, cost what it may,

To add to their honours the ninth day of May.

Led by our Captain of honourable name

Well know in history as Claverhouse Graham.

“Over the parapet boys!’ was the cry.

No nobler death could a Fusilier die.


Over they went with an elegant cheer,

No face that I scanned had the least sign of fear.

Through a torrent of shell and blinding searchlights,

We gained all the trenches in front of the heights.

These young campaigners, I am proud to say,

Will live long in history for many a day.

The deeds they performed for their country’s sake

On the slopes of Couronne alongside the lake.


If fathers and mothers have cause to mourn

When peace is declared and their boys don’t return,

Remember the cause their young lives were given.

‘Tis their comrades wish’ they meet you in heaven.


So all you critics of paper-like fame

That say we sleep by the lake of Doran,

You might drop your pen and do more with your gun;

That’s the easiest way to get rid of the Hun.

Composed by one of the boys in the 8th Royal Scots Fusiliers, Salonika

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