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Sharp Street Shrine, March 2014
It's cold and it's windy
But still that crowd meets
To stand with respect
At the top of Sharp Street.
The Bearers stand at attention
As though shrunken by age
Since those seventy years
When they occupied a world stage.
Now they stand, booted and suited,
With their Medals on display
To pay their respects to
Victims of an earlier day.
Their banners are lowered
As the tribute silence starts
For the living and the dead
All played their similar parts.
The shrine is unveiled,
The names on display,
The heroes who fought and
Died in those long past days.
The Sharp Street Pals, one hundred
And forty two died from this street
Marched off to Belgium
And the fates they would meet.
Kitchener said they were needed
And they didn't let him down
Joining those Pals from
The other parts of the town.
History has judged harshly
The causes of their fate
But the judgements of history
By definition are too late.
And nothing can detract
From the courage and the glory,
The Sharp Street Pals, and this little
Street shrine tells part of their story.
The Standards are raise as
The ceremony end
One hundred years after the conflict
Started for that battalion of friends.
The people disperse
And the solemn mood is gone
But for just a little while in
Memory those Pals lived on.
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Sharp Street Shrine, 2014
Sharp Street Shrine, 2014