Ah didny recognise him fae the eulogy.
The meenister'd nivver met the lad, Ah could see.
A hero?  Aye, mibbe.  Jist a name tae maist ay these fowk.
But ah kent im as a boay,
the daft wee scapegoat, ayewis in boather,
but nae real hairm in im.
He wis the lad wha'd get skelped, the noise
makkin the teacher turn is heid
jist in time tae spot im skelpin back.
Mairched tae the heidie again.
"Yir a bad lot, Barry.
Yir faither wis a bad lot too."

Puir Baz.
Da in the jile,
Ma aff her face on smack,
an him, daft, funny, doomed.
If onybody at hame had cared enough
tae keep the schuil photies,
they'd have shown a wee freckly laddie
wi a too-open grin,
year eftir year,
jersey gettin tattier,
teeth getting gappier,
still grinnin while the rest ay us
were far too cool tae smile for the camera.

Ah liked im.
Didny unnerstaun how the teachers
were sae ***** tae im.
There wis far badder boays in the year.
Ricky ****** Jackson - a nasty, sleekit wee body,
yankin ab'dy's strings.
But his da wis rich
an the teachers fawned ower im.
No Baz, though.
Cannon fodder, richt enough.
Tackin the flack fir the rest ay us.

Exactly the kind ay lad
the ******* Army thrives on.
Ah canny feel the patriotic pride,
canny picture the self-sacrifice,
the heroism.
Ah can juist see im,
daft an grinnin,
daein whit he wis tellt
an gettin killt.

Mind you,
he wis aye headin for the poppies, that yin,
One wey
or anither.

“Það er alltaf einhver að deyja / There’s always someone dying.

Og alltaf einhver að fæðast / And always someone being born.

Sumir fæðast aldrei, þora því ekki / Some never make it—never dare.

Þora EKKI að láta drauminn sinn rætast – Framkallast / Not daring to light the torch.

Það er eitt stærsta verkefni lífsins / It is one of life’s biggest projects.

En flestir átta sig ekki á því, taka ekki eftir því / And most don’t get it—
Og svo er það of seint. / Until it’s already too late.

Láta samfélagið stela af sér sjálfs-myndinni; / Letting society steal their image;
Væntingar samfélagsins ráðast gegn þeim – / Or the expectations of society –

En alltaf er eitthvað að deyja, / And always something dying,

og eitthvað nýtt að fæðast. / And something else trying to get born.

Plís, ekki verða þjáður fáviti eins og ég. / Please, don’t become a tortured fool like me.”

Leifðu þér að fæðast / allow yourself to be born