Michael Rosen and Susannah Steele, “Blair Peach”

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Rosen

Double click on image for a video of the poem 

What’s that on your hands, son?
What’s that on your hands?

Only a spot of blood, mum
Only a spot of blood

How did it get there, son?
How did it get there, then?

Must have been a nose-bleed, mum
Must have been me nose

What’s this down your coat, son?
What’s this down your coat?

Looks like blood an’ all mum
Looks like blood an’ all

That was never your nose, son
That was never just your nose

Must have come from one of the others
Must have come from one of our men

But it’s all in your boots and socks, son
It’s all in your boots and socks

All in the course of duty, mum
All in the course of me job

These stains will never come out, son
These stains will never come out

They’ll be put in the bin and forgot, mum
They’ll be put in the bin and forgot

They’ll fix you up with new ones, son
They may fix you up like new
But I’ll remember this, son I’ll remember this:
You came home with blood on your boots
From a day of keeping the peace

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One response »

  1. Blimey, it’s Edward rewritten! (What’s that blood on your shirt sleeve?) I might have a crack at adapting this back into a song. As a folkie I don’t much like the (deliberately?) awkward ending, but it can’t deny it works. Nice one, Mike.

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