Till Death Us Do Part
Title
Till Death Us Do Part
Description
A poem about Brian's life in the RAF and after marrying Mair. They bought a farm in Australia.
Creator
Spatial Coverage
Language
Format
Three printed sheets
Conforms To
Publisher
Rights
This content is available under a CC BY-NC 4.0 International license (Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0). It has been published ‘as is’ and may contain inaccuracies or culturally inappropriate references that do not necessarily reflect the official policy or position of the University of Lincoln or the International Bomber Command Centre. For more information, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ and https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/legal.
Contributor
Identifier
MWalleyBS1062112-180127-040001, MWalleyBS1062112-180127-040002, MWalleyBS1062112-180127-040003
Transcription
TILL DEATH US DO PART
It began in nineteen thirty-nine.
I met Mair – said she’d be mine.
She was fifteen and still at school,
I fell in love just like a fool.
“Twas puppy love at seventeen,
But love is love however keen.
It blossomed like a lovely rose,
Then put on hold to fight our foes.
I volunteered and learned to fly.
Look out Hitler, it’s do or die!
Bombs on Europe were my lot.
Berlin or bust but we were shot.
Lost one engine but we pressed on,
Weather bad – the weather won.
Turned for home – ditched in the sea.
Two days later – sole survivor – me.
I’d watched four crew around me die.
My wings now clipped no more to fly.
A seaplane rescue by wrong side.
Grounded now though I nearly died.
Hospitalised for six weeks long.
Soon to find I’d got it wrong.
P.O.W. Incarceration,
Four long years to liberation.
My love for Mair now put on hold.
Letters between us now like gold.
Living a life on borrowed time
Waiting for freedom bells to chime.
Big welcome home in forty-five.
My love for Mair still much alive.
Took six months to tie the knot,
Another nine to fill the cot!
We farmed “Nantanog” – Anglesey,
And there we raised our family.
David, Allan, Jan, Hugh and Lyn,
Full house now – let the fun begin.
Sold up and moved in sixty-four,
To a private home – then took a tour,
To find a farm where we could live
A better life than we had lived.
[page break]
To Canada, from east to west,
Their six months winter – not the best.
On to New Zealand for a three months stay,
Nearly bought a farm but Mair said “nay”.
Chewed the rag with Scotty and Bill,
My prison friends and good friends still.
Their lovely country was not for me.
Australia was next, the land to see.
In sixty five we got back home.
Lots to think of – no more to roam.
So bought a farm ten miles away.
Fully intending there to stay.
Having travelled far and wide.
Itchy fee, time to decide.
Sixty-seven – full of nostalgia
We migrated to Australia.
Esperance called – but why the rush
To hack a farm out of the bush?
Three thousand acres – nine hundred cleared.
The way ahead not to be feared.
First job, the machinery shed.
Somewhere at last to make my bed.
Mair and kids left in Mosman Park,
While I ploughed on from dawn to dark.
My six months there, just just [sic] living rough’
No family life – enough’s enough.
So I got out and packed it in,
To look for gold I hoped to win!
Our children grew up as children do.
They wed and bred for life anew.
Lyn flew the coop for Mexico –
To be shot down by Cupid’s bow.
Families and relatives world-wide
Meant many trips to the other side
To keep in touch – money well spent.
We never grudged a single cent.
Mair and I, starting from scratch,
Five kids of our own and fourteen to match.
A lovely lot, who like us bred
Twenty-two ‘Greats’ and more ahead.
[page break]
P.O.W. friendships now recalled
With trips abroad – five in all.
Three to Canada, two to U.K.
Chewed the rag – what more so say!
From London we took off and flew
Back to Germany to meet a few
Of their Air-Sea Rescue crew.
Not now at war, the friendships grew.
Over the years we’ve settled down,
Run our run, now time’s our own.
Downsized homes and now retired
To Mirrambeena to be rewired.
At ninety-three and ninety-five,
So ends the tale of Mair and me.
Come the time when we must wind down
Till death us do part and life has flown.
It began in nineteen thirty-nine.
I met Mair – said she’d be mine.
She was fifteen and still at school,
I fell in love just like a fool.
“Twas puppy love at seventeen,
But love is love however keen.
It blossomed like a lovely rose,
Then put on hold to fight our foes.
I volunteered and learned to fly.
Look out Hitler, it’s do or die!
Bombs on Europe were my lot.
Berlin or bust but we were shot.
Lost one engine but we pressed on,
Weather bad – the weather won.
Turned for home – ditched in the sea.
Two days later – sole survivor – me.
I’d watched four crew around me die.
My wings now clipped no more to fly.
A seaplane rescue by wrong side.
Grounded now though I nearly died.
Hospitalised for six weeks long.
Soon to find I’d got it wrong.
P.O.W. Incarceration,
Four long years to liberation.
My love for Mair now put on hold.
Letters between us now like gold.
Living a life on borrowed time
Waiting for freedom bells to chime.
Big welcome home in forty-five.
My love for Mair still much alive.
Took six months to tie the knot,
Another nine to fill the cot!
We farmed “Nantanog” – Anglesey,
And there we raised our family.
David, Allan, Jan, Hugh and Lyn,
Full house now – let the fun begin.
Sold up and moved in sixty-four,
To a private home – then took a tour,
To find a farm where we could live
A better life than we had lived.
[page break]
To Canada, from east to west,
Their six months winter – not the best.
On to New Zealand for a three months stay,
Nearly bought a farm but Mair said “nay”.
Chewed the rag with Scotty and Bill,
My prison friends and good friends still.
Their lovely country was not for me.
Australia was next, the land to see.
In sixty five we got back home.
Lots to think of – no more to roam.
So bought a farm ten miles away.
Fully intending there to stay.
Having travelled far and wide.
Itchy fee, time to decide.
Sixty-seven – full of nostalgia
We migrated to Australia.
Esperance called – but why the rush
To hack a farm out of the bush?
Three thousand acres – nine hundred cleared.
The way ahead not to be feared.
First job, the machinery shed.
Somewhere at last to make my bed.
Mair and kids left in Mosman Park,
While I ploughed on from dawn to dark.
My six months there, just just [sic] living rough’
No family life – enough’s enough.
So I got out and packed it in,
To look for gold I hoped to win!
Our children grew up as children do.
They wed and bred for life anew.
Lyn flew the coop for Mexico –
To be shot down by Cupid’s bow.
Families and relatives world-wide
Meant many trips to the other side
To keep in touch – money well spent.
We never grudged a single cent.
Mair and I, starting from scratch,
Five kids of our own and fourteen to match.
A lovely lot, who like us bred
Twenty-two ‘Greats’ and more ahead.
[page break]
P.O.W. friendships now recalled
With trips abroad – five in all.
Three to Canada, two to U.K.
Chewed the rag – what more so say!
From London we took off and flew
Back to Germany to meet a few
Of their Air-Sea Rescue crew.
Not now at war, the friendships grew.
Over the years we’ve settled down,
Run our run, now time’s our own.
Downsized homes and now retired
To Mirrambeena to be rewired.
At ninety-three and ninety-five,
So ends the tale of Mair and me.
Come the time when we must wind down
Till death us do part and life has flown.
Collection
Citation
Brian Walley, “Till Death Us Do Part,” IBCC Digital Archive, accessed October 28, 2024, https://ibccdigitalarchive.lincoln.ac.uk/omeka/collections/document/39059.
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