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The Arborfield Bride
By kind permission of the
author, Trevor STUBBERFIELD (52A)
A/T “Remy” Bear
Ladies,
can you remember when your husband looked like this?
Warm, cute
and cuddly, someone to hug and kiss?
But this
lad is from Arborfield, a soldier through and through;
He gave
his life to the Army, but his heart he kept for you.
Three
years he spent in that camp from hell
Suffering
as only man can;
He entered
those gates a bewildered young boy,
But passed
out a skilled fighting man.
He wore
the cap badge, head held high,
His heart
could burst with pride,
But never
as proud as the day you said
You’d be
his Arborfield Bride.
He’d care
for you, fight for you, even lay down his life for you;
Nothing
would ever trouble him whilst you were by his side.
The one he
loved and worshipped -
You, his
Arborfield Bride.
Throughout
those long separations,
Posted to
God knows where,
When
danger threatened his thoughts turned to home
Knowing
you were safe back there.
Then
children blessed the marriage;
To him, a
God-sent joy,
A gift of
love from his Arborfield Bride
To the
ex-apprentice boy.
The
children simply adored him,
This
rough, tough Arborfield lad,
Known as a
lean, mean fighting machine,
They knew
him just as “our Dad”.
He gave
them love and protection,
No one
would do them harm.
Sometimes
bad memories saddened his face
But all he
showed them was his charm.
And now,
as you glance across the room, he’s nodding in his chair;
Waist a
little thicker, salt-and-pepper coloured hair.
Teeth in a
glass beside him, set down on a tray;
Cane
resting by the front door, he might venture out today.
He’ll
totter down to the Legion,
A drink
and a chat with a mate,
“I’ll only
have half today Fred,
I mustn’t
be home late.”
He’s sitting
there, eyes closed tight, lips show a gentle grin;
Just a
trace of dribble running down his chin.
But, come
on ladies, let’s be fair, he’s still there by your side;
He’s
dreaming of the day you said you’d be his Arborfield Bride.
And as you
gaze upon him, this man you’ve known so long,
The man
who stood beside you, upright, proud and strong,
Ask your
maker “Why me, Lord? Please tell me,
why me?
Anything
else I could understand, but what did I do wrong?”
Think back
to the night when he proposed, there in that crowded bar.
Through
the noise and singing his voice came to you from afar.
He’d plied
you with gin and brandy, even a glass of port;
One cheek
glued to the bar stool, you clung to the bar for support.
You heard
his marriage proposal; you couldn’t wait to say “Yes”,
But that’s
where it all went wrong, love, and it’s anybodies guess.
Things
might have been much better if you’d dashed off outside;
Or even
run to the ladies room, for in there you could hide.
Did you
make the right decision, all those years ago?
Have you
liked the life you chose? Only you will know.
But
there’s no rhyme, nor sane reason that helped you to decide;
You must
have been well pie-eyed to sign up as an Arborfield Bride.
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