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pibroch

ON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE

David Selzer By David Selzer0 Comments1 min read1.3K views

‘Earth has not anything to show more fair:

Dull would he be of soul who could pass by

A sight so touching in its majesty.’

COMPOSED ON WESTMINSTER BRIDGE, SEPTEMBER 3, 1802

William Wordsworth

 

After their slow revolve on the London Eye,

the kingdom’s power nexus spread beneath them –

palaces, churches, offices, parade grounds –

many tourists walk across the bridge.

 

Today industrial scale ‘Find The Lady’

awaits them: six identical sets of mats,

tin cups, balls, and keen punters shamming –

distractions for marks pickpockets will make.

A pair of police constables strides

with intent from the Embankment. One calls out

as the many miscreants disperse.

Good to know that – armed with taisers and batons,

on a bridge fortified against terrorists –

a burly bobby still shouts, ”Oi, you!’

 

At the foot of the bridge near the entrance

to Parliament’s guarded underground car park,

a Scottish piper plays a pibroch,

‘Lochaber no more’, a lament of exile.

The plangent notes swirl amongst the passing crowds.

PIPER LAIDLAW OF LOOS

The Allies were waiting to go over the top

to attack a weak enemy position.

The British used gas for the first time.

Unfortunately, after a half an hour,

the wind changed and it all blew back

over the King’s Own Scottish Borderers.

Unsurprisingly, the men were distressed.

Lieutenant Young called out, “Pipe them together,

Laidlaw, for God’s sake, pipe them together.”

And the forty year old veteran climbed

the ladder, tuned his pipes and marched back and fore

along the parapet, playing first

‘The Blue Bonnets O’er The Border’ – about

Bonnie Prince Charlie’s invasion of England –

and then ‘The Standard On The Braes O’Mar’ –

about the raising of the Jacobite flag.

He marched until shrapnel in his leg downed him

then, sitting, played on. And the laddies were

‘piped together’ and went over the top.

They were almost immediately

in enfilade from the German gunners

in an abandoned factory. Nothing

was achieved. No ground was gained or lost.

Piper Laidlaw VC died nearly eighty

and was buried in an unmarked grave.

 

This almanac of ironies is truly

beyond satire for something in this story –

and the paintings, photographs, footage

of other Pipe Majors playing the pibroch

on other parapets, in No-Man’s-Land –

moves to tears not laughter: certainly

the music – the chanter and the drone –

the selflessness, of course, and, perhaps,

the conviction that their history

and their traditions would transcend misfortune.