The Edinburgh Military Tattoo
An August evening, and people make their way to
Edinburgh Castle for the world famous Military Tattoo.
Once everyone has arrived and taken their seats,
From the battlements, sounds a steady drum beat.
Soon, a large corps of drummers appears,
To the audience’s applause and rousing cheers.
Each of the soldiers, dressed in their smart uniforms,
Has been up, rehearsing, since the first break of dawn.
The drummer’s skills are most highly rated:
They perform all kinds of rhythms, including syncopated.
The sound of the big bass drum, through my body, resonates;
Its booming beat similar to that of my own pulsing heart rate.
The drummers are replaced by another military band;
No drums this time, but they have bagpipes in hand.
The whole event is a real feast for ears and eyes.
Some of the tunes played, I instantly recognise.
During the show, the arena is constantly filled,
With military personnel demonstrating their skills.
Soldiers stand to attention in a long regimented, straight line,
Then, as one, move their feet, as they stand there marking time.
The spectacle of the Massed Band of The Royal Air Force,
Makes the blood in my veins race and excitedly course.
You can’t help but be moved by the sights and the sounds,
Of one of the world’s most famous military displays around.
The audience of some seven thousand people strong,
Sit enraptured, taping their feet and clapping along.
The Esplanade, where the action all takes place, sits
In front of the impressive stone castle which is floodlit.
This stunning pageant has a truly international flavour.
Talents from around the world, the audience can savour.
To a Scottish fiddle, traditional dancers swirl.
Regimental flags are ceremoniously unfurled.
And, just as all this action has made the audience rather hyper,
They are calmed down again by the lament of the lone piper.
To the ramparts, where the piper is stood, all eyes are drawn,
As the pipes play a haunting melody, traditionally, used to mourn.
Near the end, my neighbours link their arms with mine,
As, together, we sing a rousing chorus of ‘Auld Lang Syne.’
The audience make their way home, and soon, a hush falls.
I stroll back to my hotel, feeling glad to have been a part of it all.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Related quotes
Can You Hear It
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
I like that beat as it comes along.
It’s the same beat and the same tune,
we all know it’ll be here soon.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
fast or slow it’s a catchy song.
I kind of look forward to its day
and it's a shame when it goes away.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
It's getting closer and it won’t be long.
At last it's coming down our street
with its catchy drumming beat.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
it's so simple I can’t go wrong.
It's getting louder as it comes near,
the people watching give it a cheer.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the beat’s blasting out loud and strong.
The man inside this sweeping machine
sings as he works to keep the streets clean.
Drum, drum, tipi tap, tong,
the sounds are fading as it goes along.
But it's nice to know as he sweeps the curb,
his drum, drum, tipi tap, tong, has the final word.
poem by Orlando Belo
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The Essence of Edinburgh
Evening time, in my town, is often deadly quiet,
But, up here in Edinburgh, there's a sensual riot!
From a night club doorway, purple-pink light spills out;
Along the streets, crowds of tourists still amble about.
There is an endless stream of cars and buses;
In my town, the pace is slow, but here, it rushes.
In the city, there are exciting sights and sounds;
It is so much livelier than my own little town.
In my town, after five, most people have gone home,
But, around the streets of Edinburgh, folk still roam.
Emergency vehicles rush past with klaxons blazing;
The atmosphere here, in the city, is just so amazing.
In my town, it is often almost dead after five,
But the city of Edinburgh is still very much alive.
Of action, in my own town, there's a really big lack;
I don't want to leave here: I don't want to go back.
Edinburgh, at Festival time, is always such a blast;
Against my own town, it paints a very sharp contrast.
Street entertainers attract crowds along the Royal Mile;
Attracting many tourists, they're sure to raise a smile.
At the Military Tattoo, I saw many massed bands;
I saw performers who hailed from foreign lands.
For me, that really was such a memorable night;
It filled all my senses with such excited delight.
I really wish that I could stay here forever and ever;
Inside, my soul feels light, and it floats like a feather.
I don't want to go back home: I don't want to leave.
For this amazing city, my heart will soon grieve.
Here, in Edinburgh, I have had such a great time;
For this wonderful city, I know my heart will pine.
Come tomorrow morning, when I board my train,
The essence of Edinburgh, in my heart, will remain.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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The Beat
Drum, drum, hear the drum
beating its beat
for what's to come.
It beats like your heart
a steady boom.
It slows sometimes
and then will resume.
And when the drum beats
can't be heard
and your heart no longer
can be stirred,
the silence reaches where you are
because the drum beat
is too far.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Beat Of Your Drum
Photograph king, watches you go
Now fashions may change, heaven knows, but you
Still leave a stain on me
Only to go colours may fade
The seasons may change, weather blows, but you still leave a mark on me
Wrong-negative fades-never the twain, reckless and tame
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat I beat it
I feel it
Disco brat-follow the pack
Watching you peel, heaven knows, prison cant hold all this greedy intention
Only to go-i picture you now
Music may change-hi-di-ho keen to follow your nose
Wrong-love out of tune
Sweet is the night, bright light destroys me
I like the beat of your drum
I like to look in your eyes
I like to look thru your things
Id like to beat on your drum
I like the smell of your flesh
I like the dirt that you dish
I like the clothes that you wear
Id like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
I like to beat on your drum
I like to beat on your drum
I like your face in the crowd
I like to beat on your drum
I beat it I beat cant beat it
I feel it
Cant beat it
I feel it
Ho beat it
I beat it
Oh yeah
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to yell it out loud
Id like to beat on your drum
Cant beat it cant beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like your face in the crowd
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Cant beat it
Cant beat it
I be there
Baet it all out
Beat it all in the crowd
Beat it beat it beat it beat it
I feel it I feel it
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to beat on your drum
Id like to blow your horne
Id like to beat on your drum
Yeah yeah yeah
Ahhhhhh
song performed by by David Bowie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beat the plowshare
Pound the drum
Of war to come
Rhythm on steel
Red from the forge
Forms the sword
To carry to war
The sledge makes beat
On thinning edge
As it pounds
pounds
pounds
pounds
It sounds the drum
Of war to come
Soon it will be echoed
By marching men
cries of battle
Sounds of war
The sword will lead
Before the flag
Followed by the sound
Of drums
Pounding
Pounding
To war
Today, I beat my plowshare
And I listen to the drum
poem by James Timothy Jarrett
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Geronimo
I'm feeling kind of wild I have burned down a house
The pleasure is mine it may be sick and may be wrong
That's why I did it all on my own
Pain in my mind is for no one to find
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm the world famous Geronimo
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm a world famous man
The world has gone mad and I'm being bad
To all the people that is feeling sad
Scalps on the wall are the trophies I've made
From all the people that stood in my way
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm the world famous Geronimo
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm a world famous man
Someone once said that I'm acting strange
That someone ain't living no more
People get scared when I'm passing by
I am the man who brings fear in Your eyes
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm the world famous Geronimo
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm a world famous man
My journey began on the day I was born
Ever since then I've been hunted by a man
With a rifle and star he may give me a scare
Someday I promise to cut of his scalp
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm the world famous Geronimo
Geronimo, Geronimo
I'm a world famous man
song performed by by Zonata
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Rain Music
On the dusty earth-drum
Beats the falling rain;
Now a whispered murmur,
Now a louder strain.
Slender, silvery drumsticks,
On an ancient drum,
Beat the mellow music
Bidding life to come.
Chords of earth awakened,
Notes of greening spring,
Rise and fall triumphant
Over every thing.
Slender, silvery drumsticks
Beat the long tattoo--
God, the Great Musician,
Calling life anew.
poem by Joseph Seamon Cotter
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At War With The World
Never had no need
For any military aid
And I never took charge of the light brigade
I got no castle to defend or attack
But still I seem to be picking up flack
I am the captain of this body of mine
Ill send fear into the enemy lines
On the ground, in the air or at sea
Theyre all pointing a finger at me
Im at war with the world
Thats the way it must be
Ill fight while I can
To put an end to this misery
Im at war with the world
Ill have to fight to be free
Yes Im at war with the world
Nobodys capturing me
Never have no need
For any military aid
Never took charge of the light brigade
I got no castle to defend or attack
But still I seem to be picking up flack
War with the world, with the world
Ill have to fight to be be free
Yes Im at war with the world, with the world
Nobodys capturing me
War with the world
What do they want from me?
War with the world
Why dont they let me be?
song performed by by Foreigner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Prelude
BY sunny market-place and street
Wherever I go my drum I beat,
And wherever I go in my coat of red
The ribbons flutter about my head.
I seek recruits for wars to come -
For slaughterless wars I beat the drum,
And the shilling I give to each new ally
Is hope to live and courage to die.
I know that new recruits shall come
Wherever I beat the sounding drum,
Till the roar of the march by country and town
Shall shake the tottering Dagons down.
For I was objectless as they
And loitering idly day by day;
But whenever I heard the recruiters come,
I left my all to follow the drum.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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Come dance to the drum.
Follow the steady heart beat,
By tapping the feet.
quote by by Ernestine Northover
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August
August
The massive heat which paralyzed any thought of going
outside during the day, the heat was as a huge military
blanket glued to the body like skin of grief, wars fought
for no gain other than the knowledge that new masters
who promised peace and freedom, will renege first thing
when safely in power as sure as August will return.
The September evening is soft and gentle as lover´s sigh
the breeze is cooling wooden telephone poles, it is now
possible to ring without hearing the crackling of agony of
sap dripping dowels. The voices of people eating their
meal on terraces and porches are like forgotten a tune
remembered; this, a moment to be cherished when rain
and fog comes and turns the village into gloom and we´ll
under our umbrellas say: ” August wasn´t that awful.”
poem by Oskar Hansen
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We Are More Alike Than Unalike
Let the gong-gong ring through
The living rooms of Canada Singapore New Zealand
Russia India El Salvador Poland China Botswana Switzerland
England Papua New Guinea Brazil South Africa
Japan Australia Ireland France Vietnam America…
Let the gong-gong bring first
THE CHILDREN: Their seats are Ready!
Let the gong-gong bring first
THE CHILDREN from Thailand Italy Saudi Arabia The Beloved Country
The Hope The Land of Two Rivers Sao Tome &
Principe Seychelles Equatorial Guinea St Christopher and Nevis Kiribati
THE CHILDREN: Their seats are Ready!
From Yamoussoukro Antananarivo Edinburgh Ouagadougou Oslo
Bandung Karachi Abu Dhabi Lesotho Accra Kabul Harare Cairo
Kuala Lumpur Tel Aviv Lisbon Windhoek Abuja…
Let the gong-gong bring first
THE CHILDREN: Their seats are Ready!
Come all you children of the world
Come all you children and take your seats
Under the Big Tree of Durbars
Our newfound Village
Come all you children of the world
Come all you children and take your seats
Grandee Maya Angelou
Wanna tell you a Storyline: We are More Alike than Unalike!
poem by Gabriel Eshun
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Funeral Song
Campfire and drum-beat morn,
Farewell, goodbye.
Those who own Earth,
Are owned by dust.
Singsongs are gently gone...
What begun can die.
Those who had worth
Are worth as less as rust.
And boasts alone the river-stone,
That it is I
That know no birth
Nor death, and ever last.
From whence we were born,
And soar off high,
We land again on earth,
To rest at last.
Campfire and drum-beat morn,
Farewell, goodbye.
Those who had worth,
Are worth as less as less rust.
poem by August Landing
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With Trumpet and Drum
With big tin trumpet and little red drum,
Marching like soldiers, the children come!
It 's this way and that way they circle and file---
My! but that music of theirs is fine!
This way and that way, and after a while
They march straight into this heart of mine!
A sturdy old heart, but it has to succumb
To the blare of that trumpet and beat of that drum!
Come on, little people, from cot and from hall---
This heart it hath welcome and room for you all!
It will sing you its songs and warm you with love,
As your dear little arms with my arms intertwine;
It will rock you away to the dreamland above---
Oh, a jolly old heart is this old heart of mine,
And jollier still is it bound to become
When you blow that big trumpet and beat that red drum!
So come; though I see not his dear little face
And hear not his voice in this jubilant place,
I know he were happy to bid me enshrine
His memory deep in my heart with your play---
Ah me! but a love that is sweeter than mine
Holdeth my boy in its keeping to-day!
And my heart it is lonely---so, little folk, come,
March in and make merry with trumpet and drum!
poem by Eugene Field
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Tug Of War
Its a tug of war
What with one thing and another
Its a tug of war
We expected more
But with one thing and another
We were trying to outdo each other
In a tug of war
In another world
In another world we could
Stand on top of the mountain
With our flag unfurled
In a time to come
In a time to come we will be
Dancing to the beat played
On a different drum
Its a tug of war
Though I know I mustnt grumble
It s a tug of war
But I cant let go
If I do youll take a tumble
And the whole thing is going to crumble
Its a tug of war
Pushing pushing, pulling puliing
Pushing and pulling
In years to come they may discover
What the air we breathe and the life we lead
Are all about
But it wont be soon enough
Soon enough for me
No it wont be soon enough
Soon enough for me
In another world we couid
Stand on top of the mountain
With our flag unfurled
In a time to come we willbe
Dancing to the beat played
On a different drum
We will be dancing to the beat
Played on a different drum
We will be dancing to the beat
Played on a different drum
Its a tug of war, a tug of war
A tug of war
What with one thing and another
Its a tug of war
We expected more
But with one thing and another
In a tug of war
Pushing pushing, pulling pulling
Pushing and pulling
song performed by by Paul McCartney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beautiful Edinburgh
Beautiful city of Edinburgh, most wonderful to be seen,
With your ancient palace of Holyrood and Queen's Park Green,
And your big, magnificent, elegant New College,
Where people from all nations can be taught knowledge.
The New College of Edinburgh is certainly very grand
Which I consider to be an honour to fair Scotland,
Because it's the biggest in the world, without any doubt,
And is most beautiful in the inside as well as out.
And the Castle is wonderful to look upon,
Which has withstood many angry tempests in years bygone;
And the rock it's built upon is rugged and lovely to be seen
When the shrubberies surrounding it are blown full green.
Morningside is lovely and charming to be seen;
The gardens there are rich with flowers and shrubberies green
And sweet scented perfumes fill the air,
Emanating from the sweet flowers and beautiful plants there.
And as for Braidhill, it's a very romantic spot,
But a fine place to visit when the weather is hot;
There the air is nice and cool, which will help to drive away sorrow
When ye view from its summit the beautiful city of Edinburgh.
And as for the statues, they are very grand-
They cannot be surpassed in any foreign land;
And the scenery is attractive and fascinating to the eye,
And arrests the attention of tourists as they pass by.
Lord Melville's Monument is most elegant to be seen,
Which is situated in St. Andrew's Square, amongst shrubberies green,
Which seems most gorgeous to the eye,
Because it is towering so very high.
The Prince Albert Consort Statue looks very grand,
Especially the granite blocks whereon it doth stand,
Which is admired by all tourists as they pass by,
Because the big granite blocks seem magnificent to the eye.
Princes Street West End Garden Is fascinating to be seen,
With its beautiful big trees and shrubberies green,
And its magnificent water fountain in the valley below
Helps to drive away from the tourist all care and woe.
The Castle Hotel is elegant and grand,
And students visit it from every foreign land,
And the students of Edinburgh often call there
To rest and have luncheon, at a very cheap fare.
Queen Street Garden seems charming to the eye,
And a great boon it is to the tenantry near by,
As they walk along the grand gravel walks near there,
Amongst the big trees and shrubberies, and inhale pure air.
Then, all ye tourists, be advised by me,
Beautiful Edinburgh ye ought to go and see.
It's the only city I know of where ye can wile away the time
By viewing its lovely scenery and statues fine.
Magnificent city of Edinburgh, I must conclude my muse,
But to write in praise of thee I cannot refuse.
I will tell the world boldly without dismay
You have the biggest college in the world at the present day.
Of all the cities in the world, Edinburgh for me;
For no matter where I look, some lovely spot I see;
And for picturesque scenery unrivalled you do stand.
Therefore I pronounce you to be the Pride of Fair Scotland.
poem by William Topaz McGonagall
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Parantha’s Dream
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
The twelve year old boy
Parantha Parapanjani
yearned to be a drummer
in the Royal Indian Army.
Using two wooden sticks
and a biscuit tin so old,
he imitated the drummers
and their drum rolls.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
A thief stole his drum
leaving him with nothing to play,
but his father’s old tin leg,
stepped in to save the day.
From a string around his neck,
it swung about his waist,
as he practiced with the band
outside the military gates.
He marched up and down
with his string tied tin.
Keeping in time with the
beat and marching.
One day a limping man and boy
walked down the busy street,
as Parantha drummed up
a leg moving kind of beat.
The regimental sergeant major
recognised the sound,
and saw the leg being played,
as it made its way to town.
So impressed was the sergeant
he enlisted the boy in the band.
A new side-drum he was given
and a stick for each hand.
He marched up and down
with his Indian army band,
so proud to be a drummer,
with a stick in each hand.
poem by Orlando Belo
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Lizzy & The Rainman
(henley / odell)
He came riding in on a sunrise
A hot west texas day
A fancy man in a painted wagon
Some fancy things to say
Looks like you folksll need some water
Well water is my game
For the small price of a hundred dollars
I bet you I can make it rain
So get away all non-believers or the rainll never come
Someone start a fire burning, somebody beat the drum
Some may think Im crazy for making all these claims
But I swear before the day is over your folksll see some rain
They all just stood a staring trying to believe
But there was one named lizzy cooper said he was a lying cheat
She said you call yourself a rainman, well you oughta be ashamed
For starting all these people dreaming thinking you can make it rain
So get away all non-believers or the rainll never come
Someone keep the fire burning, somebody beat the drum
Some may think Im crazy for making all these claims
But I swear before the day is over your folksll see some rain
Oh lizzy, a mans gotta have a dream
And if you can walk on the inside with me
Ill meet you in between
Come with me lizzy
And the starsll write your name
And if you still think Im lying to you
Look yonder here comes the rain
So get away all non-believers or the rainll never come
Someone keep the fire burning, somebody beat the drum
Some may think Im crazy for making all these claims
But I swear before the day is over your folksll see some rain
So get away all non-believers or the rainll never come
Someone keep the fire burning, somebody beat the drum
Some may think Im crazy for making all these claims
But I swear before the day is over your folksll see some rain
song performed by by Hollies
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Famous Fable
The famous fable,
The famous table,
The famous stable,
The famous cable,
The famous babble,
The famous gable,
The famous parable,
The famous variable
The famous sable;
But, able to crown your love with my muse!
For, you are all that i need.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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From A Castle Wall
Standing on the top of the castle wall,
surveying all that I could see
I wondered how the previous owners felt
on down through the centuries
when thy looked out from the battlements
into the horizon miles away
knowing all the land they saw
was theirs until their dying day.
19 September 2008
Authors Note:
This poem was written at the top of Carisbrooke Castle wall on the Isle of Wight.
poem by David Harris
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