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Trenches Are No Place For A Gardener

from On Blue Days - the demo tapes by Darcy Hay

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about

A song about the PTSD that went unrecognised among the working class soldiers who went off to war just over 100 years ago. This is for my great-grandfather, who was gassed at Gallipoli and died in Geraldton four years later from tuberculosis.

lyrics

He was the son of a market gardener.
She was the child of a maid and a cook -
and they fought like feral cats in the schoolyard,
and they married by Wokarena Brook.
In 19 and 13, the crops were fertile,
and in 1914, they had a babe.
In 19 and 15, they had another,
and in 1916, he went away.
Say farewell to old Mr Criddle,
and wave away the Moonyoonooka scarp.
For they’ve sent you off to France, to battle.
Good luck, good bye – au revoir.
Trenches are no place for a gardener.
The only seeds are bone, washed with blood -
and a rifle is a cruel bed companion
when a married man lies, freezing in the mud.
Surviving was an endless game of numbers,
and laying low, when shrapnel flies -
and closing your eyes as friends are butchered,
and seeing their faces every night.
Say goodbye to the weeping River Somme.
Fare-thee-well, red fields of Picardy.
For you are leaving, my comrade, for your garden -
hooroo, old mate, mes amie..

A friend said something last week
that gave me cause to pause.
She said, “There’s a lotta shows on TV
about soldiers, and their wars.
But none show what happens when
the lucky ones come home,
and the memories that haunt them
when their enemies are gone.

Those memories that don’t leave,
for soldiers, and brave nurses.
There are faces, voices, gnawing grief
that follows them to sleep.
Those curses of the battleground
that kill without a single shell.
Yeah, there’s not enough shows around
that show their living hell.”
Trenches are no place for a gardener
when muddy soil fills a man with dread -
and a garden is no paradise for family
when a man drinks to kill the shaking in his head.
This man will go to fight for his family
This man will fight for his patch of dirt -
and w war will take them both from him.
A war is never-ending hurt.
Say goodbye to the Moonyoonooka gullies.
Say farewell, to your tangled, withered vines -
for your sadness is cut too deep to summit.
Thanks for your service, old mate – goodbye.

credits

from On Blue Days - the demo tapes, released July 9, 2021
Darcy Hay - lyrics, vocals, harmonica, guitar

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about

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Darcy Hay Geraldton, Australia

Folk, country and blues singer-songwriter from the Midwest of Western Australia with a penchant for political and poetic lyricism, energetic guitar playing, authentic vocals and deft harmonica work

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