Edward J. Costello

Bushey-Herts, UK

I was born of Irish parents, Sarah and Edward. I was convent educated by nuns and Christian Brothers. I am married to Catherine with two daughters, Jacqueline and Catherine. I came to Britain to live in London. I went into the Army towards the end of the war and served three years on active service in India and North Africa. I used to write poetry for my comrades to send to their wives and sweethearts. After leaving the forces I took up Carpentry and Joinery in the building industry; and later doing the same in the glass industry making moulds for domestic glassware and looking after company property. Later on I took up welding and eventually horse racing carriage building. I am now retired. Note to reader: "Dunblane" was written on the 17th of March 1996, three days after that sad day when 16 children and their teacher were killed and others injured; "Honour Bound" speaks for the honour of the silent weapon and the person who contains it; "The Flag of Courage" I dedicate to my niece Mrs. Francis Maguire, who died aged 34 years leaving her husband and four children. Her courage was the greatest thing I've ever seen.

The Flag of Courage

I am the flag of courage
so carry me with pride.
I shall make the final statement
to the moment when you tried.
There are many coloured ribbons
for the deeds that are done.
Many are the medals
for the battles that are won.
None greater than the flag of truth
that you are asked to bear.
May those who stand beside you
take pride in what they share.
Let faith and honour hold me
to the courage of your name.
And I will go forth boldly
your courage to proclaim.

Honour Bound

Of finest steel they fashioned me
Burnished to their pride
A scabbard then was finely made
To place me there inside
Unsheathe me not without honour
Tarnish not nor blunt my edge
For I am that moment of truth
To this I shall in valour serve
Let not dishonour break me
Nor lay me to the ground
Till we both lie in silence
Forever honour bound
And when at last our story
To others will unfold
The truth that was our glory
Made us brave and bold

Dunblane

No more the time, no more to play
Of earthly daily pleasure
Where lay ye down we contemplate
The consequence in measure
No more to see the hour of day
Nor yet the setting sun
The anguish of the passing hours
for the heart and mind of anyone
No more, no more in anguish cry
In echo to this day
But rest in peace where ye lay down
For ye can't come out to play
What then for us but cry no more
When we've quietly walked away
But remember well these saddest hours
When we watch our children play.