Weekly tasks

The Legend of how the Thistle became the flower of Scotland

The prickly purple thistle was adopted as the Emblem of Scotland during the reign of Alexander III  (1249 -1286). Legend has it that an Army of King Haakon of Norway, intent on conquering the  Scots landed at the Coast of Largs at night to surprise the sleeping Scottish Clansmen. In order to move more stealthily under the cover of darkness the Norsemen removed their footwear. As they drew near to the Scots it wasn't the only thing hiding under the cover of darkness. For one of  Haakon's men unfortunately stood on one of these spiny little defenders and shrieked out in pain, alerting the Clansmen of the advancing Norsemen. Needless to say it was the Scots who won the day. The first use of the Thistle as a royal symbol of Scotland was on silver coins issued by James III in 1470

Poems of WW1 Part 2

Stars shine bright     
On christmas night
Bayonets gleam
Under the stars I start to dream
Life without the war
It seemed impossible anymore
Khaki and brown uniforms
I looked at the rainstorms
Slowly a pale light starts to rise
Now the kea cries
We are ordered to get into parade formation
because it is time to see another nation
As we go back we see some Aussies
Next we see some Tommies
The orders are charge now christmas later

Going above the rise
Scarily we are in there eyes
Now there are some cries
Next we need to see how the land lies
Then there is a bombardment phase manny Kiwi soldiers get hit
Now we need to run up the hill with our kit
Suddenly German machine guns start firing
Finally the enemy are in my eye ring

Five Kiwi soldiers rush over to a shed
Luckily enough there is a injured New Zealand Commando on the bed
Horrifyingly the shed turned into flame
The German Air Force was to blame

Poems of WW1 Part 1

Planes buzz and whirr around me
Only when I open my eyes do I see
Khaki uniforms on the ground
With machine guns spitting out round after round
Silver of Bayonetes
Before the waves and waves of Air Force Jets
Men leaving the safety of the safety of there trenches
Then more run out with hopes
Night finally comes


Now there is one more charge of the West Coast Battalion
As I leave my trench suddenly shouts ring out in Italian
Running foard the man next to me falls
"Forward men" an officer calls
My skin got teared with something cold
I fell to the ground and thought my life had been sold
A purple colored liquid started seeping to the dirt
There was a humongous rip in my shirt
Close to me a bomb landed on a poppy
I waited for it to coppie
But it unfolded
Slowly I reached out to hold it
It had not given up so why should I
Slowly tears sprung to my eye
Stood up and kept running up the hill and got through the enemy lines
There was celebration of all kinds