By Charlton Stanley

In Scotland, they call it Hogmanay. To most of the rest of the world, it is New Years. The gigantic man quietly slipped away during the wee hours of Hogmanay morning 1996, at the age of 55. He was born in India, but always insisted he was conceived in Scotland.

A giant of a man at 20 stone, described as “gargantuan” in his obituary, he had an appetite for life, strong drink, music and anti-nuclear activism that fit his great size. His accomplishments are many although few outside Scotland have ever heard of him. He always said that when he died, he wanted, “Everyone to be knackered.” Hogmanay morning in Scotland? The last item on his bucket list was checked off.

This is not going to be a reprise of his obituary. You can read that at this link.

No, the best way to meet Hamish is through his songs. More over the fold:

His most requested song was The Cod Liver Oil and the Orange Juice. The song has been described as, “A scurrilous and hilarious take on the American gospel Christmas song, “Virgin Mary Had a Little Baby” For a time it was banned from the BBC because of the double entendres, but at the same time was the most requested song on British Forces Radio. Hamish was always at his best before an appreciative live audience. This one was no exception.

Lady Astor, the American born Viscountess Astor, who was a Member of the British Parliament was alleged to have described the British troops in the Italian campaign as “D-Day Dodgers.” This was a literal accusation that the troops in Italy were there to dodge having to participate in the D-Day invasion at Normandy. The verses were written five months after the D-Day invasion by Lance-Sergeant Harry Pynn of the Tank Rescue Section, 19 Army Fire Brigade, 79th Division in Italy. The song went through several versions. The original did not call Lady Astor by name. Later iterations were not so genteel.

The poem was sung by Hamish Imlach, set to the tune Lili Marlene.

The D-Day Dodgers

“We’re the D-Day Dodgers out in Italy –
Always on the vino, always on the spree.
Eighth Army scroungers and their tanks
We live in Rome – among the Yanks.
We are the D-Day Dodgers, over here in Italy.

We landed at Salerno, a holiday with pay,
Jerry brought the band down to cheer us on our way
Showed us the sights and gave us tea,.
We all sang songs, the beer was free.
We are the D-Day Dodgers, way out in Italy.

The Volturno and Cassino were taken in our stride
We didn’t have to fight there. We just went for the ride.
Anzio and Sangro were all forlorn.
We did not do a thing from dusk to dawn.
For we are the D-Day Dodgers, over here in Italy.

On our way to Florence we had a lovely time.
We ran a bus to Rimini right through the Gothic Line.
On to Bologna we did go.
Then we went bathing in the Po.
For we are the D-Day Dodgers, over here in Italy.

Once we had a blue light that we were going home
Back to dear old Blighty, never more to roam.
Then somebody said in France you’ll fight.
We said never mind, we’ll just sit tight,
The windy D-Day Dodgers, out in Sunny Italy.

Now Lady Astor, get a load of this.
Don’t stand up on a platform and talk a load of piss.
You’re the nation’s sweetheart, the nation’s pride
We think your mouth’s too bloody wide.
We are the D-Day Dodgers, in Sunny Italy.

When you look ’round the mountains, through the mud and rain
You’ll find the crosses, some which bear no name.
Heartbreak, and toil and suffering gone
The boys beneath them slumber on
They were the D-Day Dodgers, who’ll stay in Italy.

So listen all you people, over land and foam
Even though we’ve parted, our hearts are close to home.
When we return we hope you’ll say
“You did your little bit, though far away
All of the D-Day Dodgers, way out there in Italy.”

He also sang Black is the Colour of My True Love’s Hair. The song is often heard in the Appalachian Mountains, and some believe it to be American in origin. However, the reference to “The Clyde” is the giveaway as to the song’s true origin in Scotland.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y-cfyTs6neM

Black is the Colour of My True Love’s Hair

But Black is the colour of my true love’s hair.
His face is like some rosy fair,
The prettiest face and the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.

I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes,
If you no more on earth I see,
I can’t serve you as you have me.

The winter’s passed and the leaves are green,
The time is passed that we have seen,
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I shall be as one.

I go to the Clyde for to mourn and weep,
But satisfied I never could sleep.
I’ll write to you a few short lines,
I’ll suffer death ten thousand times.

So fare you well, my own true love
The time has passed, but I wish you well.
But still I hope the time will come
When you and I will be as one.

I love my love and well he knows,
I love the ground whereon he goes.
The prettiest face, the neatest hands,
I love the ground whereon he stands.

This is but a small sampling of the works of Hamish Imlach. It distresses me to see these videos have so few views, and so few “thumbs up.” May he not be forgotten, and come Hogmanay next January 1, lift a glass of single malt to his memory….and it won’t hurt to get a bit knackered.