The Beadle of St Margaret’s

by | Nov 14, 2009 | Poetry | 0 comments

At eighty-two, Hugh Hodge runs on
He cuts a rather singular form.
Although no Christian man should bet
Hugh, had the wind upon his step.
At the Glasgow marathon he ran to win
True faith, within his heart, would burn.
Away Hugh went like a puff of smoke-
Let younger men, than he, take note
For Crosshouse Hospital £3,2OO was raised.
Dalry was proud, Hugh Hodge, was theirs-
‘All love and mercy, God be praised..’.


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