by | Sep 28, 2010 | Poetry | 0 comments

It was quite a while ago that we watched them march off proud,
And all their friends and families, cheered out so loud.
They knew it was a mission, that was very far away,
And all that they could hope for was they’d be home safe one day,
The trials they have faced, will never be understood,
And it’s hard for us to appreciate, it’s for another peoples good,
Their fight is for a nation that is way beyond our shores,
But, if they are successful, will it open democracy’s doors.

As a nation we’ve been told their equipment is first-class,
But, pardon me for asking, “Are they talking through their arse?”
Our heroes face an enemy, more formidable than most,
They don’t fight face-to-face, but shift around like ghosts.
Road-side bombs and booby traps, innocent people as shields,
Then they fire some shots, hope for a hit, then run off o’er the fields.
As our soldiers leave their barracks, protect them on patrols,
Give them armour vests, and vehicles, that won’t get riddled with holes.

Our country has the money, so give them what they need,
Send them out the vehicles to protect them all, full speed.
Send them armoured units that won’t be blown apart,
Let them know the ones in charge here, really have a heart.
If money is available for expenses left and right,
Then the need of our country’s warriors, must not be treated light,
Their lives are all so precious, to their families and to us all,
So, Politicians, pull your finger out, and start to roll that ball.

Roll it in the direction of the men who hold the purse,
And tell them that our soldiers must feel better, not feel worse.
Don’t stand before the press, proclaiming they’re the best,
These words are wearing thin, even bordering on jest,
Actions speak louder than words, so bring an end to all the spin,
The best place for those speeches is at the bottom of your bin.
Instead of introducing new medals to honour the dead,
Make that extra effort so they all survive instead.

War, sadly, is predictable, we all know some men will fall,
And every loving family, will dread that fateful call.
But what is really needed is that they all come home alive,
Not carried through Wootton Bassett, on their final drive.


Submit a Comment

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *