by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
‘Wot you ‘ome agin Son, when yer goin back, Blimey kid yer got it soft, not like me ‘n uncle Jack, Wern’t yer ‘ome last Chrismis, just arter that convoy run, Life in the Andrews not the same, it’s just a currant bun. ‘Ave yer...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
A hush fell on the court where the Hanging Judge held sway, As he said with deliberation, this is your lucky day, The penalty prescribed for stealing another’s bread, Is to be hung by the neck, till you are dead, dead, dead, But his Majesties pleasure I now...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
It’s not the fabled Guardsman dressed in Scarlet and Black, Nor the dashing Lancer pictured leading the attack, The backbone of the Army, seen at Longstop, Ypres, and Ghent, Are the Yoemen of England, the County Regiment. Two hundred years of history, plus one...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
The villages and towns that dot the Channel coast, Were once the meeting place of two opposing hosts, Where now pleasure boats bob gently upon silvered waves, Good then met evil to set free Nazi slaves. Gentle waves lap softly upon the pristine shore, Where a scant...
by Len Payne | Apr 9, 2009 | Poetry
‘ere ‘oos that talkin in the ranks, shuddup yew ‘orrib1e man, doncher ‘no yer on p’rade, ‘n git that grin orf yer b1eedin pan, an stop that b1eedin twi’chin, yew got St. Vitis dance, dress forwerd the fird man thare, wake hup, yew...
