by Paddy Slevin | Aug 24, 2014 | Poetry
They say old soldiers never die, but fade into the mist. And now our friends are fading too; names on a growing list. As each one fades within our ranks, and leaves a vacant file, Their memory lives on with us, we mourn, yet still we smile We mourn the passing of a...
by Paddy Slevin | May 10, 2012 | Poetry
I was fifteen years, I didn’t shave, my experiences few, When I stepped aboard a railway train, bound for Wool, from Waterloo. I felt my heart was in my mouth, with my spirit ebbing low I had signed upon the dotted line, but now didn’t want to go. I thought of home...
by Paddy Slevin | May 10, 2012 | Poetry
They’re milling around in the foyer All taking their comfort break The coffee’s being served from vacuum jugs With slices of poppy-seed cake. They’ve the annual pay rates to set Their order-book forecast is poor The Union’s asking for eight percent Their aim is to...
by Paddy Slevin | Aug 24, 2010 | Poetry
I’d say the peacetime soldier ain’t worth a tinker’s cuss. They’re layabouts and drunkards, and often something wuss. So if our fire brigade or dustbin men refuse to work today, Well; get the squaddies off their arse, and make them earn their pay. They skive around in...
by Paddy Slevin | Oct 27, 2009 | Poetry
Would you help me if I asked you? Would you really help me out? Or would you scowl and hurry by, This worthless, idle lout? If I told you of my heart-ache, Would you stop and talk a while? Or would I see you nod and give, A patronising smile? When you place your...
