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
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
‘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...
by Len Payne | Apr 8, 2009 | Poetry
Strolling down the Ginza, on a little R&R, Laughing with the Go Go girls fronting every bar, With back pay in our pockets and good times on our mind, We set out in earnest to leave the war far behind. Dropping in at Rosie’s to sink a beer or three, In...
by Len Payne | Apr 8, 2009 | Poetry
If you wear the “butchers apron” then you’re my kind of guy, for you were in Korea when the bullets began to fly, we were called to the land of the Morning Calm in 1951, to help put out a fire the North Korean’s had begun. We landed down in Pusan and...
by Len Payne | Apr 8, 2009 | Poetry
Armed at first with broomsticks, or handle from a pick, with cardboard tank, and milkman’s horse, sometimes just a stick, The Home Guard were the last resort should Germany invade, And to the amusement of the village, each Sunday held parade. They suffered much...
