by | Nov 29, 2007 | Poetry | 0 comments

I saw your programme on the TV
Your fight to keep the Afghan free

Your intended tasks rebuild the Town
Not deadly fire with men pinned down

Nor tracer fire and bullets whine
Adrenalin rush up and down the spine

No Palace guard as in the rhyme
Just desert sand of modern time

Not for you large armoured tanks
Good men and true to guard your flanks

No thanks from home must make you sore
Stuck out in the heat, a forgotten War

You ask you’re self? why did I come home
Whilst your buddies soul, abroad doth Roam

Gone the glory, Gone the Fame
Put in your place, they would feel the same

It’s normal to have feelings deep inside
Ignore the doubt, Carry on with pride

Take a break and have a beer
Remember you’re a Grenadier

From a simple ex sailor born in 43
You have respect and thanks from me.


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