by | Oct 31, 2016 | Poetry | 0 comments

The country’s mood was sombre,
The prophecy was of doom,
Britain was preparing for war,
Her island shrouded in gloom.

The war would be over by Christmas,
Or so we were all informed.
We didn’t know it would last for years
Or how many men would be mourned.

Men and boys were signing up,
Some as young as fourteen,
To defend our green and pleasant land
From our enemies, yet unseen.

Whole families joined the army, –
Fathers, brothers and sons,
To fight the enemy hand to hand
Armed with Lee Enfield guns.

They left behind their loved ones, –
Parents, girlfriends and wives,
To live in those sodden trenches,
To fight and lose their lives.

Some returned home shell-shocked,
Others were battered and bruised,
So many died on those Flanders Fields,
Poisoned by gases used.

Thousands died in battle,
At Marne, Ypres and the Somme,
Lives sacrificed for our freedom
Perished in fiery maelstrom.

White headstones are lined up neatly
In cemeteries near where they fell,
To commemorate those courageous men,
To bid them a final farewell.

The poppy fields are still blooming
With flowers of deep blood red,
To remind us of valiant soldiers
Whose lives were needlessly shed.

For those gallant men who took up arms, –
We are always in their debt.
Remember, – they cherished our freedom,


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