by | Apr 1, 2009 | Poetry | 0 comments

In a time of war, as we are starting to know,
We see more adverts that appear on show,

To call up brave men and send them away,
A hope they come back, not be buried where they stay.

But in the present day, in wars not of our choosing,
The Recruiters are really struggling in a battle they’re loosing.

In days of old and years gone by, if men were not too willing,
The ‘Press Gangs’ used to get them drunk and accept the old King’s Shilling.

Is this what’s going to happen, when the services get too short,
To conscript our men, just like Vietnam and send to a Foreign port?

Once they’ve been conscripted and sent to a hostile shore,
Like Basra or Helmand to fight someone else’s war.

What is going to happen, have you stopped and thought,
To all our brave Servicemen on return to a British Port?

They leave the Service that they served, so strong and oh so loyal,
With a handshake and a screwed up mind, for all their years of toil.

So now you need to look, at all the reasons why,
The Services can’t recruit and the source is running dry,

Because young men who cannot see, a World without its cares,
Will end up in an institute, with problems no one shares.

For when the Government shouts, “Conscript,” because they’re in a fret,
Open your eyes and remember,
An Offensive planned for Tet.


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