The camp fire

by | Mar 3, 2008 | Poetry | 0 comments

We all sit around the fire
Watching the flames getting higher
Who was it who started this fire?
The flames could not get any higher
Now that is what I call a fire

It’s cold and we huddle together
Trying to keep out the weather
Whilst we sit we start to blether
The war stories of old are starting to be told
Remember the time when we did this and that
I can’t believe we actually did all that

The camaraderie is clear as we let out a cheer
Do we have anymore beer?
The BBQ pit has just been lit
Wonder who will end up with the burnt bit
Getting pissed so I don’t really give a shit

The CSM walks amongst his men
He also thinks of the now and then
So many faces in so many places
It’s getting hard to put the names to the faces

He ponders to himself
It’s been an honour to serve in this company of mine
To hear all the war stories
And to remember all the good times
I really have looked after these boys of mine

Young Smithy recalls a time before
As the fire roars there’s no time for bores
Your war story is crap
Move onto the back you don’t have the crack
We have heard enough about when you threw a track

The cook shouts get your mess tins out
The lads cheer and shout
Burgers and brockies are rolled on out
Another slab of beer is about to disappear

As long as there are camp fires
There will always be times like this
I for one would not miss
My times like this


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