A true account. My response too gaiateus good poem.
Pinned it too his chest , saluted him ,
He stood all proud , if a little embarrassed ,
Self conchs , soldiers often are , at such times ,
Then one day , the enemy broke through , were in the trench ,
Charging down the trench , bayonets flashing court in the bright sun ,
Some dulled by fresh flowing blood , soldiers laying bleeding , moaning ,
Asking for mum ,
He stopped , the enemy just around the corner ,
He jammed his short Lee Enfield across the trench , giving a little precious time ,
Giving his pal's time too get the hell out , saving there life's ,
His reward for his quick thinking?
The lad were arrested , charged with casting away his weapon in the face
Of the enemy ,
They gave him a court marshal , a second lieutenant his defender ,
Three officers his judges , found him guilty , the sentence ,
To be shot at dawn , of the next day ,
He were held in a barn , he were a lone , with only rum too dull his thoughts ,
The dawn came up , soldier of his regiment came in , '' it's time , lad '' , one
said to him ,
He could not march , his knees giving way , they dragged him to the stake ,
Tied his arms , lashed his body , till he was secured tightly ,
The sentence read out , a sack pulled over his head , he cried out for his mum ,
A padre , read out prays ,
Ten men stood in a line , with a Lee Enfield .303 each ,
One rifle had a blank , so one could think he did not shoot the condemned man ,
Though the kick back gave it away ,
the order given ,
'' Squad , squad , take aim '' '' the duty officer in charge , drops his arm ,
Gives the order '' fire '' ,
The sound of erratic rifles firing ,
The squad , found it hard to be on the detail ,
Most if , not all had drank some rum ,
Some were pals of the the lad ,
The bluets hit him in arms , shoulder , legs,but no wear fatal ,
The officer quickly walked to the stake , with his Webley revolver ,
He bent down administered the cru de gra , barrel inserted in the mouth ,
CRACK , and it he was dead , brains in the dirt , the mud ,
His body thrown in a hole in the ground , no marker the war went on ,
After 90 or so years , he were found incessant , though they Sade they pardoned
Harry , and all the rest like Harry ,
Now his name can be seen his name , Sargent Harry W Stone Durham Light
Infantry
On a memorial to those who fell in world war one
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Poet
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 582 times
Written on 2011-04-23 at 18:56
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SHOT TO DISCOURAGE OTHERS
They'd given him a meddle, all shiny ,Pinned it too his chest , saluted him ,
He stood all proud , if a little embarrassed ,
Self conchs , soldiers often are , at such times ,
Then one day , the enemy broke through , were in the trench ,
Charging down the trench , bayonets flashing court in the bright sun ,
Some dulled by fresh flowing blood , soldiers laying bleeding , moaning ,
Asking for mum ,
He stopped , the enemy just around the corner ,
He jammed his short Lee Enfield across the trench , giving a little precious time ,
Giving his pal's time too get the hell out , saving there life's ,
His reward for his quick thinking?
The lad were arrested , charged with casting away his weapon in the face
Of the enemy ,
They gave him a court marshal , a second lieutenant his defender ,
Three officers his judges , found him guilty , the sentence ,
To be shot at dawn , of the next day ,
He were held in a barn , he were a lone , with only rum too dull his thoughts ,
The dawn came up , soldier of his regiment came in , '' it's time , lad '' , one
said to him ,
He could not march , his knees giving way , they dragged him to the stake ,
Tied his arms , lashed his body , till he was secured tightly ,
The sentence read out , a sack pulled over his head , he cried out for his mum ,
A padre , read out prays ,
Ten men stood in a line , with a Lee Enfield .303 each ,
One rifle had a blank , so one could think he did not shoot the condemned man ,
Though the kick back gave it away ,
the order given ,
'' Squad , squad , take aim '' '' the duty officer in charge , drops his arm ,
Gives the order '' fire '' ,
The sound of erratic rifles firing ,
The squad , found it hard to be on the detail ,
Most if , not all had drank some rum ,
Some were pals of the the lad ,
The bluets hit him in arms , shoulder , legs,but no wear fatal ,
The officer quickly walked to the stake , with his Webley revolver ,
He bent down administered the cru de gra , barrel inserted in the mouth ,
CRACK , and it he was dead , brains in the dirt , the mud ,
His body thrown in a hole in the ground , no marker the war went on ,
After 90 or so years , he were found incessant , though they Sade they pardoned
Harry , and all the rest like Harry ,
Now his name can be seen his name , Sargent Harry W Stone Durham Light
Infantry
On a memorial to those who fell in world war one
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Poet
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 582 times
Written on 2011-04-23 at 18:56
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
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