This poem is a meagre attempt to get into their thoughts at the time.
Hear My Song
Hear my song in the dead of night,For God and Country we were sent to fight.
See the skulls exposed, bleached pure white,
In the dawn's fair mist, in the early morning light.
The friends I knew no longer call,
I walked beside them, I saw them fall.
Like sheaves of corn in summer pasture,
Victims of the machine guns rapture.
They tumbled down as a Autumn Leaves,
No bugles blew, no show of wreathes.
Its sad to sweep his poor remains.
In mud caked sacks, with bloody stains.
In that sack now lies my friend,
A letter to his family will I send.
He was a hero,he fought so well,
Little will they know of his true farwell.
So hear my song in the dead of night,
We came for glory boys, a damn good fight.
But you who were given the final test,
Shed your blood at your place of rest.
Copyright Sid Gardner November 2010.
Poetry by Sid Gardner
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Written on 2010-11-12 at 17:20
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