I WERE NOT ALWAYS ABOUT RAIN AND THICK MUD (WORLD WAR ONE)
Some times in the trenchesThe bullets were cracking
Machine guns rat a tatering
Sounds of wiz bangs
Crumpets of shells near and far , ether side
Behind in front of us , even hehind!
It were hot and sticky , just as 'orrible
Nasty as the wet and mud
All the same!
The heat encourage the lice
Who made the stitching of our
Uniforms , breeding ground for their eggs
We'd itch them , how we itched , till our
Blood ran some
We'd run a lighted candles up down the seems
Listen as eggs burst
Get it wrong , and trousers , shirts , jackets
Would fall apart , and we all surer had that happon!
I can tell you!
Then there were the rats , as big as cats
Na more like the size of bloody puppys!
At night when were trying to get some kip
Them rats , would run all over us
Tacking bights out of our fingers , noses , ears
Them rats like a bit of fresh living meet!
I suppose , it made a change from rotten corpses!
Then a different war broke out at night
We'd grab our spades , sharpened to a razor edge
Designed to make a mess of them Fritzs , in no mans land!
Or should them come calling unannounced!
Just the tool to hunt and mash the rats!
Hunt down them fooking rats all night , the gully ran wif their blood
We'd hang them up , our trophies of out nights work
Maybe after we snatched an hour or two's kip
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Wordsmith
Poetry by ken d williams
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Written on 2014-03-12 at 00:26
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