Tag Archives: Poem
For those asleep on England’s shores, Are fighting men in foreign wars, Are falling men in foreign wars, For those asleep on England’s shores. Come now sir, you’re being a bore, Say some of those from England’s shores, What cares have we for foreign wars, When wars are fought without a cause? What cares have you? You’ve some for sure, Although you might not find the cause, Have care for men in foreign wars, For men who stay on distant shores.
They killed my boy, my Tommy’s dead, Oh would that it were me instead, Old should not live if young are dead, Oh would that it were me instead. But war is when the young men die, And war is when the old men cry, As Priam once from gates of Troy, ‘My boy, My boy, My boy, My boy.’
A Pardon Stands A pardon! Say again, a pardon stands, For those that died at their own country’s hands, For those who fell at dawn in distant lands, For those forgotten few, a pardon stands. # Here Lies A Soldier There used to be no writing on this slate, It was a marble ghost, Devoid of all but name, and date, It held no comfort for its host. A pardon comes, thank God, But half a hundred years too late, For all who cared, For all who grieved alone. They did not live to see the world awake, They did not watch the mountains shake, They did not hear the trumpets sound, They did not feel the earth resound. Theirs was a lifetime spent in public scorn, Too oft’ afraid their loss to mourn, Lest others, thinking not, their grief upset, Cowards chanting ‘coward.’ How sad they never read the writing on the slate, An honour now, to add to name, and date, A proof of what they’d known before, Etched out in stone for ever more, Just seven words and nothing more, ‘Here lies a soldier of the War.’