Not Coming Home
I cannot tell who is fighting who here,
I can see blood and sweat and fear.
I can hear men scream in pain,
I can hear men pray in vain,
I can see bodies torn and gashed,
I can see bodies rotted just ash.
I cannot see who is fighting who here,
I can see terror, horror and pain
Will any of these men
Live to sing again.
Johnnie screams, but not with pain
He knows he will never walk again,
He has lost a leg, he lies in bed,
A brave young man, The Surgeon said.
"I saw him die" Young Farrow said
John does not hear John is dead.
These boys so young were fit and brave,
Now so many lie in their grave.
Some lie with eyes still open wide,
Did they know why they died?
The Doctors, Nurses, Surgeons try ,
But day after day they watch them die.
Fear and Pride
Our son since you were a babe in arms
So cute and cuddly with oodles of charm
We nurtured and protected and watched how you grew
You became a young man who was honest and true
You kept off the streets and away from gang culture
Avoided the drug dealers hovering like vultures
Then came the day in the forces you enrolled
We were so proud but still our blood ran cold
Going into danger where we couldn't help
Our baby was gone, that's how I felt
Then you were sent to those far off places
Watching the news, oh how the heart races
Always waiting for that knock on the door
Nerves jangle and shudder right to the core
I'm not alone there are many like me
Getting on with life, I'm told is the key
But I sit at home with head held high
And shamelessly pray that you won't die
Or that you and your mates come to no harm
Now you're a soldier and you're carrying arms
My Grandad
He was not tall, not short,
A broad and powerful man
His hair was ash with silver sides
And golden curl always cut off
When it grew too obvious.
His hands were coal shovels,
Always black with diesel,
He worked with boats on the Norfolk Broads,
He made his own; and hired them out,
He loved his work too much.
He was proud, he fought in the war,
He told me many stories.
Kept his cap badge, and a bitten cork,
And wore his medals each November,
He was a true soldier
Then came the final war,
One nobody could fight,
The worst battle came in November,
He sat in bed with his medals on,
The tears streamed down his face,
Strength sapped, and pride dissolved,
Unable to stand up,
Propped up behind by fat pillows,
He fought to sit to attention,
Two weeks later he lost.
I still have his cap badge,
My mind has his gold curl,
He taught me many different things,
But through him I tasted my first war,
Losing a man so loved.