A Poem to end all Poems, by Ian F White

A Poem to end all Poems

I relished this War,

Like no war before,

'Cause it got me away from the wife.

There'd be noise, there'd be mud,

There'd be buckets of blood,

And a stench you could cut with a knife.

My two pals and I,

Waved Blighty goodbye,

And caught the first steamer to France.

We were met at Calais,

By a band in full play,

And a Mademoiselle called Constance.

I got a new cap,

A compass a map,

A rifle, and grew a moustache.

Within a few weeks,

I got trench foot at 'Eeps',

And Willie developed a rash.

Some newfangled tanks,

Bolstered our ranks,

The expected big push was nigh

We mowed down the Hun,

With a big machine gun,

Their bodies piled two or three high.

It shook me a tad,

And it drove some men mad,

Bombs exploding around us all day.

There was this one fella,

They said he was yella,

And shot him the last day in May.

On Hill Sixty-One,

Our ammo all gone,

We fixed bayonets and stood firm,

They pressed us quite hard,

Well, it was their back yard,

When recalling that day, I just squirm.

But we had some good times,

Me, Hargreaves and Symes,

Especially that Christmas weekend.

A game of football,

It ended two-all,

For a time Hans called Tommy "good friend".

Four years had soon passed,

Home beckoned at last,

But for thousands their home was now here.

So many lives lost,

Freedoms heavy cost,

White crosses, red poppies, a tear.

Ian F White 2018
We shall never forget.