Poetry

Our Tommy

By 9th March 2010December 9th, 2019No Comments

Tommy was our first born
Tommy was our son
Tommy got the calling
They gave our Tom a gun

Tommy learned to march and shoot
Tommy learned to kill
He dug his home in foreign soil
And faced that winter’s chill

Tommy went to Flanders
Tommy went to war
He fought the enemies of our King
Tommy is now no more

We miss you my dear son Tommy
We miss your sense of fun
We miss our loving gentle lad
We miss you Tommy Son

There were many, many Tommy’s
Who stood firm, row after row
Those many, many Tommy’s
Now lay where poppies grow

Chris Dickson

Author Chris Dickson

More posts by Chris Dickson

Leave a Reply