Poetry

Over the Top

By 4th February 2012December 9th, 2019No Comments

Whistle blows, we’re under order
Just another day, just another slaughter
Just another time, we’re over the top
The ruling class, they just won’t stop

We will stop lots of things
Like bullets and mortars
With grimmest and grins
With stiff upper lip, not quivering chins
As we move on the line, the line really thins

Splattered in mud with things you want to forget
Waters not warm and red it’s just wet
The pal you shook hands with we just had a bet
Is struggling and twisting in a razor wire net

But onward we move the young and the fit
They fire the flares to light up the hit
We stumble and fall, some, just shake and sit
But some just drag themselves through the shit

From the land we call home, we are sent to die
All the promises made, turn out to be lies
Our aim today is a few yards for the King
With constant noise, oh! What a din din din din

We leap over wire and fall to our knees
We lean on a stump where there used to be trees
The sin of man on man is grim to behold
Who will voice the story? The truth to be told

Three quarters down, the field of play
I feel the thud, I’ve had my day
It’s quick and clean and that’s what I pray
1918 the 5th of May

Now you stand at my head stone white
Farmer’s lad sent to fight
From Cheshire fields, a loving son
We fought my brother, we called him the Hun

Stephen Williams

Author Stephen Williams

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