Wilfred Owen was killed this day exactly 100 years ago,
just seven days before the end of the "Great war" He was
twenty five years old.
I mind as 'ow the night afore that show
Us five got talkin',-we was in the know.
'Over the top to-morrer; boys, we're for it.
First wave we are, first ruddy wave; that's tore it!'
'Ah well,' says Jimmy,-an, 'e's seen some scrappin-
'There ain't no more nor five things as can 'appen:
Ye get knocked out; else wounded-bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except yer feelin' mushy
One of us got the knock-out, blown to chops.
T'other was 'urt, loosin' both 'is props.
An' one, to use the word of' 'ypocrities,
'Ad the misfortoon to be took by Fritz.
Now me, I wasn't scratched, praise god amighty,
(Though next time please I'll thank 'im for a blighty)
But poor young Jim, 'e's livin' an' 'e's not;
'E reconed 'e'd five chances, an' 'e 'ad;
'E's wounded, killed and pris'ner, all the lot,
The bloody lot all rolled in one. Jim's mad.
No comments:
Post a Comment