Trudging through the crimson mud,
bodies painted the fields with blood.
The soldier marched through pain and tears,
marching to war to face his fears.

Bodies covered the battlefield,
the soldiers worst nightmares, before him revealed.
His blistered feet in heavy boots,
sink into the ground; raising his arm he shoots.

The darkness of the devil filled the air,
as the enemy appeared from out of his lair.
A bullet released from the barrel of his gun,
pierced the heart of the soldier’s son.

The soldier fell to the dying boy’s side,
holding him in his arms, he wept and cried.
His friends fell like slaughtered cattle,
The soldier’s son’s life, taken by battle.

But in came the whistles of bombs of gas,
the air turned as green as the long-gone grass.
He coughed and choked, his body left to rot,
but he was a hero never to be forgot.