“Why did it begin, this war of all wars?
What is the reason it had to commence?”
I ask God each time the next man falls,
Alone, dying on the barbed wire fence

At first it was a laugh, a dream, a plan
To sign up in London for the British front,
Everyone did it, all ages of man
Compelling or boring, witty or blunt

Oh and what ambitions we’d had!
A short Trip to France, Germany Spain
It matters not now, and from the trench I’m glad,
That its poor Eddie, not me, who’s lying pain

I know I’ll be soon, to take that bold step,
We’ll charge for the King into no-man’s land,
Though it greets me as a daunting prospect,
I think finally, I understand

Bodies of those, same uniform as me,
Surround me in our great hour of need,
The bullet hits low, below me I see
The hole in my stomach which begins to bleed

All is gone now, there’s no blundering sound
Of mortars, day and night, always flying passed
And in this haven I lie, part underground
I’ll be free from this torment, with those I love, at last.