SHEEP SHIT

It was a matter of millimetres

When I hit the ground 

I got a mouthful of sheep shit

As I heard that `crack` sound

It had your name on it

It should have been mine

But I will never forget you

My Geordie mate from the Tyne

You were only eighteen 

Forever will you remain

Every year I will come and visit

Have a drink just the same

Il will meet you soon in Valhalla

You will see this old man

Take the piss have a laugh

Like when you beet me up Pen y fan

Here have the last of my brandy

As it soaks in your grave

Il wipe away a tear

Green light on…….bye Dave.

 

© Tony McNally

Author's Notes/Comments: 

The  differnce between living and dying on the battelfield,a matter of centimeters.

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War Tales

poetically rendered, are fascinating to me. Like the great novelists, the great orators, the generals on leave, the voice is that of the soldier, bloody real - Just Bein' Stella

 

 



Onyamaichi