Pals
In this lonely place
rows of white stone
mark the spot
where we once saw the dawn.
In this lonely place
a solitary oak
whispers its sadness
where we once carved our names.
In this lonely place
a flower blooms
bright as the sun
that once warmed our cold backs.
In this lonely place,
a breeze ripples grass
silent now
where once we sought sleep.
In this lonely place
a bird bravely flies
soaring above
where the Howitzers roared.
In this lonely place
shell-holes remain
empty craters
Armageddon we once faced.
In this lonely place
a rabbit passes by
on the same earth
that once oozed the smell of mortal fear.
In this lonely place
a whistle blew
over we went
where shells scorched Picardie.
In this lonely place
a battle raged
pals joined in conflict
divided ranks, into hell we ran.
In this lonely place
a tear was shed
destiny marked
with the vile taste of despair.
In this lonely place
the sun went down
mud took claim
where a Bergmann gun[1]spat our names.
We prayed
We cried
We lived
We died
In this lonely place.
THEIR NAME LIVETH FOR EVERMORE
[1] Bergmann machine guns were not used on the Somme until 1918
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