Duties
Friend and foe await the morn,
The morn not of singing bird,
Bodies weary and muscles torn,
Gunshot upon gunshot,
A smoke my friend? Better crouch, cant be the third.
Uniform lice ridden, itching red raw,
Men sleeping in a dirt hole,
Backs aching and sore.
Dreaming of distant memories of family and friend,
Greedy fat vermin rats cannot contend.
Orders, ORDERS! Over the top you stumble.
Charge through the sludge of yuck, people at home cannot comprehend.
Rattling machine guns mow down your friends like a game of Domino.
This war is like sending a lamb to slaughter!
Men killing mankind.
Our duties as civilised humans have been resigned.
To hell all soldiers will now go,
For the freedom of British people,
We fight for our people and our people's people,
We fight 'till death will take us,
We fight for our country.
Lucy Brown, February 2004
February 2004 - The poem above was written by Lucy Brown as part of a school project while studying the First World War. She wrote to tell me how the WW1 photographs on this website had helped her as she was writing the poem, and sent me a copy of the poem. I liked it, and she kindly gave her permission for me to put it up on the website. Thank you Lucy!
Contents
Copyright notice
Copyright in the poem above, "Duties", belongs to Lucy Brown, and it may not be reproduced or used without her permission. Email any requests to use the poem to me at dms@zetnet.co.uk and I will pass them on.
http://www.users.zetnet.co.uk/dms/past/gallery/poem-duties.html
"Duties" © 2004 Lucy Brown
Different Worlds | Pictures of the Past | WW1 © 1998-2004 Donna Smillie <dms@zetnet.co.uk>