Grateful
The morning bell rings,
baby fed, lazy blue bloods,
do laughingly sing…
Soldiers, expendable dead
we lie at home, safe in bed…
Written by myself
In remembrance of those that serve an their families
The bells of hell
Bell voices ring
for the stolen ones
and their lost without trace
ghostly voices sing.
Their betters bid them serve
for their kin and king,
said for those who do their duty
death has no sting.
So they went and they died
and we watched them fly
with their white crosses
and their poppies
when their souls took wing,
but Haig like French
died peaceful in his bed,
like the stories of the millions
of expendable dead.
