PRIVAT JOHN HOLDWORTH AGED 17
John , was determined to do his bit ,Ran a way from home three times ,
Determined to join up ,
The turend John away three times ,
He tried a fourth time ,
This time he were in ,
A few weeks of basic training ,
Learnt how to salute , how to march ,
Left right , left right , left , left ,
He Lernt a few songs to march along too ,
How to load his Lee Enfield rifle ,
Fix the eighteen bayonet ,
The off to France he embarked ,
Where her learnt so much more ,
War was not the jolly jape that Kipling ,
Wrote of ,
What were to come his way ,
He met some Australians ,
'' My God '', thought John, they were big lads , made John look , feel ,
So small , '' sean more flesh on a shrimp! '', One called out ,
They laughed in good soldiery banter , John decided to laugh ,
Well best thing to do , well they were big blokes , they'd knock him ,
Clear back to Ramsgate , with out him getting his feet wet!
They told John of their homes back home ,
The beech , the sun , the roo's , bushbabys ,
The roos sound rather strange , like mouses only so much bigger ,
The beer , the Sheila's , and so more ,
Back home in Aussie ,
They told our John , '' come on over , mate'',
''We're see you right , cober'',
The called John , mate and cober '' ,
He called them pal ,
''When this is all over , I'll come'' ,
Said , John ,
They marched to a place called Fromelles ,
To do battle with old Fritz ,
A side show the generals rated it ,
In too the trenches the solders British and Australians ,
Soldergers, the flower both country's went ,
A hot summers day , the woolen karky uniforms ,
Chafed , necks , wrists , boots blistered , toes and heels ,
How they sweated , in the heat of the day ,
Fear with in them all , nervous banter could be hared ,
The boom of the artillery , of both sides ,
Then all the men , ordered '' stand too'' ,
The rum jar passed on down the ranks ,
Pored in to tin cups ,
The men , drank , no time now to be completely sober ,
The the order given '' '' Fix bayonets!''
Johns , fell to the bottom of the trench ,
His hands were trembling , even with the rum ,
He bent down , his mate , Lenny Twamley ,
His mate from Margate , help John back to his feet , he grinned ,
'' Silly bugger '' he said , Albert , there mate from Broadstairs ,
The three had been firm freinds since they met during training on ,
Government acre , mind they called it ''Government Ball Breaker ,
`
Took hold Johns rifle and fixed the bayonet fore him , and grinned ,
They , turned , faced front ,
The officer , took his Weebly out of it's holster ,
With shaking hand checked it were loaded , safety catch , off ,
Put the whistle to his lips , he had to try twice ,
Berrying his own fears of what was to come ,
The he led his men up the step of the trench ,
And over the top they went ,
Through bullets , shells , men died ,
Others had arms and legs scythed off by sharp razor shrapnel ,
Got no nearer than a few yards from the German trenches ,
John got hit by machine gun bullets in his belly ,
Down he fell , down to his knees , then on his face he fell ,
He rolled over on to his back , looking up to the sky at the sun ,
Has he grabbed at his intestines , trying to push them back in ,
John , cried out to mum , back home , in Ramsgate ,
in tears he said , ''sorry , mum'' , ''' so sorry '' ,
Then he died , he 'd learnt how to die.
The Dyslexic Poet
Ken D Williams
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 678 times
Written on 2010-01-30 at 23:36
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