Sadly , this story/poem not at all at my best. The idea work in my mind. But not in print. I tried to show the realty of war. Survival!
Time to wash , shave , brush up , no time to clean kit
Just put back on me uniform
Still covered in shit from the trenches , far worse than that
Of that , not wanting to take that home to mum
Those back will be asking about Noby , how he died
Did he feel any pain? , did he suffer? , was it over quick?
Did he say anything , any thing at all?
His old mum will say '' did he ask about me? ''
'' As he died , did , did , what did he say ''
How can I tell her , explain that night
That Noby and me , were sent out in to no mans land
To fix up broken barbwire , one of us , must of made as sound
Friz , must of herd us , old Friz , opened up , machine gun
Rifles to keep the machine gunner company
They missed me was I the lucky one!
Noby's luck was out , court a belly full of led , but did not die
Pore sod!
We , that is I did jumped in to an old shell crater , I was not a lone
There , were others , well body's , most were bones ours and there's
Under rotten , decaying , floating men , as they had been living
At some time or other
I looked around for Noby , but he was not in the hole with me and the stiffs
Then I herd Noby , screaming , that courst me piss my self , 'cos , Noby would
Be telling Friz about us!
Noby screamed , how he screamed!
Friz , deep firing towards us , still Noby sceamde!
He went quiet , I thought: '' thank fook , for that , he's finaly dead!''
But Noby was NOT FOOKING DEAD! , He was now whimpering , calling for his mum
I swallowed , well I would have , but I could get no spit , throat , were to dry
Yes , dry through fear!
I chanced it , pop me head out , saw Noby , crawled out of the safety of the me
'ole , in the ground, I took a gamble , grabbed , Noby , I ran back to the 'ole
Threw Noby in , as I jumper back in , Noby , lived still!
He were silent , at least for now , but that was not to last
He began to call out for his old mum , he was bleeding badly from his gut's
I could take anymore of his caling out , he must been heard by Fritz
I had to survive! I was due leave! go 'ome!
I decided , know what I had to do , I pushed , his head down , down in the filthy
Walter , a few bubbles , then he was dead , gone , quiet , for all time
I waited , then , got me self back to the safety of our trenches!
I HAD SURVIVED!
I recon I'll just lie , to Noby old mum
As we usely do , when we go home on leave
That's the form now , cant tell them truth
No time to dwell on that just now , me chums yell ,
''Come on , or aint got a 'ome to go to ''
'' Well chum weve got one! '' '' shift you're ace! ''
We clambered aboard the transport
All eager to leave the front behind
Plans to go down the pub back home
To Ramsgate , go on a pub crawl
Start of in the Red Lion , end up who cared where
Look forward to sinking some proper English beer
Sink a few bevies , get proper drunk , legless
We reach Boulogne , board the ship on way home
Folkestone , train and home , hear we come!
Ready or not!
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Wordsmith
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 588 times
Written on 2014-02-10 at 19:38
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GOING HOME ON LEAVE (WORLD WAR ONE)
I got me pass , me train ticket homeTime to wash , shave , brush up , no time to clean kit
Just put back on me uniform
Still covered in shit from the trenches , far worse than that
Of that , not wanting to take that home to mum
Those back will be asking about Noby , how he died
Did he feel any pain? , did he suffer? , was it over quick?
Did he say anything , any thing at all?
His old mum will say '' did he ask about me? ''
'' As he died , did , did , what did he say ''
How can I tell her , explain that night
That Noby and me , were sent out in to no mans land
To fix up broken barbwire , one of us , must of made as sound
Friz , must of herd us , old Friz , opened up , machine gun
Rifles to keep the machine gunner company
They missed me was I the lucky one!
Noby's luck was out , court a belly full of led , but did not die
Pore sod!
We , that is I did jumped in to an old shell crater , I was not a lone
There , were others , well body's , most were bones ours and there's
Under rotten , decaying , floating men , as they had been living
At some time or other
I looked around for Noby , but he was not in the hole with me and the stiffs
Then I herd Noby , screaming , that courst me piss my self , 'cos , Noby would
Be telling Friz about us!
Noby screamed , how he screamed!
Friz , deep firing towards us , still Noby sceamde!
He went quiet , I thought: '' thank fook , for that , he's finaly dead!''
But Noby was NOT FOOKING DEAD! , He was now whimpering , calling for his mum
I swallowed , well I would have , but I could get no spit , throat , were to dry
Yes , dry through fear!
I chanced it , pop me head out , saw Noby , crawled out of the safety of the me
'ole , in the ground, I took a gamble , grabbed , Noby , I ran back to the 'ole
Threw Noby in , as I jumper back in , Noby , lived still!
He were silent , at least for now , but that was not to last
He began to call out for his old mum , he was bleeding badly from his gut's
I could take anymore of his caling out , he must been heard by Fritz
I had to survive! I was due leave! go 'ome!
I decided , know what I had to do , I pushed , his head down , down in the filthy
Walter , a few bubbles , then he was dead , gone , quiet , for all time
I waited , then , got me self back to the safety of our trenches!
I HAD SURVIVED!
I recon I'll just lie , to Noby old mum
As we usely do , when we go home on leave
That's the form now , cant tell them truth
No time to dwell on that just now , me chums yell ,
''Come on , or aint got a 'ome to go to ''
'' Well chum weve got one! '' '' shift you're ace! ''
We clambered aboard the transport
All eager to leave the front behind
Plans to go down the pub back home
To Ramsgate , go on a pub crawl
Start of in the Red Lion , end up who cared where
Look forward to sinking some proper English beer
Sink a few bevies , get proper drunk , legless
We reach Boulogne , board the ship on way home
Folkestone , train and home , hear we come!
Ready or not!
Ken D Williams
The Dyslexic Wordsmith
Poetry by ken d williams
Read 588 times
Written on 2014-02-10 at 19:38
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
