My Boy Jack
1914-18
Have you news of my boy Jack?"
Not this tide.
"When d'you think that he'll come back?"
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.


"Has any one else had word of him?: "
Not this tide.
For what is sunk will hardly swim,
Not with this wind blowing, and this tide.


"Oh, dear, what comfort can I find?"
None this tide,
Nor any tide,
Except he did not shame his kind--
Not even with that wind blowing, and that tide.


Then hold your head up all the more,
This tide,
And every tide;
Because he was the son you bore,
And gave to that wind blowing and that tide!

lot of dust in here, Iluv Kipling


the young british soldier.
last verse


when you'r wounded an left on Afghanistans planes,
an' the women come out to cut up what remains,
jest roll to your rifele an' blow out your brains,
an' go to your Gaws like a soldier.
go,go,go like a soldier

Originally Posted by BiscuitsAB

Originally Posted by Markintime

We've already had one Eric Bogle poem, "The Green Fields of France", here's another, equally poignant one:

now thats powerful

Really hurts to hear Shane and the Pogues sing it

Article in the Sunday Times today on modern war poetry - should be available online tomorrow (I think).

Ref Sunday Times, it is already online. The link is - www.timesonline.co.uk/warpoetry

At the risk of being sentimental, can I thank everyone who's contributed to this thread so far. It never fails to impress me, the breadth that Arrse can cover, from the Naafi Bar through to learned discussions being used in Commons Select Committees, and being able to quote poetry at each other at one in the morning (cough, cough, birds, Top Gear, football0

Scots, Wha Hae Wi' Wallace Bled
by Robert Burns

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled,
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led,
Welcome to your gory bed,
Or to victory!

Now's the day, and now's the hour;
See the front o' battle lour,
See approach proud Edward's power—
Chains and slavery!

Wha will be a traitor-knave?
Wha can fill a coward's grave?
Wha sae base as be a slave?
Let him turn and flee!

Wha for Scotland's king and law
Freedom's sword will strongly draw,
Freeman stand or freeman fa',
Let him follow me!

By oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins,
But they shall be free!

Lay the proud usurpers low!
Tyrants fall in ev'ry foe!
Liberty's in ev'ry blow!
Let us do or die!

On His Seventy-fifth Birthday - Walter Savage Landor

I strove with none; for none was worth my strife;
Nature I loved, and next to Nature, Art;
I warmed both hands before the fire of life;
It sinks, and I am ready to depart.

When you almost die
you look at life with a differant eye,
important things seem realy mundane,
and simple things visions one must retain,
walking the dogs is an important pleasurs, and an old photograph
becomes a priceless tresure.

Death Of A Ball Turret Gunner, Randall Jarrett
---------------------------------------------

From my mother's sleep I fell into the State

And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze.

Six miles from earth, loosed from the dream of life,

I woke to black flack and the nightmare fighters.

And when I died they washed me out of the turret with a hose.

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Not quite sure what the 'State' is, but the rythm of that last line is just stunning.