I wrote this two years ago; it was considered “too strong” for the Armisitice centenary show Dale Amateur Dramatic Society jointly presented with the local History Group.
FOR KING, FOR COUNTRY, FOR NOTHING
Happy Jack from Pembrokeshire,
The day that he left school,
Signed up to join the Army;
His best friend said, ‘You fool!’
But Jack, he wouldn’t listen,
He didn’t have one qualm,
Because a girl called Mary
Thought she liked the uniform.
On the first day Jack was out in France
He heard the thundering guns;
And the Sergeant Major said to Jack,
‘Lad, welcome to the fun!’
Our Jack wrote home, ‘I do not mind
To feel the thumps of five-point-nines:
Tonight, when I dream in my bed
I’ll hear great waves at Saint Ann’s Head.’
On the second day Jack was in France
He heard the whistling shells;
And the Sergeant Major said to Jack,
‘Just an hour’s march to where they fell!’
But Jack now wrote, ‘I do not care
How many wails might fill the air:
Tonight, asleep on my billet floor
I’ll dream of curlews on the shore.’
On the third day Jack was out in France
He saw chlorine clouds, all yellow;
And the Sergeant Major said to Jack,
‘That’s instant death, young fellow!’
That night Jack wrote, ‘I’m not alarmed
By what I’ve seen today:
It recalled our bright Corn Marigolds
In the second crop of hay.’
On the fourth day Jack was out in France
The machine guns cracked and rattled;
And the Sergeant Major said to Jack,
‘This is going to be some battle!’
Wrote shaking Jack, ‘That racket
Doesn’t bother me at all:
I just hear the chattering magpies
Upon our garden wall.’
The next day, they went up the line,
And there was mud and rusty wire;
And the Sergeant Major said to Jack,
‘Your first time under fire!’
Jack scribbled fast, ‘They comfort me,
These colours here, today:
They remind me of the rugged cliffs
All round dear West Dale Bay.’
Just after Jack had written that,
He was a lad no more –
Just another black-edged telegram
To drop through someone’s door;
Alas, the lies he’d written
Didn’t disappear as well –
So those stupid, stupid, stupid, lies
Got posted home from Hell.
And Mary, whom he’d never kissed,
Saw him lying, cleanly killed;
But Jack was just all shreds of meat
It what was once a field.
And Jack’s friend thought,
‘At least old Jack was carefree to the end!’
So he signed up, and very soon
His telegram got sent.
They say the new computer games
Are super-realistic:
The graphics, and the sound effects,
The terrain and the ballistics…
But to really make it feel like war –
The first time you’re attacked,
You should be ripped apart by shrapnel
And then left to feed the rats.