I don't know them


I don't know them

I won't fight them

I can't hate them

I won't make the shells

To tear men limb from limb

I won't make bullets

To maim them.

And even to heal 

Would set the seal

On a war

That no justice will serve

They go off to the war

With a smile and a wave

With no thought that they'd all

Soon be trained to behave

Like wild animals.

They'll be given a gun

With a knife on the end

And made to try

With a horrible cry

To kill a poor man

Filled with hate they'd rake

His stomach and make

His guts spill on the floor

Just straw

No more

For now

I won't do that

I won't parade

I won't parade

Or march, wheel and stamp

In a military camp

I won't parade

I won't parade

Or in any way join in their ghastly charade

Or follow their orders

© nigel hallworth / BarbaraTremewan 2014