A Poem Poem by Andrew Wright

I've lost lots of things worthwhile, my pleasure and my gun,
And the days of my capture, pass slowly one by one,
But as I sit in loneliness, each day more plain to see,
My body may be captured, but my heart and mind are free.

For o'er the wastes of Poland, o'er Deutschland's fields of grain,
To woods and fields of northern France, I wander once again,
Again I met old comrades, whose laughter I've oft heard,
When life was life, fun was fun, and death was but a word.

Their fight is fought, their race is run, they each have proved their worth,
Where side by side they stood at bay, they lie beneath the earth,
Yet though their laughter's silenced, their eyes no longer shine,
I've met them all quite often, for their souls are free like mine.

They tell me when they meet me, that they are glad I got away,
They say, old pal, we know each thing you think, or do, or say,
We know your lot is pretty hard, but take it on the chin,
Throw out your chest, hold up your head, for our sake don't give in.

You've hungered more than once with us, been cold and lonely too,
But always in those stormy days, our friendship helped us through,
And now our strife is over, yours is the hardest test,
Alone you represent the gang, so give us your best.