digging out those trenches
shooting with your guns
missing there lovely wenches
and there upset dads and mums
getting on a train
many never reappeared
your in the pouring rain
and face is bloody smeared
etching nearer, towards enemy
no time to panic, nor fear
hearts beating unpleasantly
now yearning for a beer
day and night you battle
no time for rest or sleep
no time for tittle tattle
most of the time you weep
cant wait to get on that train
the train that takes you home
even in the pouring rain
there's no place like home
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem