Terracotta Thoughts Of A Terracotta Warrior Poem by C Richard Miles

Does a terracotta army hold much terror for the fray?
For it hasn’t got a chance to march with sluggish feet of clay
And its terracotta armour would just shatter into crumbs,
If a terrorist determined that he’d lob some mortar bombs.

But a terracotta warrior is less likely to be hurt,
As he wouldn’t bleed to death with a bullet through his shirt.
When a terracotta fighter makes mistakes, you can’t ditch him,
As he’s fired already, though he may be slightly dim:

If a terracotta trooper tried to have thoughts, they’d be dashed,
Since it is rather likely that he’d probably be smashed,
As a terracotta pot is only fit to hold strong drink
And no way could clay be moulded to shape itself and think.

So our terracotta hero’s here and surely means to stay
And you’ve never got to fear, though he may try to get away.
“But, how? ” you ask, “Can statues move? ” The answer is, of course,
When in museum’s he’s mounted, he rides a terracotta horse.

So if terracotta soldiers disappear when on parade
It’s since they’ve got a penchant for a wedge of woody glade
But curators needn’t worry, as there can be no dismay
For, if they went, the day would come when terror got away.