Gerard Woods

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Best Poem of Gerard Woods

The Somme

Over the hill
There the bullets where flying
Over the hill, men were dying
Forward towards the enemy trenches and
Rifle and machine gun fire
Men where falling
But not one man would retire
Forward to the guns
Over the wire, men where crawling
Hundreds falling under and over the wire
Towards the guns and the machine gun fire
But no man would retire
Except by enemy rifle and machine gun fire

Little ground had been taken
But at no time where the ranks breaking
Onwards forward
Towards the enemy trenches
And the rifle and machine gun fire ...

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