A young man listens to the screaming of his comrades
As he is sitting as limply as a rag doll in the muddy trenches
Behind him is an explosion and he screams out in tortured agony
His body is one of the many left in the war field surrounded by bombshells.
They all go for the glory
But is this all so?
For as many that leave
Twice as many don't ever return
As the bombs explode and bullets zap across the bloodied field
Cries of anguish arr heard, as young soldiers dis gallant deaths.
And aound the muddy trenches bodies litter the ground,
As all who would be left behind but not forgotten lay still.
The young men go marching off to war
Thinking it is all glory but soon they will relize the terrible truth.
Is all this pain and sufferning worth the result?
Or is it all thoughtless death and destruction?
Now the old men are left and have one day a year
To commemortate the death of their comrades
Who died heroes' deaths fighting side by side for the place they call home.
In reality we will never know what it was like for them, but in our hearts,
We can remeber all they did for us in those fatal times.