Flanders Mud Poem by Geoff Skellon

FLANDERS MUD
A song of the soldiers, after the war

Flanders mud, Flanders mud,
A million dead for no damn good,
They went to show the world they could,
They're under crosses made of wood.

Some were blown to smithereens,
Mostly kids still in their teens,
But some are lame and some are blind,
And some are simply off their minds.

Light a candle, say a prayer,
Some survive, and that's not fair,
But the world just doesn't care
To know what they have suffered there.

It's hard for them to laugh and sing,
And hard the nightmares that sleep brings,
So don't switch off the bedroom light,
They'll wake up screaming in the night.

Just walk down rows of Portland stone,
And think about the boys you've known,
That lived in Everybody Street,
And now lie dead beneath your feet.

They didn't think that they would die,
They didn't think to wonder why,
They just went off, expecting glory,
Now few are left to tell their story.

Those who live, the world's forgotten,
Forgotten too, the dead and rotten,
All those deaths and all the that pain,
To stop it happening again……………..

Geoff Skellon
November 2008