The band was already playing
a marching song
and officers, non-commissioned ranks
and troops spotless
in berets, browns and shining boots
marched and halted in perfect unison
on the parade ground.
With a flat hat like a chauffeur,
or maybe like the baggage man
at the hotel
with visor just above his eyes,
dressed in step outs
he drove the Mercedes Benz
through the gate
to the parking aria
next to the parade grounds
bringing it to a elegant halt,
jumped out and walked
right to the back door
bended double and opened it
to let a lady and younger woman out.
Then with pace stick
swinging to and fro
on he came like the leader
of the band
but in control
of the whole parade,
set over officers outranking him
waving the stick in his hand,
walking up and down
like a huge red faced clown.
[RSM = Regimental Sergeant-Major.]
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem