In seventy four we were just lads
They lined us up
In front of the Drill Hall
All a bit strange to us
Some parents too who looked so proud
The courses marched past
Then someone spoke and instructors bellowed
The squads doubled around the parade ground
The parents all laughed and I smiled
An instructor came and called the roll
Parents said goodbye
And they took us to the Quartermasters store
Khaki cotton and a black balmoral
It was the first year of forty-four.
© Paul Warren Poetry
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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