There Was No Choice Poem by Damian Cranney

Go chase them from their dugouts,
Go chase them from their trench,
bayonet all their Look outs,
ignore their dead's foul stench.

Tomorrow you go over,
The top, that is my lads,
and there is very little chance,
of your return from France.

The rattle of machine guns,
displace a man with space,
That space, is Soon refilled,
with another of his race.

'No man's Land, ' is where they die,
their bodies all strewn around like chaff,
with eyes unblinking, to the sky,
Never again to smile or laugh.

This was the war, to end all wars,
Well that hope now lies buried, ,
Man cannot close, hell's gaping doors,
his hope of peace, a losing cause.

It is not the dead that answer,
When you ask the question why,
But they showed us by example,
How to live and how to die.

Their lives they gave, for freedom's sake,
To save Our heritage, their dream,
To remember them all, is the pledge we take,
Our debttheir sacrifice,to redeem.