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To One Of Our Wounded

Rating: 2.7

Old Man, by your broad contented grin
And the gleam in your quiet eyes,
You are back with 'Jorrocks' and 'Binjimin'
In the land where the good fun lies;
You are riding where rifles reach you not
On a line both safe and sure
From the meet at the 'Cat and Custard Pot'
To the kill on Wandermoor.
In vain do the cannon of memory call
From the Flanders fields forlorn,

When you hear by the stacks of Barley Hall
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