We Won't Meet Again Poem by Francie Lynch

I'm nostalgic for those old wars;
The coloured Roses kind,
With heroes and villains named Henry or Joe.
Wars that inspired poems about fields and bunkers.
And songs. So many catchy lilts with
Tipperary, white cliffs and battleships.
And slogans that made children want to fight
Against Loose Lips and encrypted blips on collateral damages.
I'd proudly enlist to serve with John Wayne,
And kill all those nasty Tojos, Huns and Wops.
Just made you want to sing and dance away the millions dead.
And how the community chipped in with their war efforts.
They'd congeal around balls of tinfoil and victory gardens,
Handing flowers to their marching sons on Main St.
Sending them off to a glorious campaign!
And the pulpit and towers exalted the efforts:
God is with us.
Shangdi yu women tong zai.
Dieu est avec nous.
Gott ist mit uns.
Bag s nami.
Dio e con noi.
(He is omnipresent)

There are no memorable songs
About Nagasaki.
We've seen some brain numbing pics
About Hiroshima.

We won't meet again near any cliffs.
One bomb,
And...
Phsssszzzzzt!
(Hard to sing that)