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AIN'T IT GRAND

STEPHEN MORROW Avatar  Send Soup Mail  Block poet from commenting on your poetry

Below is the poem entitled AIN'T IT GRAND which was written by poet STEPHEN MORROW. Please feel free to comment on this poem. However, please remember, PoetrySoup is a place of encouragement and growth.

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AIN'T IT GRAND

June 01/1916
So it’s off to war!  
By they were glad  
Singing and whistling a tune every lad
With a swing of their arms 
and a smile on their lips
And a shine in their eyes
For the gals in white slips
So it’s march down to the station
To board for the front
With a hiss and a whistle
And pull and a shunt
Then just one last look
At the girls with a tear in their eyes
We will be home for Christmas
So no need to cry
The Germans can’t shoot straight
Their bullets are rubber
So hold your tears girl
There is no need to blubber

At the front ONE MONTH LATER July 01-1916 
Battle of the Somme

So we will dig our trenches
And sleep in the mud
The weather’s quite cold
And the food’s not that good
Sarge blows a whistle
And over we go
One at a time or all in a row
The noise is quite deafening
The bullets whiz by
A strange sort of noise hearing men die
Some they go quickly with not even a whimper
Some take all night caught in the moons
 glimmer
Trapped in the wire, trod in the mud
Guts lay beside them leaking life’s blood.
Screams and cry’s 
They cut through the cold night air
For a man to end his life this way just don’t seem fair

Please Don’t leave me alone
OH MOTHER PLEASE HELP ME!
I want to go home! 
My tummy’s hurting
Please don’t leave me alone

So I lay in my trench, hands over my ears
The rain on my face hiding my tears
While somebody’s father somebody’s son
Somebody’s sweetheart
Who’s life’s just begun
Pleads for his mother to stop his pain
And hold him in her arms
Just once again
But she will never hear
Her boys last request
She will never again see his boyish zest
never to hold him in her arms again
Or ruffle his hair or soothe his pain

‘Whistle Whistle‘
Well there’s no time to day dream
And no time to dither
‘Cause the Sergeant is calling
And so through the mud we must slither
Over the top keep your head down
Try not to trod on those laying down
Past little Jimmy stuck on the fence
This bloody war don’t make any sense
I feel a slight tingle running down my spine
My legs are numb they don’t feel like mine
It’s all going dark now
I think I’ll just lay down here
Feel really tired but mam will soon be here
To tuck me in and ruffle my hair
And tell me a story about ‘Rabbit Brer’
Lights fading fast now
Time to sleep
Good night sweet Jesus
My soul pray you keep

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  1. Date: 1/30/2011 5:51:00 PM
    This poem made me cry. Beautifully done. Thank you for sharing. Love, Vienna.

  1. Date: 1/30/2011 1:53:00 PM
    Welcome to Poetry Soup.. so enjoyed reading your creative write tonight.. hope your time on Soup will be fun and filled with sharing.. check out our contests too.. good luck with luv..

  1. Date: 1/29/2011 2:02:00 PM
    Quite devotional andn inspirational write yiou have penned, Stephen,