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The Aftermath

 Although my blood I've shed
 In war's red wrath,
Oh how I darkly dread
 Its aftermath!
Oh how I fear the day
 Of my release,
When I must face the fray
 Of phoney peace!

When I must fend again
 In labour strife;
And toil with sweat and strain
 For kids and wife.
The world is so upset I battled for, That grimly I regret The peace of war.
The wounds are hard to heal Of shell and shard, But O the way to weal Is bitter hard! Though looking back I see A gory path, How bloody black can be War's Aftermath!

Poem by Robert William Service
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