ANZAC poem

from the cities, from the towns. from the farms, and from all around. they swarmed in their droves to sign their names away to a story that was golden. to a story that was sold. so it was said to them; "you`ll be home in time to sit around the Christmas tree." "don't be touched by the coward's hand." "stand up and be a man." you must do it for king and country. we promise you of excitement, adventures across the seas they sailed, to land in some foreign bay of a land far, far away. with its stretch of suicidal sand, it`s hills that echoed with gunfire. Johnny The Turk was awaiting. for it was his land they were on, and every man has a right to defend his home. but orders were orders and they had to respect them. no matter what was the cost. they soon realised their dreams were quickly turning into their nightmares. and watched as their innocence flew away on a demons wing. as they bore witness to man`s inhumanity, towards fellow man. had they found hades abode. the days turned into weeks. the weeks turned into months. summer into winter. so they had to accept this was their home, away from home. now their story is etched in stone. with teary eyes we remember those who never again saw home. their heads rest deep, in some far off foreign soil. it was a sacrifice and no-one had a win but I suppose in war no-one wins --------------------------------------------------------- remembering the ANZAC`s...lest we forget