Lawrence of Neasden, Stood Down

They called him Lawrence of Neasden And he dressed in Khaki shorts And he always rode a camel Which he kept in his car port They arrived there in Central Neasden Having ridden all through the night To arrive with the breaking dawn In a throat constricting sight. Silently they rode, apart From the harness jingle, An eerie sort of sound That made nerves tingle. It would take a certain type or person Not to appreciate the solemn beauty Of Lawrence and his Camel Corps Returning from their tour of duty. After months of selfless serving On channel tunnel patrol Ungrateful Government had decided They no longer had a role. Not a sound from any lip During that final parade Just veterans progressing Proud of sacrifices made. No civic service marked their passing, No thanks from a grateful land, No recognition of the contribution Made by that devoted band: Lawrence and his Camel Corps All volunteers to a man Who never shirked their duty, Never turned and ran, In full parade order Stood there to in final salute To an ungrateful nation That didn’t give a hoot. Sometimes now in Central Neasden In the silence of the night You can hear a creaking harness, See the awe inspiring sight, Of Lawrence and his camel Carrying out a solemn ride Ready and fit for action That man of steel and pride. They called him Lawrence of Neasden And he dressed in Khaki shorts And he always rode a camel Which he kept in his car port