March of the Bulldog
Thirteen times that flag when down
Thirteen times picked from the ground
Thrust aloft by last man standing
With the mortar shells still landing
Wield the colours twenty paces
Over fallen friendly faces
’til the mortars take a rest
Leaving shrapnel in his chest
Man and colours, each goes down
To the muddied blooded ground
Laboured is his final breath
Raised the flag with all he’s left
Soon the battle no more loud
Flag of Britain flying proud
All her fallen sprawled around
Oberst doesn’t take it down
Shakes his head, he isn’t grinning
He says, ‘Wir können nicht gewinnen.’
Oberst = Colonel
Wir können nicht gewinnen = We cannot win
Copyright © Terry Flood | Year Posted 2021
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