On the Shelf

They are out selling the poppies In this run up to Remembrance Day But they’ve confused Remembrance With doing things the cheap way. When I joined the colours I knew I could be sent off to war I just didn’t realise that I wouldn't’ be needed anymore If I came back bent and broken With scars deep in my mind A future looking bleak And my best years behind. Oh, you paraded at Wootton Bassett, Wept your tears for the dead, And you wore your scarlet poppies Coloured for past blood shed But when my wounds mended And I could use my artificial leg I was thrown on the state Almost like having to beg. And such treatment is normal For children partners and wives Of all those who went to serve And in duty gave their lives, Or, worse still, survived To feel the despair Of being on the scrap heap When very few people care. You call us all heroes Just once a year, Dig in your pockets when Remembrance Day draws near, And then seem to forget That we are still alive And for the rest of the time We have to fight to survive. They have to sell the poppies For without Charity’s help This so called grateful nation Has thrown veterans on the shelf.