Sword of Honour

His father was an Aristocrat His mother a high class whore And he attended Public School As had his ancestors before, Achieved a First at Oxbridge, Sword of Honour at Sandhurst, Served in Bosnian with UNFOR Saw genocide at its very worst. He resigned his commission Following his service there Couldn’t cope with the memories The sense of guilt and despair. He dosses on the Streets now A homeless hulk without a name Disowned by his family and Just seen as a bringer of shame. The people on the streets Try to avoid his eye, Toss him the odd coin As they pass him by. He nods his head in gratitude But he’s not really there As he copes with his demons Behind his thousand yards stare. All people see is a vagrant, An alcoholic and a souse. He’s in Line for the title and A seat in the Upper House. Nobody gives a toss about The many cases like him. That’s just the modern world You either sink or swim. Come and join the forces Show that you are willing To go and serve your country Accept the Old Queen’s Shilling. Learn to fight and kill Sell your service on the cheap And if you crack and break You’re out on the scrap heap.