Poems Junction

I mind as how the night before that show
Us five got talkin’; we was in the know.
‘Ah well,’ says Jimmy,–and he’s seen some scrappin’,
‘There ain’t no more nor five things can happen,-
You get knocked out; else wounded, bad or cushy;
Scuppered; or nowt except you’re feelin’ mushy.’

One of us got the knock-out, blown to chops;
One lad was hurt, like, losin’ both his props.
And one - to use the word of hypocrites -
Had the misfortune to be took be Fritz.
Now me, I wasn’t scratched, praise God Amighty,
Though next time please I’ll thank Him for a blighty.
But poor old Jim, he’s livin’ and he’s not;
He reckoned he’d five chances, and he had:
He’s wounded, killed, and pris’ner, all the lot,
The flamin’ lot all rolled in one. Jim’s mad.

This poem was written/submitted by Micki.

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