Hiding in a trench
In the mud of Flanders
Fighting for the French
One slipped off the duckboards
The sniper caught him well
With a bullet through the helmet
He didn’t even yell
Nine young lads from Manchester
Keeping heads well down
One slipped and lost his footing
In oozing mud he drowned
Shrapnel shells burst overhead
With no where to run
Hot metal tearing through their flesh
Another two had gone
Marching slowly onward
Six could not turn back
Three gas masks were damaged
When they took the gas attack
Bulging eyes and grasping hands
Foaming breath and spray
Tormented and in agony
All three passed away
The whistle blew” over the top”
The last three start to race
Two of them were cut in half
By machine gun bullet trace
The last young boy from Manchester
Sixteen and battle worn
Will be shot for cowardice
Tomorrows break of dawn
In the mud of Flanders
Fighting for the French
One slipped off the duckboards
The sniper caught him well
With a bullet through the helmet
He didn’t even yell
Nine young lads from Manchester
Keeping heads well down
One slipped and lost his footing
In oozing mud he drowned
Shrapnel shells burst overhead
With no where to run
Hot metal tearing through their flesh
Another two had gone
Marching slowly onward
Six could not turn back
Three gas masks were damaged
When they took the gas attack
Bulging eyes and grasping hands
Foaming breath and spray
Tormented and in agony
All three passed away
The whistle blew” over the top”
The last three start to race
Two of them were cut in half
By machine gun bullet trace
The last young boy from Manchester
Sixteen and battle worn
Will be shot for cowardice
Tomorrows break of dawn
No comments:
Post a Comment