ramblings and things

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Men of my generation

Just arent supposed to cry

So I’m standing here

With just sightly moist eye


For more than fifty years

You were y friend

Friendshi overcoming 

Most things in the end.

But  not this time

Thanks to foolish pride;

Neither ableto see things

From the other one’s side.


Now I’m standing here 

For old time’s sake

Booted and suited 

For your funeral and wake,

And I’ll stand bh your box

And whisper ypir name:

If it were me 

You’d do the same.


Then its off to the wake

To chew on the fat

Old squaddie mates 

Are pretty good at that.

But for a while 

We’ll just sit and think.

On the table untouched,

The absent friends drink.


Goodbye my old mate

Since squaddie days,

Always remembered for 

Your eccentric ways

And when it’s time

To be be on our way

We’ll wonder who’ll be missing  

At our next funeral day.


And as men of our generation

Just aren’t supposed to cry

We’ll all shake hands

With just sightly moist eye


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Wake 2