ramblings and things

924,205 poems read


Shot At Dawn



They shot poor Johnny at dawn today, 

Drunk and tied to a chair

They'd filled him full of whisky

Just to get him there.

After three years of service

His life came to an end:

He was still only nineteen 

When they murdered my best friend.



 

Shocked and dazed and shattered

From his last over the top attack

He'd wandered from the line,

To be caught on his way back.

Just to join the colours

He'd lied about his age 

For two meals a day and

A soldiers regular wage.



Hunger's a great motivation, 
Just a bit of security he sought

Too young to know and realise

His life was what they'd bought.

Lack of moral fibre they call it

No consideration for what he'd done

No respect for his courage 

Or personaL battles that he'd won.



Just a boy when he enlisted

When this war began

And three years of conflict

Changed him to a man.

Very quiet was my mate

Very seldom spoke

And in that last charge

Something finally broke.



I hope it was quick

The final bullet that he faced

I hope he didn't need that
Final Coup de Grace.

Shot at dawn they call it

I hope come victory day

They bring them to account

And make those Generals pay.



But, no bullet for a Rupert

In a whisky induced haze;

No they treat a Rupert

In such very different ways.

It’s a ticket back to blighty

And a sanitorium mental bed

And in certain time recovery,

No dawn bullet to the head.



We fought for King and Country

Germans on the other hand

Threw their lives away for

God and The Fatherland.

We'll have a land fit for heroes 

They promise after this war;

Be it promise or pie crust it won’t matter 

For all those poorJohnny's anymore.




Comment On This Poem --- Vote for this poem
Shot At Dawn