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Trench Warfare

It's cold and damp these days
Living in this blooming trench
There's mud and slime and muck
And that awful awful stench.
The rats are living with us,
They just seem to thrive
In these conditions where,
For us,  it's hard to stay alive.

When it's stand downtime
I just let  my mind to roam
Across those foreign miles
To my Yorkshire village home.
I go see the little cob
And each Shire in its stall
In my ploughing days
I've worked with them all.
I chat with the cows
Munching in their pens
See the cackling geese
And walk every road and lane
Every little street
Check all those places
Where we used to meet.
Climb into the loft
Still full of hay
Where we took our pleasure
That precious summer day.
Made our promises
Of our love for evermore
 And the very  next day
I went off to join their war.

It's almost dawn now and
The rats have gone away
I think they must sleep
During the day,
So I close down my thoughts
And come back to the hell
Of this wet cold trench
And that awful awful smell.
Over by Christmas they said
Yet I am still here
Somehow I've survived
To the start of my third year.

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