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 ramblings and things

Lawrence of Neasden,
Man of action in the past,
Reflected with dismay
How life had moved so fast.
So many years gone now
Since they’d gone to war
And Lawrence no longer
Rode his camel anymore.

It’s ashes rest in an urn
On the mantle shelf
Alongside photos of it
And Lawrence himself,
All dressed in style
In their combat gear
With others of the Corps
All paraded in the rear.

Sometimes it brought
Many tears to his eye
When he recalled
Their last fond goodbye
Before they’d all dispersed
Their duties well done
Secure in the knowledge of
A fine victory won.

There’s an empty space now
There in Lawrence’s carport
Where in the state of emergency
All the troops would report.
He can hear the harness jingle,
Hear the camels throaty roar,
Where in his mind Lawrence
Rides his camel once more.


Through the streets of Neasden. 

If the breeze is just right,

Sometimes there’s a little jingle

In the stillness of the night 

Is it the shade of Lawrence

Loyal to the very end

One last phantom patrol

Atop his faithful camel friend. 


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