Nowhere to go: Life in the WW1 Trench
We will Remember Them
By John Woz Jr,Published 2 years ago • 1 min read
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Photo by The New York Public Library on Unsplash
The rain has stopped, but the shells have not.
The sergeant was here, he took a bullet and knows no fear.
The mud is cold, and four inch thick.
That smells like mustard, carried by the wind.
The officer brings rum, for we have not won.
No robin or nest, just birds of war.
There lies old Jock, eaten by rats.
Our boys are no more, they’re men of this war.
Remember them then, remember them now, remember them tomorrow.
They shall not grow old, for we that are left grow old.
About the Creator
John Woz Jr,
John is a sports nut. He's a freelance journalist and long suffering soccer fan. He is a freelance writer, author, and mental health advocate. twitter @jwozniak16
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