They lied to us

They lied to us,
from every pulpit virgin priests preached,
with fury and venom.
about sacrifice of doing the honourable thing,
for queen and country they spewed.
your duty is to later generations,
who would not forgive.
we would be the protectors of little states,
saviours from the the despicable Hun.
heroes going to war for this fair and pleasant land,
with God and the righteous on our side.
 
but what does all that matter now
as I lie here in a muddy crater
with blood seeping through my shirt
the rat-a -tat of maxim fire
and the echoing thuds of shells blasting
don't seem so bad any more
 
I turn to Liam, my comrade ,my friend.
to see he has already bled out,
a hole where his lungs used to be,
his limbs hang useless,
a face of serenity of silent joy.
amid the insanity of class genocide,
 
I take the photograph from under his hat,
his wife Maggie (who I once kissed) and their two little sons.
I place it in his hands and close his eyes.
all is becoming silent,
light is fading even though the sun is high.
 
I lie on my back in the claret water,
to watch grey clouds stroll on by,
and feel the soft French rain drip upon my face.
I whisper "forgive me Liam
it was never meant to come to this,
we should have stay in Kilteel
and drank whiskey beneath the moonlight,
stacked our hay and fed our cattle,
and gone skinny dipping with Grace and Maggie
in those long sultry days,  
when there was no prying eyes around."
 
I feel nothing only sadness.
for the life I lost with my true love Grace,
and the pleasure we could of had with our bodies entwined.
we didn't dream of much only the simple happiness,
which working folk can only achieve.
 
darkness is falling ,everything is nothing,
and I'm slipping slipping slipping slipping,
they lied the bastards lied!!!!!
slipping slipping  
slipping................
slip...........
sl........