PICTURES OF MANY WARS

'PICTURES OF MANY WARS.'

By Robert Davidson.

Many more from war are returning now
In varnished wood boxes each quite alone;
Boxes nicely draped with flags, ready to occupy
A polished white mansion of marble or stone.

Buildings fall in thick columns of smoke, as
Bombs drop death on each wife and daughter,
'Midst the roar of guns, hitting the innocent, and
Out-does old King Herod's cold-blooded slaughter.

Despite doing war's dark deeds of carnage,
The common soldier is quite a nice bloke;
Destroying towns, taking spoils, raping women; so
I guess war's desolation is just no joke.

Prudently the Church remains quite neutral
As Cain coldly dispatches his brother's hide;
While the President safe in his White House bunker
Watches TV as the world's wounds gape wide.

Having copped a nice bit of red hot steel,
I heard the war would be ending quite soon;
They were taking us boys off the field on stretchers
As heroes home for Christmas. Oh, what a boon!

Long had I feared I would never come back,
Thought I'd be laid out cold; many dead near me.
Being wounded I dreaded my return, since
I knew how strange and diff'rent it all would be.

Now the war was over, peace did me wrong,
Came home to wash the car and mow the lawns;
I learned while overseas, just doing my bit,
The wife had given me a nice pair of horns.

Still war-songs yet roar. I've lived too long, and
Don't want this world's mad wars of weary woe;
Or shout win the day, or cry hooray; just because
War's dire law says man's every man's foe.

Poppies blaze red where so many lie,
I guess we came to the war-game, only to die.