Such is the plight of all
Who answer to the nations call
Some survive but many fall
Wrapped within a funeral caul
Those returning cast aside
Ridiculed no place to hide
Homeless, stripped of their pride.
Wishing it was them who died
The battlefield, forgotten name
Upon their backs society's shame
Regret the day they homeward came
No Parade or Victory fame.
If you see them lying in the street
Don't hurry by by with rushing feet
Extend your hand with friendship greet
And say well met and merry meet.
Robin. A Spicer (c) 28/02/2006