Decaying corpses, unique stench
With cordite blowing, past our trench
I no longer hear the warning rattle
But smell and taste impending battle

In the distance sounds a Lewis Gun
Maybe aimed at some unlucky Hun
So far in front of our barbed wire
Amongst the brown serrated mire

The Corporal said this place was ‘Wipers’
Mud and blood and German Snipers
The Sergeant Major called it Ypres
...

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His Mother makes them both a snack

Jamal, he sits out in the back

Upon an empty old rice sack

Flip-flops and bottle tops

In Gaza, fun for girls and boys

Are simple things that make no noise

For Jamal they're his favourite toys

Flip-flops and bottle tops

He plays outside in rubble dust

His Mother smiles and is not fussed

It's safer there but only just

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