Soldiers tale. 1982

 

Dressed as a pauper.

looks like a thief.

Pushing the boundaries 

Of your disbelief.

The raggedy man

in raggedy pants.

Arguing loudly

incoherent rants.

Stares covered in shame

Thinking of different

things to blame.

Don’t talk to him

he’s only a tramp.

Stay away from

his miserable stance.

Heap your scorn

on his shambling form.

Never minding why

he’s so forlorn.

 

But try to expand 

your closed off mind.

Try to see someone 

don’t be so blind.

Cause I’ll tell you about

One that I’ve often seen.

Was one of our proudest

Royal Marines. 

And blown up and battered

when he came back.

Visions and horrors 

stacked upon stack.

He did a lot for 

our union jack.

Although he say’s 

with true modesty,

It was all for me mates

on that front line with me.

 

So next time

You flinch at a

Shambling spectre,

Spare a thought, 

about what you 

think you might know.

Instead of planning 

how to pass go.

You might want to see

a little bit beyond his poor facade.

One time this lad held a rank

in a fighting Brigade.

You might need to go over

and you might need to thank.

The lad in the doorway.

Looking so dank.

Dwell upon him if you can,

Who went off as a boy

and came back home

this damaged old man.