The love of war shines from the young man's eyes.

(What young girls shine with - quite beyond surmise.)

As Britain's vaunted army strides those lands

And trigger-fingers shake - bewildered hands.

 

What British madness guards the burglar's crown

From fearful force – unmeasured – I rain down,

Yet sends our warriors out against the foe,

To 'come in peace' - as violently they go?

 

What logic calls in air-strike's blunderbuss

Yet makes incongruous 'Health and Safety' fuss,

Adjuring riflemen and bombardiers:

"Shoot only bad guys - spare the good folk's tears!"

 

All this springs, surely, from a love of Peace,

A Noble Prize that brings it’s bless’d release,

Ours - bought with theirs, imposed - with heartfelt care.

Once more: in love and war, all things are fair.