The Trench

We stand here in our muddy trench,
And raise a glass to all.
For those who are about to die,
And those who've gone before.

There is no glory to be found,
when hiding in these holes.
Clinging grimly onto life,
Praying for our souls.

The air is thick; the stench of fear,
We step through rotting dead,
Wishing we were miles away,
From horrors just ahead.

Its time to face the enemy,
And make the blighters pay.
So all stand by your ladders lads,
We're leaving here today.

The whistle blows, we're on the move,
The sound of firing starts,
The first man out is blasted back,
A bullet through his heart.

Fear has run its course for now,
All goes quiet and numb,
Each man says a final prayer,
His turn to die has come.

I reach the top, rush blindly out,
Run straight on through the blast,
Time slows with every second,
I have visions of the past.

A childhood filled with time to waste,
Endless days of fun.
Loving parents, playing games,
And laughter in the sun.

Leaving school and starting work,
A girl to call my own.
Finding love and marriage,
Joy of children fills my home.

Those final seconds filled with grief,
The searing pain of loss,
My children with their endless love,
Will always know the cost.

My lovely wife, with tender touch,
what I wouldn't gladly do,
For one more moment in your arms,
To wake again with you.

So remember me in times to come,
And raise a glass to all.
For those who are about to die,
and those who've gone before.