Jest bronze – you wouldn’t ever know,
To see it jest a-lying there,
It’s really made o’ golden hair,
And firm young flesh as white as snow.
No gold, nor none o’ them art tones –
Only two ‘ands and willing feet,
A sturdy form, a young ‘eart’s beat,
Two gay, bright eyes – jest blood and bones….
My blood and bones, my ‘eart…..Ah! well,
They wrote to tell me it was fine
To see the way he laid that mine,
So brave and smiling…then he fell…
There never was no ‘olding ‘im,
And there it must a’ bin the same.
But, ‘fore he…went… he called my name..
Eh, but it makes my old eyes dim
To think I was so far away….
Yes, that’s ‘is photo. Look at it,
Say don’t you think I’ve done my bit!…
Jest bronze…… Gawd! What a price to pay!
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From guest John Ferguson (contact)
Brilliant, thank you for posting this up here. Ever since I studied it for A-Level English Lit, I've been looking for a copy of it to read again. Medals, even a VC, aren't much comfort for those left behind...
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