He lived next door but one to us
and chased me down the entry.
We went to school and played our tricks.
We worked at weaving - wenched and fished.

Listened to the deadly yarn
the friendly seargeant spun.
Signed us up, lined us up like bobbins
waiting for our places in the sun.

Willie shared a fage with me
before the whistle blew.
We had a packet left
so shared our memories too.

We walked straight as shuttles
through that valley of the Somme.
Six hundred fell with Willie
'neath the barrage from the ***.

The slaughter carried on.

The East Lancs filled our ranks
from outside Accrington.
Will sharing **** catch on?