My mate ted
Had his head
blown of,
He’s dead.
My mate Stan
Stood on a mine
His legs flew of
Life’s so unkind.
Freddie Drew
Got blown up
in his tank,
His mum got
A letter, his burnt
Body stank.
Many innocent people
Turned into killers
Turning flesh into
Body bag fillers.
Mothers fathers sons and daughters
Succumbed to there deaths
Just all been slaughtered.
All good memories have been wiped clean
No good memories war is just obscene.