The Pals battalion,
Young soldiers of nineteen,
The total death toll reached a million,
On the Somme in nineteen-sixteen.
The men in splendid spirits,
There was optimism in the ranks,
With co-op bombs and bayonets,
Gathered on the sunny banks.
The first bombs fell on Picardy,
Now they stood in lines to push,
They will annihilate the enemy,
No need to charge or rush.
But the German men were ready,
Their intelligence was good,
They knew about the enemy,
Their intention understood.
Our men walked into open fire,
So many lives they stole.
Shot and maimed before the wire
On their gentle morning stroll.
Bodies crushed in defeat,
In a field of flying lead,
Soldiers dropped to their feet,
Leaving many dead.
The slaughter would not stop,
In this futile ****** game,
All deserters would to be shot,
The only gain was being maimed.
Battle planning was inferior,
Senseless death was inhumane,
In the carnage and hysteria,
On the pretty red poppy plane.
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 7:43 PM UTC
The Pals battalion,
Young soldiers of nineteen,
The total death toll reached a million,
On the Somme in nineteen-sixteen.
The men in splendid spirits,
There was optimism in the ranks,
With co-op bombs and bayonets,
Gathered on the sunny banks.
The first bombs fell on Picardy,
Now they stood in lines to push,
They will annihilate the enemy,
No need to charge or rush.
But the German men were ready,
Their intelligence was good,
They knew about the enemy,
Their intention understood.
Our men walked into open fire,
So many lives they stole.
Shot and maimed before the wire
On their gentle morning stroll.
Bodies crushed in defeat,
In a field of flying lead,
Soldiers dropped to their feet,
Leaving many dead.
The slaughter would not stop,
In this futile ****** game,
All deserters would to be shot,
The only gain was being maimed.
Battle planning was inferior,
Senseless death was inhumane,
In the carnage and hysteria,
On the pretty red poppy plane.
