#soldierslife
(A fresh poem echoing the weary humour and fatalism of old gunner ballads) “The Gunner’s Road” — after the traditional Gunner’s Lament. By LongJohn, in honour of the traditional Royal Artillery song.
The road was long before us,
and longer still behind,
with the guns trundling steady
like they had a mind of their own.
We cursed the mud,
laughed at the rain,
and shared what little warmth
a battered flask could offer.
But when the order came,
we stood to —
no grumbling then,
just the quiet pride
of men who knew their craft.
And though the world forgets
the ones who walked that endless road,
we remember each other.
That’s enough.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 6:02 AM UTC
Ready For Parade
In the barracks at dawn, before the sun has risen high
The sound of boots being polished fills the sky
The recruits stand in neat rows, with rags in hand
Working diligently to make their boots look grand
Their faces are set in a determined line
As they work to make their footwear shine
For the parade is approaching, a day of pride
And not a speck of dirt can be left to hide
They scrub and buff with all their might
Their boots must be perfect, a gleaming sight
For the honour of their unit, their country, and more
They work on, knowing what they're fighting for
With every stroke, they strive for perfection
Their dedication a soldier's true reflection
The gleam in their eyes matches the shine on their boots
As they prepare for the parade, wearing their best suits
In the stillness of morning, their efforts resound
A symphony of hard work, on this hallowed ground
And when the parade begins, their boots catch the light
Marching in unison, a proud and formidable sight
The onlookers cheer, as the recruits march on by
Their boots reflecting the pride in their eyes
For they are the soldiers, the protectors, the brave
And today, even their boots march and behave.
By Paul Baldry (LongJohn)
Feb 20
Feb 20, 2026 at 12:11 PM UTC