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smile, smile, smile - david moore lyrics

head to limp head, the sunk*eyed wounded scanned
yesterday’s mail; the casualties (typed small)
and (large) vast booty from our latest haul
also, they read of cheap homes, not yet planned;
“for,” said the paper, “when this war is done
the men’s first instinct will be making homes
meanwhile their foremost need is aerodromes
it being certain war has just begun
peace would do wrong to our undying dead,—
the sons we offеred might regret thеy died
if we got nothing lasting in their stead
we must be solidly indemnified
though all be worthy victory which all bought
we rulers sitting in this ancient spot
would wrong our very selves if we forgot
the greatest glory will be theirs who fought
who kept this nation in integrity.”
nation?—the half*limbed readers did not chafe
but smiled at one another curiously
like secret men who know their secret safe
(this is the thing they know and never speak
that england one by one had fled to france
not many elsewhere now save under france)
pictures of these broad smiles appear each week
and people in whose voice real feeling rings
say: how they smile! they’re happy now, poor things

- david moore lyrics

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