a dead boche - the war poetry society lyrics
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to you who’d read my songs of war
and only hear of blood and fame
i’ll say (you’ve heard it said before)
”war’s h*ll!” and if you doubt the same
today i found in mametz wood
a certain cure for l*st of blood:
where, propped against a shattered trunk
in a great mess of things unclean
sat a dead boche; he scowled and stunk
with clothes and face a sodden green
big*bellied, spectacled, crop*haired
dribbling black blood from nose and beard
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