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War
Rattle, Rattle, Splutter
Lewis guns and Bren's all around
Help to swell the hellish sound
Overhead the Nipon war planes
Fill the sky with angry war
Lie down flat, you silly blighters
This is what history books call War
-o-
Men upon their stomachs creeping
Through the rubber and the palm
Hungry, dry, bereft of sleeping
Knowing not a moment calm
Wading on through marsh and swamp land
Clothing stiff with mud and gore
On they go these helpless victims
Victims of the Gods of War
-o-
All around the men are lying
Fathers, brothers, husbands, sons
Some are dead and some are dying
Victims all of bombs and guns
Cursing, groaning, crying, moaning
Is this nature in the raw
No it's simply wicked murder
History books just call it War
-o-
Blackened, bloated, stinking corpses
Lying buried all around
Ants and flies and ….... maggots
Use them for a breeding ground
They have died to save the Empire
Don't for God's sake ask who for
They were simply slain and murdered
In a democratic War
-o-
While at home in London
See the ticker tapes dash in
Sharp decline in United Rubber
Down five points, Malaysian tin
Damn it we shall lose a packet
Thank God we've got plenty more
Waiter bring a double brandy
Yes, my master, this is War
-o-
11.11.43
Changi,
Singapore
POW
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