Brothers and uncles, grandparents and gads
Babes to their mamas, and lovers and dads
With trust and honor they served our shore
Naivety and courage their distinguishing lore
When the fighting was done and they all returned home
The welcome was short, yet the life-time long
For the horrors of combat are enclosed in the mind
And the memories live on, the triggers grind
‘It’s bullshit’ he’d say with loaded expression
downing a claret to anaesthetize his depression
‘The glorification of war is demonstrably mad’
he reminded us yearly, which just made me sad
I was fine all morning till the bugle was played
At the market where all the fresh fruit is displayed
The diggers were two in their medals and stripes
And the tears flowed freely, for suffering, for hype
Lest we forget
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