Re: Kamilaroi Country
Posted: Sat Dec 31, 2011 8:06 am
Yes, I enjoyed it too, Wendy. Has it been published?
Reminds me of a poem I wrote. Here it is.
Socks!
© Stephen Whiteside 19.11.10
Our men are all keen to enlist.
Or, if they are not, we insist.
A light feather, white,
Soon sets their minds right.
It’s a message that’s hard to resist.
Socks. Socks. Socks.
It’s a labour of love, not a chore.
It’s a nice little shove
From Heaven above,
And we’re all knitting socks for the War.
To the trenches the soldiers all swarm,
In the face of the oncoming storm.
They might lose an eye
As the fast bullets fly,
But at least both their feet will stay warm.
Socks. Socks. Socks.
It’s a labour of love, not a chore.
We’ll warm the boys’ blood
’Gainst the trenches’ cold mud,
And we’re all knitting socks for the War.
It’s a struggle to offer your best
With a bayonet jammed in your chest,
Or your guts all on show,
But we want you to know,
We’ll keep knitting with vigour and zest!
Socks. Socks. Socks.
It’s a labour of love, not a chore.
We’ll heat the lads’ feet
’Gainst the rain and the sleet.
We’ll keep the boys’ glow
Under blankets of snow,
We’ll love them to death
As they draw their last breath,
For we’re all knitting socks for the War!
Reminds me of a poem I wrote. Here it is.
Socks!
© Stephen Whiteside 19.11.10
Our men are all keen to enlist.
Or, if they are not, we insist.
A light feather, white,
Soon sets their minds right.
It’s a message that’s hard to resist.
Socks. Socks. Socks.
It’s a labour of love, not a chore.
It’s a nice little shove
From Heaven above,
And we’re all knitting socks for the War.
To the trenches the soldiers all swarm,
In the face of the oncoming storm.
They might lose an eye
As the fast bullets fly,
But at least both their feet will stay warm.
Socks. Socks. Socks.
It’s a labour of love, not a chore.
We’ll warm the boys’ blood
’Gainst the trenches’ cold mud,
And we’re all knitting socks for the War.
It’s a struggle to offer your best
With a bayonet jammed in your chest,
Or your guts all on show,
But we want you to know,
We’ll keep knitting with vigour and zest!
Socks. Socks. Socks.
It’s a labour of love, not a chore.
We’ll heat the lads’ feet
’Gainst the rain and the sleet.
We’ll keep the boys’ glow
Under blankets of snow,
We’ll love them to death
As they draw their last breath,
For we’re all knitting socks for the War!