When I have thought upon this latter War,
The rush of battle and the noise of strife,
The gallant soldiers, and their wounds full sore
Which often take from men their means of life;
The toll of death, which from the gallant ranks
Takes good and bad without the least remorse,
The young, the old, the wise men and the cranks
Leaves then their wives and sons without remorse;
When I have thought upon the carnage red,
The gory corpses and the ploughed-up ground,
The souls departed of the glorious dead
Whose sufferings hard were born without a sound;
I know full well that all the soldiers gave
Whate’er they could, their country’s faith to save.
Written by Clitheroe Royal Grammar School student, C. Jackson, autumn term 1921
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