For Tom, Dick and of course Harry

"What was it like at Passchendaele?"
I heard the woman say.
"Mud, mud and more mud,
every blooming day."

"What was it like at Passchendaele?"
I heard her haughty sound.
"Death visited us every day,
bodies carpeted the ground."

"What was it like at Passchendaele?"
For a third time she enquired.
"Gas, shells and agony,
and we were so bloody tired."

"What was it like at Passchendaele?"
"Please don't ask again,
I saw so many brave friends die,
the memories are driving me insane."

"What was it like at Passchendaele?"
I heard this woman cry.
"It was like Hell every day,
I think they sent us there, to die."

"What was it like at Passchendaele?"
Her voice echoed round the hall.
No answer came, there was no one there
for they had killed us all.

(Inspired, when I was fortunate enough to meet Harry Patch 
in 2003 in Cheltenham,
 a rather haughty woman in the audience asked this question,
Harry replied Muddy. Very Muddy)

©david holmes 2004Silent_in_The_rain.html