When you're lying alone in your Afghan bivvy
And your life it depends on some MOD civvie
When the body Armour's shared (one set between three)
And the fire fight's not like it is on TV
Then you'll look to your oppo, your gun and your God
As you follow that path all Tommies have trod.
When the gimpy has jammed and you're down to one round
And the faith that you'd lost is suddenly found.

When the Taliban horde is close up to the for
And you pray that the arty don't drop a round short.
Stick to your sergeant like a good squaddie should
And fight them like Satan or one of his brood

Your pay it won't cover your needs or your wants
So just stand there and take all the Taliban's taunts
Nor generals nor civvies can do aught to amend it
Except make sure you're kept in a place you can't spend it.
Three fifty an hour in your Afghani cage
Not nearly as much as the minimum wage.

Your missus at home in a foul married quarter
With damp on the walls and a roof leaking water
Your kids miss their mate (their hero) their dad
They're missing the childhood that they should have had


One day it will be different, one day by and by
As you all stand there and watch to see the pigs fly
Just like your forebears in mud dust and ditch
You'll march and you'll fight and you'll drink and you'll bitch
Whether Froggy or Zulu or Jerry or Boer
The Brits will fight on `til the battle is over.
You may treat him like dirt but nowt will unnerve him
But I wonder sometimes if the country deserves him.

Good one Shadow, it's something Rudyard Kipling would be proud to put his name to.
Mike
( Shades of Tommy Atkins )

well its not quite right on the jokes page we need a poets corner.............

i lifted it from another site but rk may well have when he `s not bakeing cakes

Yep...good one Shadow.