Another Kind Of War by Harry Riley Poem by David Page- aka Harry Riley

Britons fought, and many died at the Battle of Waterloo
They gave their all and sometimes more...
Defending King and Country and the only God they knew
But later, sheathing weapons, with duty proudly done
Our troops came back to England
Believing troubles over...yet they'd only just begun!

And did a grateful country bring her heroes home to fame?
She surely did, those men returned
With medals struck for injured, dead and dying, fit and lame
Whilst captains praised their valour, and loudly beat the drum
The Iron Duke shared his fine regard...
Dismissed his men as scum!

So soon would memory fade, of mighty battles fought and won
When life at home grew full of strife
No aid came from the State. no help for man or wife
No roof to ward off wintry chill, no money, work or fun
No hope for family future, just demoralizing dread
No meat, no corn, no clothes...not even any bread!

Yet no rain befell the rich man, surprisingly enough
With Parliamentary Power, his future was secure
He had his manor, plots of land, and servants by the score
He'd hold his lavish parties, wild and wanton, wicked wasteful...
Running on and on forever, and as frenzied as before
There'd be no vote for peasantry, no gracious law to grant them more!

So quickly did dissention grow, and spread from town to town
Ned Ludd and all his firebrands would bring the Government down!
In Northern counties: Nott's and Derby's too, the talk was insurrection!
A multitude would now rise up and cause a great commotion
They'd have their rights and seize the Crown
With the hunger march of the Pentrich Revolution!

The moral, as we all should know, is 'Right is Power' and 'Power is Might! '
And spies can pull the best laid plans apart
A trial faced the captured men and transportation too
Heads were wanted for the Axe-man's block, and some would have to roll!
The Kingdom needed vengeance, public hanging for the leaders
Brandreth: Ludlam: Turner: was the prosecution call

If history repeats itself, and this tale is the clue
We need not look for answers, for whom to blame: a foot to fit the shoe...
It's down to greed and human waste, and spite, and hopeless need...
And all the things that made us what we were and who we are are
We envy what we have not got, and tell ourselves that we know best...
It's every man for himself; let the devil thake the hindmost
And never mind the rest!
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