Mind Your Language Poem by Herbert Nehrlich

Are you, please pardon my audacity, I ask
a serviceman who keeps the nation safe from foes?
I offer you a nip or two, come closer, from my flask,
so tell me how it is where war's tornado blows.
I hear there were a thousand servicemen who fell,
performing simple chores perhaps when tripping just by chance,
it's not like we civilians who must pass on into hell
exhausted from the labours and the constant song and dance.
They say you sacrifice, though falling would seem mild,
performing service is a noble thing for man to do,
as you can tell, I'm really still a youngster, well, a child
but when I'm grown I want to be a serviceman like you.