War 1914-1918 Poem by Sheena Blackhall

Who killed our sons
Both the Tommies and Huns?
Us, said the guns.
We killed your sons

Who saw them die?
I said the fly
Through my wicked black eye
I saw them die

Who drank their blood?
I, said the mud
Where the mortar bombs thud
I drank their blood

Who dug their grave?
None could I save
Said the fierce battle wave
Neither gallant or knave

Who profits from that
Like skittles knocked flat?
Through them I grew fat…
I did, said the rat

Who tolled the bell
For them as they fell?
In the gateway of Hell
I did, whined the shell

Were our soldiers misled?
So many, all dead
For victory they bled
The Old War monger said

When does grief end?
You must labour to mend
Our lost family, my friend

Said the ghosts in the wind