Requiem

My dearest wife, I miss you,
and I hope that you are well.
The weather here is awful,
and it's cold and wet as hell

(and hell is what it's like, my love
the trenches deep in mud.
The sound of guns, the screams of men,
the stench of rot and blood)

But we all try to keep cheerful,
and we're certain that we'll win,
but the rain keeps pouring down still
and the wind's as cold as sin.

(and sin is what war is, my love.
To kill one's fellow man,
bur we've slaughtered down the ages
ever since the world began)

So kiss the children for me,
this war won't last the year,
and say I'll soon be coming home-
-to see them, never fear.

(But fear is all I have, my love,
I fear I'm going to die.
The battlefield is thick with dead
who never said 'goodbye')

So I'll close this letter now, dear,
with all my love, my wife.
And know I'll love you always,
to the very end of life.

(and life is all I pray for, love.
The one thought in my head
is to leave this field in Flanders,
where the poppies guard the dead.