On Reflection

On reflection as I cast my mind back

Life in my youth was no bed of roses

In fact one could say we were dirt poor

‘Twas a time in our history, a time of war

When for five years of warfare took its toll..

On the nation, its people, it’s very soul

But was it worth it, as I look around today

I fear this is a nation feeble greedy people

Who care little for the sacrifices others gave...

The cup of kindness is seen as being soft

Hard faced , the stuff you jack, spin on this

Is the norm for this materialistic County

Who gives a TomTit any more about our soldiers?

They and their kids go hungry to keep you safe.....

Rat infested houses from Victorian times

And who gives a Donald Duck about the dead

Coming home in body bags and buried without honour

Yes, on reflection I am glad I was born dirt poor...

And suffered along with millions in those dark days

We found the meaning of many words lacking today

Compassion for others, and comradeship on a scale

That will never be seen in this selfish land of Britain...

‘Tis a sad reflection I bring to these pages my friends

But the human beings of yesteryear would shout out

“Stop, you greedy bastards, think of others for once”

Radical Peter