A Nations Shame

by Paul Hirst

The fanfares and the marching bands
our boys are home from foreign lands,
Stout brave heroes everyone, the last
shot fired, the war is won.
Medals, Honor and bugles
call our proud heroes each and all.

Yet on a lonely airfield lands
the boys with missing legs and
hands, no bands or bugles to be
theirs, just bloody bandages and
wheelchairs.

They played their part, gave more
than others, these forgotten heroes
this band of brothers, Lest We Forget,
or so we say, Yet hid away and on
half pay.

Through the cannon fire they went
and through the smoke emerged,
broken, burnt and bent, forgotten
heroes everyone? Let us not forget
what they have done....