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ONLY NINETEEN

Just nineteen years old
some of those blokes,
when you think it through
it's a bit of a joke,
not old enough to be in a pub
but old enough to spill their blood.

Just nineteen years old
some of those kids,
when you think it through
they haven't yet lived.
Can they hope to ever dream
an old man's dreams,
in peace and quiet
by tranquil streams?

Not old enough to cast a vote
a bit of a joke,
to bitter-eyed blokes
just numbered pawns,
all carrying guns
in the Dat Do sun.

Just nineteen years old
some of those kids,
pale and drawn
beneath their tin lids,
flinching at the noise
the smoke and sound,
digging like hell
in the sun baked ground.

Wanting to live those kids -
unable to forgive
the old and tired
faceless men,
who drew the lot
and drafted them.

John A. Moller
Whiskey Two Company RNZIR

 

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