Grenadier

Alfred Edward Housman

    The Queen she sent to look for me,
    The sergeant he did say,
    Young man, a soldier will you be
    For thirteen pence a day?

    For thirteen pence a day did I
    Take off the things I wore,
    And I have marched to where I lie,
    And I shall march no more.

    My mouth is dry, my shirt is wet,
    My blood runs all away,
    So now I shall not die in debt
    For thirteen pence a day.

    To-morrow after new young men
    The sergeant he must see,
    For things will all be over then
    Between the Queen and me.

    And I shall have to bate my price,
    For in the grave, they say,
    Is neither knowledge nor device
    Nor thirteen pence a day.

Every day I select a war poem, and respond to it, generally in poetic form. But perhaps not. Each poem grabs at something a little differently. Sometimes the themes blend together, sometimes they contradict. Many poets, were veterans themselves, others not. Their perspectives vary, and the poetry does in response. I’ll continue to do this as long as I keep finding poetry that explores novel or meaningful themes. You know, until the well runs dry.

A bonus

Traded my body and four short years
For a paycheck and some benefits
A signing bonus too, can you believe
College money, if I’m so inclined

A new set of clothes, and a roof
Taught some skills, and discipline
A new family too, can you believe
This rifle is pretty cool, real cool

The war is over, and now I’m home
My brothers moved away, me too
Skills don’t translate, can you believe
Professor thinks I’m crazy, maybe

Lists on lists of resources, I find
Loads and loads of requirements
Limiting exclusions, can you believe
Maybe I’ve been duped, probably

A bureaucrat’s bargain, fine print
Brightly colored posters, marketing
Benefits in fast food, can you believe
A list, to get on the list, these benefits

Photo by Wilhelm Gunkel on Unsplash