Author Topic: Eleven, eleven, eleven...  (Read 962 times)

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Online Barman

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Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« on: November 11, 2013, 08:49:17 AM »
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under I green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, --
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
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Offline boogs

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #1 on: November 11, 2013, 12:01:08 PM »
 sad24: sad24: sad24:

Wot can you say bless them all ... I hate to think what they would think of this country today .... Shameful  noooo: noooo:
You only get one chance at this life so make the most of it .

Offline Steve

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #2 on: November 11, 2013, 12:17:15 PM »
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind.

Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime . . .
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under I green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues, --
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.

worthy:
Well, whatever nevermind

Offline Miss Adventure

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #3 on: November 11, 2013, 12:20:19 PM »
Never in the field of human conflict was so much owed, by so many, to so few

Offline Miss Adventure

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #4 on: November 11, 2013, 12:21:15 PM »
IF I should die, think only this of me;
That there's some corner of a foreign field
That is for ever England. There shall be
In that rich earth a richer dust concealed;
A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware,

Gave, once, her flowers to love, her ways to roam,
A body of England's breathing English air,
Washed by the rivers, blest by suns of home.
And think, this heart, all evil shed away,
A pulse in the eternal mind, no less
Gives somewhere back the thoughts by England given;
Her sights and sounds; dreams happy as her day;
And laughter, learnt of friends; and gentleness,
In hearts at peace, under an English heaven

Rupert Brooke

Offline Tipsy Gipsy

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #5 on: November 11, 2013, 06:09:19 PM »
I am sure Ive posted before that I lived across the road from an elderly man whose Mum had been a nurse in a WW1 hospital near to where we were living.  He had an autograph book that contained messages from the soldiers who had been patients.  The sketching, the sentiments, the water colour painting that illustrated that book were so beautiful. 

 cloud9:
It's better than I ever even knew.  They say that the world was built for two.  Only worth living if somebody is loving you.  Baby now you do.

Online Barman

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #6 on: November 11, 2013, 06:50:43 PM »
I am sure Ive posted before that I lived across the road from an elderly man whose Mum had been a nurse in a WW1 hospital near to where we were living.  He had an autograph book that contained messages from the soldiers who had been patients.  The sketching, the sentiments, the water colour painting that illustrated that book were so beautiful. 

 cloud9:

AFFS! ::)
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Online Nick

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Offline boogs

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You only get one chance at this life so make the most of it .

Offline Just One More

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #10 on: November 12, 2013, 12:17:23 AM »
Well done that lass  :thumbsup:
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Online Barman

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #11 on: November 12, 2013, 05:57:32 AM »
http://www.northdevongazette.co.uk/news/video_former_wren_hands_sir_nick_harvey_expenses_envelope_at_remembrance_parade_1_2988148


Utter bastard!  Angry9:

I hate those weasel words "even though it was permissible within the rules"...  cussing:

Yes, and who writes the rules...?
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Online Barman

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #12 on: November 11, 2016, 07:06:35 AM »


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Offline Pirate

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Re: Eleven, eleven, eleven...
« Reply #13 on: November 11, 2016, 09:49:30 AM »

Offline Darwins Selection

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