The brave soldier

And now, readers, get ready to read the heart-rending story of a young chap

And whilst you do so, keep a hanky on your lap

For the story that I shall relate is both gripping and sad

And is based on the hard realm of facts, so don’t think it’s a fad…

And whilst you browse over it, the facts will make you cry

And in a few moments you’ll wonder if your hanky had been dry.

In a certain city, there was a poor man

Who, of the great heroes of the land, was a very ardent fan

To widen his knowledge further, he mixed with one and all

And to support his wife, who was a veritable doll

He did strive hard, and labored till his bones ached

But to do his duty, he did not bother that he was by the sun being baked

Or frozen by winter’s chilly hands, until he was as cold as an iced cake

But the peace in the country did not last for very long

And so he too joined the vast throng

Of the brave, who were forever at their country’s beck and call

And were ready to do anything to prevent its downfall.

Yes, he hearkened to his country’s call, and left his wife and child

And though, with grief, her insides were churning wild,

She maintained her self control, in her usual, efficient way

And did not let her thoughts, on a gloomy path, stray.

And so, a farewell parting between the two took place

And they both did so with touching grace.

After he had departed to the front, he could not communicate with his beloved

Since he was illiterate, and so, his longings and desires, no actual purpose served

 

Now let me shift the scene of action to the battle-field

Where the chivalrous soldiers, had their fates sealed

The field was alive with the din of the war

And whether young or old, each one was ready for

Restoring peace to the country, and with this ideal each one fought on

Not caring whether it was evening or night, noon or dawn

Well, our brave young chap shared honours, along with the others

Whom, by now, he considered his brothers

None in that camp was determined as he was

Or played daily, right into Death’s frightful jaws

He soon rose from post to post

And sure enough the day came when he was at the leading post

With the gallant cry of the brave, he proceeded on,

And never did, he, the mask of pride, don

His mare charged forward, to left and right

None ever thought of the word ‘fright’

When suddenly, a gun shot boomed in our friend’s ears

And yet left him without any tears

Without heeding his wound, he carried right on

And did not let the orderlies, over him, fret or fawn

Well, the outcome of his trying to do one last brave exploit

i.e. to plant a hand grenade to blow up the enemy tanks

ensured its success – but oh, at what a price

for it led to his sudden demise

and though the people he had led suffered a major loss

the troops were grievous that they had also lost their boss

tears were shed, and wiped away in secret

for the flame that had enkindled the hope of their victory was now no more

he had sacrificed each and every thing he had, to the very last core.

A country is proud to bear sons such as these

Who never indulge in any ‘I’s’ and me’s

But showing reckless courage and great daring

On their shoulders, the robe of responsibility, wearing

Keep up the prestige and prosperity of their mother land

Whether they fight on sea, in air, or on the land