They sat, out on the porch, <br />drank Earl Grey tea. <br />And smiled at the sheer memory <br />of what they'd heard about it, <br />the killing of the boys, <br />they were quite certain though, <br />that there would be an explanation. <br />What rubbish, when an idiot said <br />that cannon fodder was reality, <br />you'd always have some smoke where there was fire. <br /> <br />Preserve the liberty of all, <br />the way of common decency <br />and file the papers in the vault, <br />with its statistical equations of a war <br />that we did have to have, for sure. <br />Lest we forget, they said, to lock the bloody safe.<br /><br />Herbert Nehrlich<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/anzac-day/
