Poppies

These numberless who stood, were counted, served;
Who died, their backbones straight, without a moan,
Shoulder to shoulder lie, as they deserved,
Immortalised upon a spine of stone.
Who fought the greatest war, that War should cease,
To free the future from beweaponed fear,
Lie silent, while we statesmen give to Peace
Its hundred-twenty seconds from our year.

We thank, with all humility, our slain;
We give our brave boys solemn accolade.
Their sacrifice shall not have been in vain,
Given there's profit in our peaceful trade.
So let this wreath of opium, blood-red,
Sweeten the grave-stench of our glorious dead.

Maunder Priggley