Our Boys

A deeply troubling thingy and a most regretful fact;
A failure of our tolerance and diplomatic tact,
A breach of British virtues far too numerous to list,
Suggesting racist evil, which we know does not exist.

It seems that when we stood alone against the Prussian's might
Our grateful brownish brothers came and joined up for the fight,
In hundreds and in thousands flocking to the Empire's forces;
Where faithfully they served alongside valued dogs and horses.

Alas, we cannot hope to care for every single grave,
And still less put up statues to the wealth creator's slave;
Yet with elections coming it's regrettable to note
Our servants unremembered though their grandsons have the vote.

We must forgive the melanin that mars the soldier's face:
By being more expendable, he helps the master race.
A quite important moral, to set underneath We Won:
We'll put up with the piccaninny if he kills the Hun.

Poppy Thrower