Springtime and the living is easy.
Not for them, war veterans and the needy.
Fill my senses; sweet flowers and stale sick,
bile it slides, at your shoes it gently licks.
Summertime and the drink is a flowing.
All around is a violence that's growing.
This my Britain; no more I want to feel,
'fraid to walk, down the streets they long to steal.
Autumn time, in a life that you devoted.
Sacrifice you made, that goes un-noted.
And to think you gave your life for this,
handshake thanks, from an insincere wrist.
Wintertime, choking on your final breath.
Freeze your way, to an unbecoming death.
War hero, there’s no brandy and cigars,
they’re too drunk in the nearby parks and bars
First published in the Mudhutter 26, December 2009
