war poem

as i walk the screlching follows me

as i talk with jim

then gas! it chokes 1,2 or 3

as i stumble through the dim

everybody hates this war

but its got to be done

but its just a bore

we gotta do it to please our mums                                                               

the an explosion of red

burts our drums

i wish i was back in bed

i wish we were back, with our mums

BY OSCAR