Lest We Forget

I

Thomas Whittam won the VC

But what of the rest of the fighting Burnley,

Left in the fields and trenches to rot

Those that came home brought us bene n hot,

From Mesopotamia to Flanders and Mons

A whole generation was here and then gone,

Joe Finny from Padiham a rele of mine

Was a gem with the ball but war blew full time,

He’s buried in France next to others who fell

On Armistice Day their stories we tell.

II

Oh how you enthral with your molten embrace

Your flickering tongues igniting the face,

Aromas that conjure up memories long past

Of Bedouin camps in the great sand sea vast,

Or exotic nights on Cairo’s famed streets

Or nights on the line where Rommel retreats,

Your comforting glow oft soothing the soul

Your infernal hell as close comrades fall.

III

An Empire came calling for lads who were game

Young, fit and healthy, no room for the lame,

Them chaps from East Lancs did not let them down

They signed up to honour their country, their crown

A grand old adventure to places unseen

Many a youngen were only to keen,

Shipped off to the Somme and the grand Dardanelles

Little did they know, they were entering hell

Over the top went fathers and sons

A headlong assault at the enemy guns,

Like lambs to the slaughter cut down in their prime

When the news filtered home the church bells did chime

These brave northern lads had answered the call

Commanded by fools who led them to fall,

Whilst generals drunk scotch on the famous Pall Mall

The fighting was done by the Accrington Pal.