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Show j FROM A BOY OVERSEAS ; So you're sick of the way the country is run, 'And you're sick of the way rationing is done; And you're sick of standing around in line, You're sick, you say well, that's just fine. Yes, I'm sick of the sun and the heat, And I'm sick of the feel of my aching feet; And I'm sick of the mud and the jungle flies, And I'm sick of the stench when the night mists rise, And I'm sick of the siren's wailing shriek, And I'm sick of the groans of the wounded and weak. And I'm sick of the sound of the bombers dive, And I'm sick of seeing the dead alive; And I'm sick of the road and noise and din, And I'm sick of the taste of food from tin. And I'm sick of slaughter I'm sick to my soul, I'm sick of playing a killer's role. And I'm sick of blood and death and smell, And I'm even sick of myself as well. But I'm sicker still of a tyrant's rule, And conquered lands where the wild beast drool, And I'm cured damn quick when I think of the day When all this hell will be out of the way, When none of this mess will have been in vain And the lights of the world will blaze again; And things will be as they were before, And the kids will laugh in the streets once more; And the Axis flag will be dipped and furled And God looks down on a peaceful world. Author Unknown. |
