Sapper Smith is Resting Now
Sapper Smith is resting now, within his box of pine.
They’ve bandaged up his missing brow; they’ve straightened his broken spine.
His upper face was blown away by a sniper’s careless shot;
It was no more than a ricochet – but it found the fatal spot.
In through the eye, and out the back, it killed him straight away –
And left his best mate, Jack, drenched in Smithy’s bloody spray.
The Helmund gig is a pile of shit (‘Butlins’ to the Royal Marines),
Too exposed, with crappy kit – Terry Taliban’s not like the Argentines.
These fellas know how to fight, to plant an IED,
To set a bomb to ignite – then disappear and flee.
The ‘Ganners are a deadly mob. All innocent in their Jingly Trucks –
But they know how to do the job and kill these foreign shmucks.
Russian, Yank and British guns all had the upper hand –
Eventually forced to cut and run. To leave the Afghans to their land.
So Smithy’s dead, his war is done. He died ‘to make us free’.
Another son whose life is run. For Brits the tally’s 4 5 3.