In an old dusty bar,
The General grabbed a drink,
He smelled of coal and tar,
And sipped as if to think,
He had a poker face,
And a stiff upper lip,
Wore a uniform stripped of grace,
And his cane was missing it’s tip.
The barman thought it odd,
For the man to be alone,
He should be feeling like God,
Now that the fort was blown,
So he took a dirty cloth,
And a bottle up from shelf,
Brought them all to him both,
For the man to help himself.
The General nodded his thanks,
But the barman stayed to ask,
Where are your other ranks,
Have you sent them on a task?
The man looked at him,
A tear took his eye,
Then the General spoke the truth,
Even though he preferred the lie.
There are sins I am guilty for,
That is why I weep,
We have won the world it’s war,
But my men are all asleep.
THE HUMAN ANVIL 