The Liverpool Pigeons

The Liverpool Pigeons ode

Uploaded by Peter Anderson

Mrs Murphy stares blankly out through the backyard door
The pigeon coop stands open since her children went to war

Pals and chums filled the streets from Old Swan to the Albert docks
The sons of the Liverbird leaving in their flocks

The parish bells rang across the city, crowds cheered for glory and the romance of war
Joining Kitcheners army to fight on a far forigien shore

They sung the songs of the city and of the sweethearts they left behind
Silenced as they pass the walking wounded, the crippled and the blind

Under foot the ground shuddered to the thunder of artillery guns
The meat wagons rumbled past carrying the bodies of other mothers sons

Marching into Hell, through the trenches in single file
Snaking on forever like the endless river Nile

The haggard faces of the soldiers they’d been sent to relieve
Their haunted looks, knowing its only a temporary reprieve

Cold, wet, filthy, ankle deep in squalor and disease
The summer, rats and flies by the thousands, in the winter horses freeze

The ghostly glow of flares light up no man’s land
Safe behind the front lines, officers are wined and dined by high command

Cannons roar, machine guns fire hail storms of lead
The screams of the dying and the silence of the dead

Bayonets fixed at the ready, waiting for first light
The shrill of a whistle, over the top, run and fight

In Saint George’s shadow the Liverpool pigeons roam
In the poppy fields of France lay the Pals that never came home

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Peter Anderson

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Who am I?"- English by birth, Scouser by luck, living in South Africa by choice- Paid to cook, hypnotizes for fun and writes poems because I cant stop- Insomniac, chain smoker, sour worm addict- Bulldogs, Motorbikes and Liverpool football club- Dreamer, realist and slighty depressed
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