A Noble Death
By: Vickram Bachan
We are killed one by one,Some by bomb and some by gun.
This is war.
For a man who has lived an adventurous life,
All it is now is pain and strife.
Freedom and peace are what we're fighting for.
Many of our bodies now lay in Flanders Fields,
Some are carried and some are wheeled.
This is war.
We die for you with sacrifice and pain,
And now we hope it is not all in vain.
Freedom and peace are what we're fighting for.
The living are covered in dirt and lice,
While the dead are eaten by rats and mice.
This is war.
The food here is stale it has no flavour or spice,
We miss our homes and good tasting rice.
Freedom and peace are what we're fighting for.
At home you grin and laugh with joy,
Here we are killed, and thrown aside like an old toy.
This is war.
Sometimes we must fight for what is right,
With a cause so great, we must fight with all out might.
Freedom and peace are what we're fighting for.
We long to get out of these trenches that smell,
But sometimes getting to Heaven, means going through hell.
This is war.
November 1918 the war is done,
Soldiers are happy to see the sun.
This is peace.
Recounting the lives that were taken away,
The thousands the war took, a devastating price to pay.
It is important to reflect.
We faced death in the hope that Canada would one day be a place of freedom and peace.
We won, but at what cost?
Let's hope war doesn't happen again!
