Your Country Needs You

YOUR COUNTRY NEEDS YOU!
Well, that were enough f’ me
No better man.
If the bloke in yon picture,
was pointing at me,
Telling me that I was needed;
Then show me the way, I’m off.

I tol’ all me mates down at pit that day;
And they asked if maybe he wanted them too?
Or were it just me?
They was takin’ the mickey
But Ah didn’t mind, cos they said
They were coming too.
So tha’ evening we marched
Down t’ the recruitment centre.
Johnny were first cos he were oldest.
17 years and 5 weeks.
We had us a right laff when t'
Sergeant asked his name and
Johnny replies, “Johnny Davies Sir!”
“In First place” shouts sergeant
“I’m not a sir; I’m a sergeant!
‘Sirs’ is gentlemen and I’m none to gentle see!”
“OK, OK,” says Johnny. “No need to shout man,
I’m no deaf tha knows.”
Sergeant looked mad, like he was
Gonna say summat else but then
He started smiling an’ was a lot
More friendly like. He come round
T’ desk and felt Johnnies muscles, went
Back round an’ give Johnny a paper to sign.
Told him to be t'train station on Friday
Cos he was gonna be a soldier in the Kings’ Own.
There were a smile as wide as t'main
Shaft at t’ pit on Johnny’s face.
Johnny’s brother, Kevin went next an’ got
Tol’ t’same story.
Next were me cousin, Russell Briggs; same thing!
The two Riddle brothers from top
O’ village were next and though Harry got
Took, the sergeant refused to let Owen sign
On account of he was too young.
Well Owen were same age as me and
I were last one left so when the sergeant
Asked me my age, I lied and said 17.
“Are you sure?” said sergeant.
I was just gonna answer him, when in
Stomps me Ma!
“Wharra you doing ‘ere she shouts
Grabbing me by me ear and pulling away.
“Arghh” I shouts. “Gerroff Ma, I’m joining
Up and goin’ t’fight wi’ Kings Own!”
“In my eyeball, you are”, she stuttered
“Get up t’ road or you’ll be fightin’ aright
Wi’ ma boot up ya backside ya whelp;
Fightin’ indeed an you barely 14 and a half
Years old. Ger ‘ome for ya tea”

I cried all week.
On Friday, I went down t’ train station t’
Say goodbye t’ lads. I were that sad
Ta see ‘em go, I thought me heart would burst.

The next few weeks were terrible, an’ we ‘eard nowt.
Owen Riddle, the lad ma age that weren’t took,
Said that they got a telegram from his brother Harry.
All leave had been cancelled and they were
Heading for France any time soon.
They were all in t'same unit and they were
Gonna give the Bosch a right hammerin’.
They’d tell us all about it when they come home,
Which shouldn’t be to long.

Owen and me got kinda used to it over next few months.
We’d meet at t’crossroads every mornin’ on way t’pit, an’
I’d ask t’same question; “Any news then?”
“No!” would say Owen, “Norra word!”
Then one morning – it were in July – Owen weren’t at
T’crossroads an’ so I trundled off t’pit on me own.

When I come up at t’end of me shift, me Ma were
Waitin’ for me.
I knew there were summat up, cos she were cryin’
And I’d never seen Ma cry, not since me brother, Jack
Had been lost down t’pit, wi’ 4 others, years before.
I just stood there waitin’ for ‘er t’say summat.

“There all gone Lad!” she sobbed.
“Gone? Who? Where? What yer on about Ma?”
“Russell, Johnny an’ Kevin Davies, Harry Riddle.
They were killed in a place called Flanders…
All them lovely boys, killed dead and……

Every Sunday, me an’ Owen visit t'graveyard.
They put up a stone with t'lads names on it.
There weren’t burial, cos there
Weren’t no bodies like. I dunno how come
And Owen don’ like t'speak of it much.
Maybe if I hadn’t mentioned it, they would still
Be 'ere and we would still be havin’ a laff
Like we used ta. Kickin’ ball on Sunday on t’
Big field behind t’ school that,
We call ‘No Man’s Land’.