Toy Soldiers

There they march,
Like soldiers of toys.
They all are,
But little boys.

There they walk,
With their gun.
They all fall down,
One by one.

Lost among,
The game of men.
But they won't ever,
Get up again.

Then the gas,
Rolls over the hills.
The full trenches,
The vapour fills.

Once again,
The boys fall down.
They flail and struggle,
As the drown.

The fumbling mess,
Of men and mud.
The vulgar mass,
Of waste and blood.

The stench of mustard,
Fills the air.
The surviving men,
Stay well aware.

The enemy lines,
Fire back.
The lights go out,
All goes black.