ZERO HOUR.
 
 
The Sky Larks flew Heaven ward,
Never knowing that Our Boys,
Would soon be soaring that way too,
When Whistles Blew,
Dying alongside your Pals,
Amid the Blood ‘’n’ the Gore,
At the Zero Hour,
 
And as for us,
Awkward  We stand,
In silent  Grasses,
Tall ‘n’ Blown,
Like the Soldiers you were,
The Trumpeter he Sounds,
Wearing Our Poppies,
With Pride,
Poppies with Pride,
For those that were Scylthed.
 
 
 
 
                       Zero Hour.
              (The Somme July 1ft 1916)