'Quick, quick' Mother used to sigh,

chasing us kids back inside.

The days were long and play so happy.

'Quick, quick' the other boys yelled,

not barely old enough we wrote

neat names in black on white paper.

'Quick, quick' My new friend said

his hand out to my bottle of wine,

in the filthy trench we sat.

'Quick, quick' the commander called,

and we piled over the top,

to the silence of death.