‘Comrades in arms’,

in the mouths of our leaders,

minus the munitions,

that expression begins to lose its charms,

‘Comrades in arms’,

they relish that phrase, and how it embalms,

heroism’s enflamed cooperation,

as war as nation,

stilling its possibilities,

is that a contradiction in the movies?,

Comrades,

a word in deeds,

whose seeds,

we gathered from those last great sacrificing fields,

Comrades,

lost,

that we might not,

be enwaged as the property of tyranny,

seeded the resistance to the tyranny of property,

and Comradeship’s flower was all we had to wield,

for the damage and damaged to begin to be healed,

until Chancellor Healy borrowed an unrequired 2.5 billion pounds from the IMF, in 1976,

the Cloak and dagger lot, were they up to some very unBritish tricks,

and Premier Callaghan,

postponed an election,

that he would have won,

until that very cold and inexplicably agitated winter was gone,

and so was he,

reintroducing the wolf so very hungry,

lets put on the poppy,

and remember ‘futility’,

lets put on the poppy,

and remember tyranny,

remember ‘futility’?,

remember tyranny?

there’s one last besieged memorial standing proud,

lets not let it be debasement behind property’s shroud,