SHROUD

We brought the Old Red Duster.
From the flagstaff where is flew.
To shroud our fallen shipmate,
As seamen tend to do.

It was Jones, a lad from Barry,
Who stopped a piece of lead.
That ricocheted about the room,
And caught him in the head.

All about us war was raging,
Not much time to say so long.
And a mother's heart is broken,
To learn her son is gone.

In time the shelling ended,
And Jones lay fast asleep.
Beneath the Old Red Duster,
Committed to the deep.

Ian Adrian Millar