the boy from the country.
Poem – All quiet on the western front
(summary in poem form and changed to Australian representation)
A boy who grew up in the country, the land of the shining sun,
He lived on a farm that grew cattle, grain and sheep that his old man run,
The rusty tin rattled on his roof as the wind blew from the south,
His mum sat at the window waiting for rain in the drought,
The boy was 16, the prime age to start to fight for his country,
His teacher and mentor discussed his desire for them to join the army,
The young fella saw such encouragement there were posters on polls,
He and his mates felt that encouragement was the oxygen of their souls,
The young fellas packed their bags and said there goodbyes,
They didn’t realise how big of a day it was, but they left with their supplies,
A pair of leather boots and a rattling metal canteen half full with water,
There supplies were low there lunch boxes only filled a quarter,
The boys came unarmed but with a gun up on their back,
there were dead people lying at their feet, the boys hadn't even been attacked,
After the two worst weeks of their lives only eight made it back,
The mothers were left waiting, then given their sons belongings in a pack.
The young boy now at his mates side, to see his friend die in agony,
a tear ran down the young boys face like rain down a window when it was windy,
there was nothing he could do just another innocent soul lossed,
something he had to deal, just another mental cost,
A group of new fella’s rocked up in there leather boots,
Not knowing what to expect as they fight over government disputes,
The men should be at home having a beer in the pub,
Kropp thinks the leaders should fight it out with clubs,
the young boy realises that his friends are getting killed one by one,
The young innocent boys hit by bullets gun after gun,
while some of his friends are at home with their family on their farms,
Paul carries one of his closest mates who dies in his arms,
Paul feels the ends soon he just needs to get through,
He’s the only one to make it out of all his friend group,
On his last day he is shot and he doesn’t make it through,
His mum waits there for him like she waits for rain at the window,
(summary in poem form and changed to Australian representation)
A boy who grew up in the country, the land of the shining sun,
He lived on a farm that grew cattle, grain and sheep that his old man run,
The rusty tin rattled on his roof as the wind blew from the south,
His mum sat at the window waiting for rain in the drought,
The boy was 16, the prime age to start to fight for his country,
His teacher and mentor discussed his desire for them to join the army,
The young fella saw such encouragement there were posters on polls,
He and his mates felt that encouragement was the oxygen of their souls,
The young fellas packed their bags and said there goodbyes,
They didn’t realise how big of a day it was, but they left with their supplies,
A pair of leather boots and a rattling metal canteen half full with water,
There supplies were low there lunch boxes only filled a quarter,
The boys came unarmed but with a gun up on their back,
there were dead people lying at their feet, the boys hadn't even been attacked,
After the two worst weeks of their lives only eight made it back,
The mothers were left waiting, then given their sons belongings in a pack.
The young boy now at his mates side, to see his friend die in agony,
a tear ran down the young boys face like rain down a window when it was windy,
there was nothing he could do just another innocent soul lossed,
something he had to deal, just another mental cost,
A group of new fella’s rocked up in there leather boots,
Not knowing what to expect as they fight over government disputes,
The men should be at home having a beer in the pub,
Kropp thinks the leaders should fight it out with clubs,
the young boy realises that his friends are getting killed one by one,
The young innocent boys hit by bullets gun after gun,
while some of his friends are at home with their family on their farms,
Paul carries one of his closest mates who dies in his arms,
Paul feels the ends soon he just needs to get through,
He’s the only one to make it out of all his friend group,
On his last day he is shot and he doesn’t make it through,
His mum waits there for him like she waits for rain at the window,