Autumn honour’s our lambs of war
unstained as stainless.
Cursed at dawn beneath the yellow sphinx
the shores a swamp, with tempered bayonets
unpicked and severed by chunks of lead.
North beach was thick with bone
their shadows vanished fast
from right to left their bodies dropped like stone.
Dig or die they shouted, defend the shallow grave
where murdered nature tilled the soil
and fields of poppies wave.
As sick as dogs they drowned in flies
and unused trenches wallpapered black with swollen dead
a screen of stretcher bearers fill the skies.
A failed coup at Anzac cove, just lambs to the slaughter
their memories lay side by side, and will was strong and free
we leave behind the dead to sleep, those Aussie mates of mortar.