Trench Rat by Rachel Fleming

Trench Rat

by Rachel Fleming

A battered Woodbine is a precious thing.  

If you can light the bugger, better still.

Inhale the harsh, uplifting, acrid smoke   

and, for a fleeting moment, you’re a King.

   

Dear old King George can keep his best cigars

and damn Lloyd George, may that sly bastard choke. 

It’s him and and not the Hun I’d choose to kill

to end this bloody war to end all wars.