as the red drifts
lazily down the river
and men fall
into the earth
down ditches dug
with youthful hands
and painted with
the joy of war
where men fall
and spill their blood
and boys cry
for their mothers
and bodies drift
lazily down the river
mix with water
stained with red
and we remember them
although not by name

but as men stained with red
all led home by the Somme