THE FAR EASTERN PRISONER OF WAR

I was crucified in Tarsau
and again close by Hintoc-
I was whipped along the River Valley Road;

I was driven pierced and bleeding,
With a million maggots feeding
On the body that I carried for my load

Yet my heart was still unbroken
and my hopes were still unquenched,
’til I hove my cross to blighty thro’ a crowd.

Soldiers stabbed me on that road.
But at home I dropped my load
When politicians broke my legs and made my shroud.

At Westminster my poor body,
Wrapped in linen of fine words,
Was perfumed with their sweetly-scented lies,

And they laid me in the tomb,
Of their golden mirrored room,
With the other lads, who had refused to die.

Bill Duncan