The Battle of Passchendaele

 Wishing of peace filled dreams through the fearful wet nights. 
We dread hearing the warble screams. 
Trenches filling, water pouring through the seams. 
Guns roaring our greatest fears.
A distant father's crying tears.

Guns and cannons fire.
Countries fight to rank higher.
Screams and terrors soon become dire.

In mud we sink.
Letters written in blood and ink.
Rain pours down the Devil’s drink.

Missing my brothers that fell. 
The bullets fire living hell.
For a dead man tales will not tell.

The soldier's medal's shone so bright.
The dark times of a soldier's last fight.
 
Lost at Passchendaele.
And still you hear the distant father cry his last wail.