Colin F. Jones

COMRADES

Each for himself doth meet the foe,
Yet each a string in the other’s bow,
Combines to form an endless line,
Of soldiers marching throughout time,
Linked by a duty and common fear,
By uniform and standards dear,
By pride and loyalty and comradeship,
Each is a finger of a powerful grip,
Which holds the nation’s flag on high,
For which all fight and some do die.
Each is a post in the long wire fence,
Which links them all to a proud defence,
Though they stand alone to face the night,
Each is the others will to fight.