Colin F. Jones

GOOD MATES

I could talk about me; as I am right now,
As I was, when I was in Vietnam.
Many dwell on self, it seems somehow,
Or criticise others if they can.

We could all blame someone if we tried
The enemy, the folk back home
For Johnnies death; why Harry died,
The reason for my years alone.

But I reckon Harry died ‘cause he was brave,
And Johnny too, for friend and mate
They were asked to give and they both gave
Death the result; their final fate.

I remember those blokes, as they were,
Good mates! Good soldiers, duty bound
Fighting to keep our land secure…
And our faith in freedom sound.

No I don’t care to criticise,
Just do my bit which ain’t real much
And hide the anguish in my eyes
That none can reach in there and touch.

For all that I might still despise
Would be a burden great in me,
Tormented by the whats and whys.
Such a waste of time you see

I’m happy still to be alive
And I reckon they’d agree
To not some joy our selves deprive
‘Cause they died that we be free