Colin F. Jones


It was a drum which beckoned me,
To where the wooden crosses stood,
In regimental rows of illumining white,
Drenched in invisible blood.

I crept up slowly through the trees,
And crouched there out of sight,
I rested on my bony knees,
In the glow of the bright moonlight.

There shone a light from every grave,
And the sound of bugles played,
Gods Angels stood to cheer the brave,
And a fine chorus they displayed.

One by one the soldiers marched,
To the drum beat round the ring,
Formed by the Angels calling them,
To come and dance and sing.

Soon all was merriment in the throng,
As they swayed in the white moonlight,
They danced all night to a marching song,
And oh what a wonderful sight!

To see them kick their heels up
Was truly beaut to see,
And when one raised his wine filled cup,
It raised the pride in me.

To the regiment!!!! … He said
We drink this toast to all of us who died,
And to all those blokes who broke and bled,
Who copped it in the hide.

They did their best; got home alright,
But of the war they’ll not be free,
So drink me cobbers, with all ya might,
Drink this toast with me!

Then as the sun gave its first sign,
That the daylight would soon be here,
The dancing ceased and the food and wine,
In a flash all disappeared!

I still hear the drum, see the crosses white,
But the graves they are quiet and still,
None would believe how I spent my night,
But there’s no one I can tell.

I enjoyed the festival they held this year,
It sure was a lot of fun,
And if you are watching as I disappear,
Then I’ll see you next year son.

I found a garland on the ground,
When I visited my father’s grave,
And there were footprints all around,
Some silver dust on the pave

It’s as though there was, a festival,
With music and dancing feet,
Ha, ha… skeletons having a… ball,
Wouldn’t that be a dinkum treat!

Better go home now, see ya dad,
Hope you had a very good time,
Goodness me I’m going mad,
But a garland! Now that’s divine!

See ya Dad.

Submitted for the July 2002 IWVPA Club Theme Project, “Festival