Colin F. Jones

TIN SOLDIERS

I do so frown upon the ways of men,
Who do not know what is right for them,
Yet subservient to the realm of ruling King,
Would for their monarch do most anything.
For the soldiers role is not to think at all,
But offer up his life to the trumpet call.
To follow where his leaders choose to go,
Regardless of his own thoughts that say no.
What makes a robot walk and stop and turn
Makes also that tin soldier fight and burn.
Though men can think tis seldom with free thought,
But processed by a doctrine they’ve been taught.
For they are those who obediently die,
For a truth that often is a blatant lie.