Old men chew
on worn out dentures,
represent past sea adventures,
shuffling through corridors,
veterans of age old wars,
medals in forgotten drawers
from a time
spent in the corps
Once youthful,
sprayed by brine,
now queued for dinner
in disorderly lines,
forgetting 1939,
and Butlin's camps,
where they trained to implement
a nations rage,
stiff upper lips on the decks of warships
while Wiggy and Philpot
are blown to bits,
hunted by U boats
they stood in their new coats
whilst underground
safe and sound
Prime Minister sits.
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