War+Literature+-+D

=The House is crammed: tier beyond tier they grin= =And cackle at the Show, while prancing ranks= =Of harlots shrill the chorus, drunk with din;= =‘We’re sure the Kaiser loves our dear old Tanks!’= =I’d like to see a Tank come down the stalls,= =Lurching to rag-time tunes, or ‘Home, sweet Home’,= =And there’d be no more jokes in Music-halls= =To mock the riddled corpses round Bapaume.=

DOES it matter?--losing your legs?... For people will always be kind, And you need not show that you mind When the others come in after hunting To gobble their muffins and eggs.

Does it matter?--losing your sight?... There's such splendid work for the blind; And people will always be kind, As you sit on the terrace remembering And turning your face to the light.

Do they matter?--those dreams from the pit?... You can drink and forget and be glad, And people won't say that you're mad; For they'll know you've fought for your country And no one will worry a bit.

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