Woken by a sentry in the early hours of morn

In darkness searching for wet clothes so torn,

Fumbling, feeling, hurrying then finally ready

We left our night base, slow and steady

Quietly, confidently, one behind the other

There was total trust for we were all brothers

Yet I could not stay upright as we moved along

Stumbling, falling and not knowing what was wrong

A whispering curse from our leader. Be quiet

Yet as we progressed, it was still not right

Not even at dawn with the growing light

Whatever the mystery, it was far from right

I was becoming very uptight

A snake or spider? Had I been bitten?

Was it now my time that fate had written?

How strange there was no numbness, giddiness or pain

A shiver in my spine as I stumbled yet again

I quietly wondered how I would say my goodbyes

To loved ones who perhaps would wail and cry

Whatever the blight it had been very quick

Although I was yet to have fever or be sick

Soon after first light we stopped for a rest

I was exhausted and no longer one of the best

The Sergeant checked us as he passed

Took one look at me and then in a whisper asked

Ya dopey bastard, ya wearing boots on the wrong feet?

God help us, our army is heading for defeat

Oh the ribbings since donning boots in that little tent

From Moff and other mates no matter where I went

That I was the only bloke in the beloved Regiment

Who wore boots on the wrong feet by day and night

Cos I could never tell left from right

George Mansford ©November 2011

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