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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