"Skirmishing with The Little 'C'"

I’ve danced with Death a time or two
And so far come off best
But there’s no kind of certainty
That I’ll always pass the test.

I’ve skirmished with the best of ‘em
Picked up a scar or two
Had a close encounter with a bayonet
But it didn’t run me through.

I’ve been peppered by mortar shells
But it just was not my time
And picked up the odd ball bearing
From my own side’s Claymore mine.

I’ve heard Death’s deadly whisper
In the bullet’s whiplash crack
And as I ducked away from it
Felt his fingers on my back!

I nearly drowned in the River Camel
In Doom Bar’s spiteful rip
And in a flat bottomed Landing Craft
In a Cyclone’s fearful grip!

But these are only little scratches
Beside two lovers who must part
For there are few wounds deeper
Than those of a broken heart!

But now I face the Surgeon’s knife
And if it’s so…  I must
It’s a little like surrender
When you take so much on trust.

But trust’s a thing that will carry you
Through many a scrape or fight
When you rely on the man beside you,
At your six and left and right.

So trust I shall, the Surgeons hand
It’s cunning and it’s skill
The Nurses tender care will pull
Me through… I trust it will.

But if, perchance, my time is up
And Death is hovering near,
Well Death is just an old old friend
And one I do not fear!

I would not rage against the night
As many think we should
I’ve had a long and loving life
And trust my death’ll be as good!

Copyright © Res Burman 12^th August 2018