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War Poem dated 1917

THE FATAL WOODEN TRACK - Poem by the great grandfather of a Year 9 student
ln a little place not far from Ypres, Sir'
Just a little further back
By the name of Minuman Road' Sir
better known as "Wooden Track",
lf you went through the whole of Belgium
On along to the Somme and back
There's no Place so full of terror,
As that Fatal Wooden Track'
T'is always in our memory
As here we try to tell
There is no Place to compare it
Not even the Place called "Hell"
So oft it is the drivers duty'
Of the column further back,
To carry ammunition all
Alongthat Fatal Track'
And when we get the order
To be readY sharp at nine,
You will see the drivers mounted'
And ready for the line"
But still it is their duty,
As every one should know,
And though death should await them
Forward they will go'
For guns are always calling
For shells both night and day
And as they near the place, Sir'
They think of Home and Pray'
They Pray to God in Heaven
To bring them safely back
And give them strength and courage
When once they're on the track'
T'is then they need the courage
As they gatlop uPpthe track
Though shells may fall like hail, Sir'
There's no retuming back
Though tragic in its splendour
To a scene that meets the eye,
The bravest and the best, Sir,
Have gone there, "Alas to die"'
T'is a scene ofwondrous courage
Most awfu to behold,
And the bravest men amongst them
Felt their blood run cold'
To see the heaps of wreckage
Of animals and men
Left on the field of battle,
Never to retum again'
But when the'\ryar is over'
And in Blighty we are back
We shall then try to forget, Sir,
That Fatal Wooden Track'
E. W. .Hawkins.l9l7