31.       THE TANK

Tin of hulk and bulk
You make even the big boys sulk
From their crew to footwear.
We bring the target to bear
As it hits a mirror image
Of a mobile carnage.
Some sit in the cage
Hoping for old age.
Others follow the partridge
And run for patronage
And disengage
The crawling heap
From its back to front.
They pray for anti-armour
And a very big haystack
The other reactive armour.