22.            THOUSAND POUNDER

I remember
You spoke English or French,
We lugged you accordingly
We load you accordingly,
Thousand pounder.
As we fuse you
And tally you
To the aircraft.
You soon took to the air
Dots beyond repair
When your screams bring news
Of another tally affair.
Over six hundred dead they said
And how happy the few
While mothers and fathers
Are buried like their children’s hopes.
Leave you under the dew
Weapons of doom
That gives no room
It is Mrs. Deaths groom.
If you could give life
Like your doom
You could face your Creator
For He is also the Father
Of your enemy.