But when that moment arrives, HE straps on packs and check his breach
And runs into action, teeth clenched tight, charges into the ferment.
Battle, fight or all out War, those empty bottles have a score
Because empty bottles are real men, who fight for us again, again and more
And depart the field to a hero’s chant, to feast not from the fatted calf.
Awaiting him is not adulation, the best wishes of a grateful Nation,
But a Badge he can wear in Tesco’s queues. A Veterans Badge for a debt so huge.
It is a piece of grey composite worn on lapels full of tat
By those who support we empty bottles? Some from afar or four star hotels,
Politicians, voyeurs and entrepreneurs. Those out to make a quick buck,
Oil magnates, arms merchants and sleazy dealers all on the same truck.
Yet Fusiliers, Riflemen, Paras, Marines, Gunners, Engineers real fighting machines
Who return from the mountains for a pint with their pals to this desert of disillusion,
Will not harvest a rich reward for theirs is the payment of non-inclusion.
At twelve o’clock sharp Tony Blair will say “It is with deep regret that I have to announce…”today
Sometimes he is mortal, each Parliamentary Wednesday, for he omits this from his oft practiced verse
Empty bottles will get a badge to wear in Tesco’s queues. A Veterans Badge for a debt so huge.
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