Doctor Mustardie

Doctor Mustardie was a member of the Royal Army Medical Corps.

Prisoners of War

Thanks to Nola Muller.

Barren wastes of stone and sand,
Dry unfertile desert land,
Spiked wire on every hand.
Prisoners of war

A hapless host of hungry men
Crowded like rats in cage or pen,
Shut off it seems from human ken,
Prisoners of war.

Ill clad, unkempt and underfed,
Trading their watches and rings for bread,
And chilly concrete floor for bed.
Prisoners of war.

Awaiting for hours in blistering heat,
Receiving as morsel of bread and meat.
Glad even of its scraps they eat
Prisoners of war.

Bullied and driven like flocks of sheep,
Treated as dirt from dawn till sleep,
Hearts being filled with hatred deep,
Prisoners of war.

Cut off from news of the outside world,
Sifting the truth from the taunts that are hurled.
Sullenly keeping the flag unfurled.
Prisoners of war.

Striving to keep alive your hope,
Finding at times its beyond your scope.
Drugging yourself with rumours as dope.
Prisoners of war.

Setting new values on trivial things,
The smell of flowers, the Skylark that sings,
The beauty and grace of butterfly wings.
Prisoners of war.

Seeing that life without freedom is vain,
T’is better to die than live in chains.
Thank God for sure hope of release again.
Prisoners of war.

Seeing new meanings in higher things
In life in Christ in the hope of better things
Thus did they treat the King of Kings.
Prisoners of war.

Finding at last if you’ve eyes to see,
His glorious truth fixed by God’s decree,
As long as the soul is unchained you’re free,
Prisoners of war.