Thanks to Maureen Thorley
by A. J. Sheldrick, P.O.W.
A smile is quite a funny thing
It wrinkles up your face
And when it goes you'll never find
Its secret hiding place
But far more wonderful it is
To see what smiles can do
You smile at one, he smiles at you
And so one smile makes two.
by A. E. Henn, P. O. W
When friendship or love our sympathies move
When truth in a glance should appear
The lips may beguile with a dimple or smile
But the test of affection's a tear.
To often the smile's but the hypocrite's wife
To mask detestation or fear
Give me the soft sigh, whilst the soul telling eye
Is dimmed for a time with a tear.
Mild charity's glow to us mortals below
Shows the soul from barbarity clear
Compassion will melt where the virtue is felt
And the dew is diffused in a tear.
by Bluey Johnson
The whisper of the Austrian pine trees
Sing me songs of you.
The glory of our Austrian sunset
Breaks my heart anew.
Every star that shines, entwines
My aching heart with yours
Every bird reminds me of
The smile my heart adores.
The beauty of the sunlit mountains
Every golden hue
Tells me I'm a lonely exile
Far away from you.
But when the moonlight softly taps
Against my window pane
When the midnight brings me sleep
You're in my arms again.
'Though clouds may blot out the horizon
And the day oft' seem weary and long
Just think of the dawn of tomorrow
And cheer up your heart with a song
For if every day we keep smiling
And stick to our word "Carry on"
The shadows will break into sunshine
And right will soon triumph o'er wrong
by Drum Major A. Welson, P.O.W.
Why has a man a longing for things he hasn't got?
When so many would be happy with only half his lot
So often they are wishing, if only other things they had
The use of eyes and legs and health and that precious gift to hear
Some of our comrades may have lost just one, but yet so dear
So if ever we should grumble, just think over what we've got
For those that lost what we still hold, would be happy with our lot
by An Unknown P.O.W.
When I review the things I love the most
I find a catalogue of simple joys
A blazing fire with tea and buttered toast
A boiling kettle's cheerful, homely noise.
My tiny garden with two apple trees
Cloudy with fragrant blossom in the Spring
The placid midway dappled by the breeze.
Beneath the willows where the thrushes sing
When silence settles o'er the darkened room
And Slumber dulls the edge of memory's pain
These and a hundred other pictures bloom
In slow suceession in my drowsy brain.
A host of dear loved friends with whom
I sink in sleep to dream I'm home again.
Somebody O' Mine
by Norman Bright, P.O.W.
Somebody's makin my life mighty glad
Somebody's kind to me when I feel sad
Somebody's missin' me when we're apart
Precious somebody the pride o' my heart
Somebody's fair to me all the way through
Somebody's trustin' me knows I am true
Somebody's dearer than words can define
Precious somebody, Somebody o' mine..
Take Care of the Minutes
by Cpl. J.S. Henderson, P.O.W. (The Camp)
We are but minutes little things
Each one furnished with sixty wings
With which we fly on our unseen track
And not a minute ever comes back
We are but minutes yet each one bears
A little burden of youth and cares
Patiently take the minutes of pain
The worst of minutes cannot remain.
We are but minutes, when we bring
A few of the drops from pleasures Spring
Taste the sweetness while we stay
It takes but a minute to fly away.
We are but minutes, use us well
For how we are used, we must one day tell
Who uses minutes has hours to use
Who loses minutes whole years must lose.
by Clifford Campion, P.O.W.
I travelled far but in my mind
For thoughts could range beyond my gaze
Fleet winged thought which scaled the peaks
And wended o'er the herdsman's ways
And pierced the copse of pine and larch
And knelt beside the moutain stream
Then onward yet, til' shifting sun
Revealed within its burnished gleam
The life that, and distance banned
I stood within my native land.
But sometimes thought has loaded wings
The world is filled with dull despair
The encircling mountain beauty turns
To sullen, imprisoning barriers where
The pines are torn with crackling winds
The earth emits an acrid tang
The stream turned torrent writhes and fumes.
In angry yellow spine to hang
My strident voice in anger screams
And headlong tumble o'er my life
Unreasoning sneering, childish words
But wait, Shall I my soul eclipse
That hate, deceit and weakness stand
To bar me from my native land.
Nay, laugh my soul and let me spurn
Unworthy views that I return
To all I cherish there to stand
Unashamed in my native land.
by W. A. McAlpine, P.O.W.
Every day we look for him with longing in our hearts
The man who brings us news from home and also Stalag marks
He rides a bike of yellow here, a true and trusty steed
And once a week without default, he brings 'The Camp' to read.
He never seems to hurry, but he gets here just the same
And if there's any mail for us, we almost go insane.
Let's hope they never call him up, or take him off his job
And that his mail bag gets so big, he has to hire a cab.
For that's all we live for, news of folks at home
And if the mail comes often, you'll never hear us moan.
So do your stuff old postman, and do not let us down
And when you die and leave the earth, you'll surely get a crown.
by Tom Phillips, R.E.
Hour after hour goes slowly by
Each second loathe to go
No matter what I do or try
To make them swiftly go.
Day after day rolls sadly on
No different from the last
Each morning whilst my clothes I don
One more starts drifting past.
Week after week and still it seems
Our hopes are all in vain
And only in my nightly dreams
Do I go home again.
Month after month a prisoner
Within a foreign land
Worse treated than a homeless cat
With foes on either hand.
Year after year fading away
With nothing to be shown
No single thing that can repay
For half a second shown.
'Tis thus our empty world rotates
We watch the seasons flow
And often curse those jesting fates
That gave us to the foe.
But one day soon the war will cease
Then glad will be our cry
With "Father Time" we'll make our peace
Nor wish him to roll by.
Our days we'll spend in merriment
And banish all our woe
When we are happy and content
Among the folks we know.
So for the present we will not fret
Nor let things get us down
If coming days still harder get
We'll neither flinch nor frown.
To A Parting Comrade
by Pte. Colin Murray, P.O.W.
In this time of dreary waiting
Many happy hours we've spent
Sharing all our fun together
Taking jokes as they were meant
Now our joyful days are over
Fate decrees that we must part
But the memory of our friendship
Gives us all a cheerful heart
So where e're your travels take you
And whatever friends you make
You will know you have ten comrades
And a friendship none can break
by Jack Chisholm, P.O.W.
Throughout the lone years, since the night we parted
Deep shadowed valleys oft' my paths have known
Helpless and hurt, hopeless and despairing
Sinking, nor striving to regain my own.
Yet when life's flame within so badly burning
Flickered and dimmed as if to die away
Softly your vision came, and with its coming
New hope, new courage for the new born day.
Safe through the depths, your love alone to guide me
Back on the hill-tops manhood now regained
Sharing my triumphs, ever deep inside me
Guiding, inspiring still your love remains
Now, when my day brings happiness and laughter
Something achieved some minor victory won
Joyfully shared with love, my joys re-double
Lighting my footsteps til' our parting's done.
by K. Cameron
Do you think they have forgotten all things you used to do?
Do you think they're not remembering, as you're remembering too?
Your sweethearts, your mothers, your fathers and your wives
Acquaintances and friends, lads, you've known for all your lives.
There's not a day that passes someone doesn't speak your name
And wonder how you're making out - if your're looking just the same
They keep your memory green, lads, from weary day to day
You'll find your place inside their world as if you've never been away
They write their stilted letters whenever they're allowed
They gaze at every soldier, "might be one of our Bill's crowd"
They send you books and parcels with a prayer they'll reach your hands
And thoughts go out in thousands to our boys in foreign lands
Don't think they're not remembering when you come home again
You'll find a marvellous welcome for our Unforgotten Men.