Poem of the day

Atrocities

You told me, in your drunken-boasting

mood,

How once you butchered prisoners. That

was good!

I'm sure you felt no pity while they stood

Patient and cowed and scared, as

prisoners should.

How did you do them in? Come, don't

be shy:

You know I love to hear how Germans die,

Downstairs in dug-outs. "Camerad!"

they cry;

Then squeal like stoats when bombs

begin to fly.

And you? I know your record. You

went sick

When orders looked unwholesome:

then, with trick

And lie, you wangled home. And here

you are,

Still talking big and boozing in a bar.

Siegfried Sassoon (1917)

This poem was censored during the First World War