Lucy Burrow Biography

When Summers blue sky fades to grey
And swiftly ends the shortening day,
When coldness takes the flowers away
Ill dance the dance of winter!
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Bravest men we hailed them then
England sent her finest men
The war to end all wars to fight
A cause each one believed was right
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'Voice of a Wildebeast? ' she said......
She sort of spat it out
Mockingly
Her lined brow furrowed
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I’m the tree on the battlefield – a pitiful sight
I watch as the bullets fly to left and to right
I’m the tree that’s watched blood flow from every man’s heart
I’m the tree on the battlefield, half blown apart.
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Daylight's twinkling eye now firmly shuts
And busy bird's nestmaking labours still.
Now all the land takes diff'rent hues of night
And hungry owl-call tones are heard to shrill;
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