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Turnings

Poetry from the Blog

Up on the Admiralty square
the sergeant turns his squad about.
The virgin ‘royals’ are not aware
this morning’s tide is running out.

The boats are turning on their moorings.
The squad is turning as one man.
The Lympstone boats are going nowhere.
These boys are for Afghanistan.

The boats are nudging this and that way.
They heed no snap word of command.
Some start late and some start early;
some point seaward, some to land.

The squad is turning as one man
up there on the booties’ square.
These boys are for Afghanistan.
The boats aren’t going anywhere.

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