THIS poem was read out by David Horrigan at the Birchwood Remembrance service earlier this month.

It received such a strong, emotional reaction that we decided to share it with our readers.

Home by Christmas?

They said I’d be home for Christmas, As I signed the dotted line, I kissed my ma and said, “I love you, don’t worry, I’ll be fine.

O’er the top, we left our trenches, Shells and bullets washed by rain, In the mud the bullet found me, I will ne’er go home again.

In Flanders Fields I met my maker, My soul lifted to the sky.

My mortal body lies a sleeping, Mum and dad, please don’t cry.

I was posted, ‘Lost in Action’ My body was not found, It sank into the mud, boy In Flanders killing ground.

My family mourned my passing, Candles lit most every night, As they prayed The Lord to keep me, Dear mother’s hair turned white.

No more will I walk down, The streets of my home town, I lie here in Flanders field dear, Buried six feet under ground.

They shall not age nor shall they weary, Those young men all the same, They lie at peace there, no pains or worries, A shiny head stone stands above them, Those who pass by can read their names, Please say a prayer dear, maybe it’s not too late, Each and every evening, remembered at Menin Gate.

Every morn and every evening, we hear the bugles call, We are remembered, not forgotten, May God Bless you, one and all.

n Written on August 1 to commemorate those brave souls who perished in the killing fields of Flanders.

DAVID HORRIGAN Warrington