static culture

Short Stories & Flash Fiction from a London Based Writer/ Film Maker

Red Coat

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Slaughter, ruin,
Murder and rape.
All the things,
A brigand make.
But not when in step,
To his majesty’s drum.
I’m doing all right,
With my red coat on.

In Africa and India,
And to south of Spain.
The natives fight hard,
But fight in vain
As none’s as ruthless,
As England old.
Marching proud,
With her red coat bold.

In Irish glades,
And Scottish Heather.
I’ll wet me’ blade,
An’ scuff me’ leather.
Until John Bull says ‘tis done.
When the glades are as red,
As me’ red coat on.

And when oft’ asked,
By common folk.
Why it is we don,
That bright red coat.
We’ll reaffirm,
With a little smile.
That the Devil lent it us a while.

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Author: static culture

A Writer/ Independent Film Maker from Manchester, England living in London.

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