Harvey

Louis was my dearest friend

Fighting in the Anzac trench.

Louis ran forward from the line, 

And I never saw him again.



Later in the dark

I though I heard Louis' voice

Calling for his Mother, then me, 

But I couldn't get to him.



He's still up there on that hill.

20 years on that hill.

Nothing more than a pile of bones, 

But I think of him still



If I was asked I'd tell

The colour of the earth that day; 

It was dull and browny-red, 

"the colour of blood" I'd say.