Classic Poem

He primmed his loose red mouth and leaned his head
Against a sorrowing angel's breast, and said:
" You'd think so much bereavement would have made
" Unusual big demands upon my trade.
" The War comes cruel hard on some poor folk;
" Unless the fighting stops I'll soon be broke."

He eyed the Cemetery across the road.
" There's scores of bodies out abroad, this while,
" That should be here by rights. They little know'd
" How they'd get buried in such wretched style."

I told him with a sympathetic grin,
That Germans boil dead soldiers down for fat;
And he was horrified. " What shameful sin!
" O sir, that Christian souls should come to that!"