The Pensioners' Epilogue

They stood, not amid the alien corn,

But breast high deep in weeds.

The pensioners had ‘flunked' their task,

The place had served their needs

        - At the bottom of the garden.

Somewhere to ‘bivvy', yarn and smoke,

And laze away the days;

Recall the battles, oft re-fought,

And talk of army ways

        - At the bottom of the garden.

But now to old campaigners there

The signals were quite clear.

Time to move on, pack up and go –

The ‘enemy' was near

        - At the bottom of the garden.

So, once again, like stars at dawn,

They quietly slipped away;

They'd try the marshes in the fens

Where Mother Earth holds sway

        - From the bottom of the garden.

And so, at last, they've really gone,

The interlude is over;

Let's hope they settle down at last

And find themselves in clover

- Away from the bottom of the garden.

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