Weekly rowing poem from a Rowperfect reader – Kevin Pyne. His lyrical and ironic poem touches on the transience of life, marked by a Senior B Men’s Rowing Crew who never made it through WWI.
On the rowing clubhouse wall There is a picture Of four lads and a coxswain Before it is that wartime Came their so young way They were pals
Who all loved the noble art? Of rowing Especially after a gruelling day
It says their names in order From the bowman Right down to the fit looking So young stroke After which the word coxswain Is abbreviated to cox In recognition of he who was A gutsy cheeky little bloke
It is dated as being in the Summer of nineteen fourteen Before it is they all Went away It is entitled in copper script Men’s senior B fours As none of them would live Through the Great War To become in fact the senior A
Now you might ask why We need ware our poppies And what does that which Has gone on in the past mean To one such as you But just remember you are Free to go when and where You want to Because of those other Now long lost but not forgotten Rowing crews
And did they die as airmen Soldiers or sailors Who is there alive now that Might say Save nothing but a battered Old silver trophy That just says for the boys Who never made it? But should have been In time the men’s senior A
