He told me about the war
Amongst themselves their own fellas
And the grog the jails the police
He did not want to talk about the women
Ne’er mention their fear
Ne’er mention the children
The despair
Told me how the relatives just fell down dead
With Whiteman’s bottle
Tucked wonderfully under their cheeky smiles
Eyes wide open as death hovered
In painful last hours
Oblivion was
Their best friend so often
All
Sad men black men
Dead Men