Sunday, 27 June 2010


The story of your lives ... well, the American version. The Brit version varies in details and accents only.



Anonymous said...

The following poem was given to Mr Griffin by one of our members in Cumbria, Helen Stevenson, whose son is currently on a tour of duty in Afghanistan.

It shows the emotions and the unseen suffering of the families and loved ones at home. It is a potent reminder of the scale of suffering unseen by the public and unremarked upon by the mass media.

Helen has showed great courage in sharing this with the chairman. Please read it and ponder on this conflict.

To hold my precious grandson

To hear the pride of his dad,

It should make me so happy

But it makes me scared and sad.

Will he ever come back to cuddle him

And stroke his tiny hand?

Will he ever return from fighting

In that far off, foreign land?

Will this loving little baby

Ever chuckle to his dad?

Or will 'Dad' just be a story

That will always make him sad?

Will daddy be there to take him

On his very first school run?

Or will he be among our Fallen

Killed by bomb or by the gun?

Will his dad be there to help him

When he takes his driving test?

Or many years before that

Will we have laid my Boy to rest?

If the bloody politicians

Sent their own sons off to fight,

Oh, then they'd quickly change their minds

"This war just isn't right".

Mr. Brown, while you're tucked up

So safe in bed each night,

My son is out there with his mates

Prepared to stand and fight.

Why can't you do the right thing?

Tell them, bring home their guns.

Set me free to place my grandson

In the arms of my soldier son.

Silly Kuffar said...

Control, Control, Control.