A LOCAL BLOG SUPPORTING THE BRITISH DEMOCRATIC PARTY IN THE INTERESTS OF THE INDIGENOUS BRITISH PEOPLE AND ESPECIALLY THE PEOPLE OF WIGAN AND LEIGH IN OUR FIGHT AGAINST FASCISM, THE TRAITORS IN PARLIAMENT AND FOR OUR BIRTHRIGHT. - "NO FOREIGN PRINCE, PERSON, PRELATE, STATE OR POTENTATE HATH, OR OUGHT TO HAVE, ANY JURISDICTION, POWER, SUPERIORITY, PRE-EMINENCE, OR AUTHORITY, ECCLESIASTICAL OR SPIRITUAL, WITHIN THIS REALM" (ENGLISH BILL OF RIGHTS 1689)
Sunday, 27 June 2010
TERRISTS ETC.
The story of your lives ... well, the American version. The Brit version varies in details and accents only.
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.
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.
ReplyDeleteIt 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.
Control, Control, Control.
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