[I know the verse's are a bit short, but the poem itself isn't the longest}

B.R.E presents:"Dulce et Decorum Est"
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Amazing grace! How sweet the sound,
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound

Verse 1:
We were bent double, like aged beggars beneath sacks…
Needed to face facts, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags…
No time to relax, on the haunting flares we turned our backs…
we cursed through murky sludge, the enemy, were quick to judge…
Foe’s we held a grudge, towards our distant rest began to trudge…
Men marched asleep, many began to weep, countless lost there boots…
Ground reeked of blood, But we limped on, blood-shod, All went lame; all blind…
In God we confined, nearly everyone deaf even to the hoots, insane in the mind…
Of tired, outstripped Five-Nines that dropped behind, were the foundations of mankind…

Hook x2:
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see

Verse 2:
Gas! GAS! Quick, boys! -- An ecstasy of fumbling, our stomachs rumbling…
Lives crumbling, Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time, men stumbling…
Green clouds towering, brave soldiers mumbling, last words of devouring dreams…
floundering like a man in fire or lime, overpowering gas, shortens eternal time…
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light, many will needlessly die tonight…
The rivals delight, were expected to be the white knight’s, but surely we have brains…
Walking through what remains, of gallant souls, avoiding hefty mortar holes…
In all my dreams, life is not what it seems, lives accounting for, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

Hook x2:
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see

Verse 3:
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace, freedom to the human race…
War it can erase, and not one solely soul it can replace, no-one can win…
Our messiah we heartily embrace, Behind the wagon that we flung him in…
We watched the white eyes writhing in his forgotten face, devil's sick of sin…
Man is a disgrace, our target Berlin, to battle the evil spirit that lies within…
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood, his elapsed face, dirty with mud…
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs, a flood of horrific images…
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud, Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues…
My friend, you would not inform with such high zest, if you know the rest…
Of blessed character’s, possessed minds, too many blinds, fiery gas it suggests…
Children ardent for some desperate glory, depressed with thoughts of war gory…
The old lie: Dulce et decorum est……Pro patria mori

Hook x5:
Amazing grace! How sweet the sound
That saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now am found,
Was blind, but now I see