Roscoe Bevington: Tenth Tattersby

Roscoe Bevington

Roscoe Bevington


I feel cheated. Yes, cheated, in a profound and unexpected way

You won’t like crediting Roscoe Bevington with profundity

Not least because, educated as you’ve been

You no doubt cherish philosophy as franchise

Don’t much take to it, a wrong’un like myself

Waxing Aristotelian on the theme of man’s demise

I missed the war. As, of course, did you . . . ergo, sirrah, you understand me

When I say those boys of Kitchener’s brigade

Had the easier time of it

How I’d have thrived as a flying ace

What reward for ramming Tattersby mid-air

What medal pinned upon my breast?

Or such as filled my casket



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(copyright 2017 Stephanie Foster)

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