THE FINAL INSPECTION

 THE FINAL INSPECTION 
From an old soldier, a friend; 
dedicated to all that have served.

The soldier stood and faced his God

Which must always come to pass
He hoped his shoes were shining
Just as brightly as his brass
"Step foward now you soldier,
How shall I deal with you?
Have you always turned the other cheek,
And to my church have you been true?"

The soldier squared his shoulders and said,
"No Lord, I guess I ain't,
Because those of us who carry guns,
Can't always be saints
"I've had to work most Sundays
And at times my talk was tough
And sometimes I've been violent
Because the streets were awfully rough"

But I never took a penny,
That was'nt mine to keep
Though I worked a lot of overtime
When the bills just got to steep,
And I never passed a cry for help
Although, at times I shook with fear
And sometimes, God forgive I've wept unmanly tears

I know I don't deserve a place
Among the people here
That never wanted me around
Except to calm there fears
If you have a place for me here
O' Lord It needn't be so grand
I've never expected, or had so much
But if you don't I'll understand"

There was a silence all around the throne
Where the Saints had often trod
As this soldier waited quietly
For the judgment from his God
"Step foward now you soldier,
You've borne your burdens well
Walk peacefully on Heaven's streets,
You've done your time in Hell"

To all my old comrades and especially the dead brother of one of the Bombardiers from 1st Field Regiment RhA whose body is lying unclaimed because the tyrant Mugabe will not allow a decent burial. To the Beech Clan with thanks to Graeme.