Painswick War Memorial
¶ 1
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On the day they buried Tommy Lawton
I was on a bus opposite Painswick Church,
On a cold and dull November morning,
And as I stared out of the window,
The sun rose up from behind the hills
And lightened the leaden grey sky
With fingers of silver.
The village church stood strong in winter shadow,
Shrouded with its yew trees,
And a Remembrance Day wreath lay by the War Memorial,
And twelve small crosses with twelve small poppies
Stood in the cold damp ground of the churchyard.
And on this day,
They buried Tommy Lawton at Bramhope Cemetary,
In Nottingham;
Tommy Lawton,
Black and White Brylcreem Capstan Full Strength Centre Forward,
An England International,
Whose career was ruined by “The War”.
But there was a splash of red at Bramhope too,
A wreath of red roses for this Lancashire Lad,
And on his coffin was a tasselled England international cap,
Won in 1946, but sold twenty years later, to make ends meet.
And this is how the modern world remembers its debts,
With poppies and with pawnbrokers.
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