Siegfried's Brother, Vidal : A War Marriage

Do you remember, dear, the day we met?
We cleansed and styled, shampooed the parapet
Until the barbed wire looked like it had just
hobbled out of a Salon.

We hugged each other as the shells fell hard
Upon the roof above our working place,
Scattered the hirsute off-cuts in the yard-
They called it 'No Man's Land' but it was ours,
We barbered on through bayonets and bombs.

Above it all were we, we loved, we worked,
Trench marriages, unheard of 'til that day
were pioneered by us, the stalwart doves;
Even the Allies dying on our driveway
(The little pre-trench to our littler shop)
seemed bid us laugh at War, and pave the way
for freedom's healthy roots- like each trimmed head
cried 'Armistice!' unto the mud caked pawns.

Corpse customers were rolled in, and sat down
And we'd engage the sacred, pointless banter;
'Been on your holidays?' we'd question them.
"Yes' they'd burble back, through bloodied lips,
'We'd booked four years in Provence to 'wind down'...
'Such fun!' the Old Squire said, but Hun came too."

And we would smile our peevish, practised smile,
Praise the Lord, then charge in with the comb.
"Four years? Too bad... something for the weekend?"