When a Beau goes in

When a beau goes in,
Into the drink,
It makes you think,
Because, you see, they always sink
But nobody says ‘Poor lad’
Or goes about looking sad
Because, you see, it’s war,
It’s the unalterable law.

Although it’s perfectly certain
The pilot’s gone for a Burton
And the observer too
It’s nothing to do with you
And if they should go
To a land where falls no rain nor hail nor driven snow –
Here, there or anywhere,
Do you suppose they care?

You shouldn’t cry
Or say a prayer or sigh.
In the cold sea, in the dark,
It isn’t a lark
But it isn’t Original Sin –
It’s just a Beau going in.

from The Collected Ewart 1933-1980: Poems (Hutchinson, 1980), © Gavin Ewart 1980, used by permission of Margo Ewart.

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