I’m charging across No Man’s Land,
Pins and needles in my hand,
Death awaits, it’s soon to be,
A few more minutes before a bullet goes through me.
Giant German planes droning,
My tortured ears with constant moaning,
I start to look, shoot and fire,
But lose focus and trip on barbed wire.
My bitter cold fingers try to push me off the ground, 
While a German soldier runs at me like a hound,
I fall into the clutches of shell shock,
As a bomb hits the ground making an awful sound.
Preparing for the German gas,
Who’s going to tell my boys and my lass?
Harry Sawdon, aged ten, Eaglescliffe