Today’spoem

Another soldier has been slain Upon the battlefield. Another telegram is sent. Another casket sealed. Dear ones, their hearts

all broken Will try to stem the tide Of grief, by overlaying it With patriotic pride. And we, though distant

strangers, Know each beloved face Through media despatches from That far off, war-torn place. We learn the regiment

and rank, We know from whence

they came. One great extended family,

We honour every name. And I think of all the

battles fought With guns and knives

and staves, And all the unknown soldiers Laid in all the unmarked graves.

Tricia Sturgeon, mundesley, Norfolk.

...and limerick

Iran, with its act so superior, Implies that the West is inferior. And with its embargo On all our oil cargo, It’s a real pain in

the posterior. Robert Ben-nathan,

denham, Bucks.

Nursery rhymes for our times

Simple Simon met a pieman Charging people VAT, So Simon to the pieman said: ‘They’re cold — you can’t

do that!’ ‘Yes I can,’ the pieman said, ‘Because they’re nice and hot.’ So Simple Simon prodded them And said: ‘Oh no, they’re not!’ ‘Freshly baked,’ the

pieman said. ‘In fact, my hands got burned, ‘So Herbie’s Home-made Pies

are hot ‘As far as I’m concerned. ‘And since you’ve handled all

my wares ‘You’ll have to buy the lot, ‘That’s fifty quid plus VAT. ‘Cos I still say they’re hot!’

I. G. Fenner, New milton, Hants.