POEMS ON THE SAS
A WORD ABOUT THE SAS
Ready to face the foe,
it begins.
Steadfast to your motto,
"Who Dares Wins"
Where brave men fear to tread,
you are there;
filling the foe with dread
and despair.
Behind enemy lines,
all alone;
avoiding guns and mines,
on your own.
No one must see your face,
or your kit;
your observation place,
conceals it.
Out all night 'til sunrise,
at your post;
avoiding compromise,
at all cost.
Respected by the world,
as top class.
First in, you are hurled
by the 'brass'.
Normal, overt warfare,
or covert;
by land, by sea, or air,
so expert.
Desert, jungle or snow,
all terrains;
there's nowhere you won't go,
for our pains.
No matter what the tasks,
field or flood,
when the Regiment asks
for your blood.
Men of so much courage,
on trial.
In the face of carnage,
so loyal.
There are no finer troops
on this earth.
Committed to your group's
matchless worth.
You pay a heavy price,
on our part.
Yet nothing will suffice,
but your heart.
You take tough decisions,
life and death!
Deniable missions
get no wreath!
Some get PTSD,
from the drama.
Some look as if they are
in a coma.
In action your proud fame--
Victorious!
You have the finest name--
Glorious!
We never hear you boast,
of your fame.
We raise a peerless toast,
to your name!
JOE AND THE SAS
It were in the early 70’s,
An’ Joe ‘ad been seconded,
‘E’d ‘ad the call from the SAS,
An’ duly ‘e ‘ad responded.
Sterling ‘ad formed the SAS,
During the 2nd World War,
By gum they were reet tough lads,
An’ ‘ad given the Krauts “what for” !
Now they currently ‘ad a big problem,
Which were tekking some working out,
So they called in the country’s top scientists,
An’ Joe Fleming – of that ‘ave no doubt.
As ‘e drove to the gates at ‘Ereford,
A Gurkha jumped out from a bush,
‘E tripped an’ fell ovver ‘is weapon,
The lad were in ‘ell of a rush.
Lying prone on t’ floor ‘e said, “’Alt, oo goes there?”
“General Fleming,” said Joe, haughty-like,
But the Gurkha were disorientated,
‘E said, “Pull t’ other one – gerron yer bike!”
Now Joe, angry-like, said, “Look at th’ ID,”
An’ the Gurkha were sort of embarrassed,
‘E said, “ Cor blimey,” in an Asian twang,
“Forgive me, but lately I’m ‘arrassed!”
Next day at the meeting an’ all the ensemble,
Stood up wi’ respect for Our Joe,
‘Is legend were now International,
‘E were ‘ero were Joe – don’t yer know?
When Joe sat down, so did the audience,
Then immediately ‘e jumped up again,
Bugger me, so did all t’ other lads,
An’ Joe ‘ad a giggle to issen.
Then one of t’ top scientists on t’ podium,
Jumps up an’ said, “Joe, listen ‘ere,
We’ve got a big problem we ‘ave,
If yer solve it, I’ll buy yer a beer.
One of the jobs that our lads ‘ave,
Behind enemy lines – if yer like,
Is to pinpoint the site of the target,
Then yon jet plane can meck perfect strike.
We parachute lads into battle,
At yon target they let off a flare,
Trouble is it lights up th’ whole area,
An’ the enemy know that they’re there.
We’ve lost some good lads ‘as th’ SAS,
An’ their parents are allus reet vexed,
Most on ‘em write to t’ Prime Minister,
An’ some send yon Queen nasty text!”
By now Joe ‘ad like an ‘eadache,
Caused by high expectation,
So ‘e chose to retire to ‘is bed,
‘Oping for inspiration.
All ‘e dreamed of were right-angled triangles,
An’ other mathematical stuff,
An’ when ‘e awoke in t’ morning,
‘E were feeling a little bit rough.
So when t’ batman ‘ad drawn back the curtains,
An’ let in the dawning sun,
Joe forego ‘is ‘ot cup of tea,
But gulped back a large tot o’ rum.
So later, an’ strolling to t’ meeting,
A plan were emerging in ‘is ‘ead,
It came to ‘im during ‘is dreams,
When snugly tucked up in ‘is bed.
“Good morning lads,” Joe said to th’ audience,
An’ ‘e plonked issen down in ‘is chair,
‘E ‘ad a perplexed sort of look on ‘is mush,
The others all looked in despair.
But Joe were just ‘aving a laugh like,
‘E stood up with a smug-like expression,
An’ said, “Right lads, I think I know th’answer,
An’ so’ll YOU by the end of this session.
You remember a bloke called Pythagoras,
Born in 569 BC,
‘E started mathematics ‘e did,
An’ discovered th’ ‘ypotenuse you see!
There’s a new thing out called the laser,
A kind of striking piercing light,
An’ pinpointing t’ target from distance,
You’ll guide t’ fighter – aye, even in t’ night.”
Well all the top scientists were baffled,
So Joe got out from ‘is pocket,
A plastic triangle like kids use,
An’ an imitation rocket.
‘E said, “Lads, your planes ‘as computers,
An’ at the end of yon laser beam,
Lies t’ target for t’ pilot to lock on,
Our soldier will never be seen.”
So The Ministry developed Joe’s system,
An’ Joe were declared national hero,
As the losses the Army incurred,
Went from lots to bloody nigh zero!
Much later at th’ Iranian Embassy siege,
An’ even the raid on Entebbe,
Joe once again were called into action,
But I’ll tell yer that later – well mebbe !