Friday 20 April 2012

The death of an old soldier.

July 1948 was the date,The NHS was born; to Tory scorn.
from the cradle to the grave, something for the brave,
who'd fought in World War Two;
for me and you.

Walter was young and bold, now he's old and cold.
The heating bills are high, He counts his meagre pension with a sigh.
He feels ill, did he take that pill?
He needs a break, his arms ache.

His chest begins to hurt, he grasps at his shirt,
grasping for breath, sweating - near death.
Voices, 'Granddad!' 'Hold in there old lad.'
Sirens and lights. Walter's old, but he fights.

Recovering, good, eating his food.
Low budget cleaning, private firm.
Somehow Walter picked up a germ.
MRSA the scourge of the day.

Low budget Nursing home; some don't have to pay;
unless like Walter, they worked every day,
saved up hard all their life, to look after children,
along with the wife.

Kids sold his house to pay for his care,
whilst scroungers didn't have to pay any fare.
Walter died of MRSA and neglect.
A weakened old man deprived, without care; bereft of respect.

In the end Walter suffered, confused, alone, and in fear,
He was loved by family but, the Government don't care?
Low budgets, neglect for privatisation;
A terrible abuse of those who saved our Nation.  

No comments:

Post a Comment