Knockkneed and cursing or coughing like hags Men marched on sleeping
 some without boots Fatigue drunken deaf still to the hoots Of breaking
 gas shells Dropping softly behind But limped on bloodshod All went
 lame all went blind Gas gas quick boys fumbling helmets in time
 Someone still screaming a man in fire or lime Under a grey cloud dim
 dark through green light In all my dreaming before my helpless sight
 He plunges at me Choking guttering drowning Put in a wagon he had to
 keep pace As his eyes melt to his face If you could hear blood
 Gurgling from ruptured lungs If you could witness Vile sores on
 innocent tongues You would not tell me Not with such pride and such
 zest The lies of history Dulce et decorum est Pro patria mori Some
 desperate glory Pro patria mori As witness disturbs the story Pro
 patria mori Stand firm boys breathe the glory