Furnley Maurice
One year, two year, three year, four,
Comes a khaki gentleman knocking at the door.
‘Any little boys at home, send them out to me
To train them and brain them in battles yet to be.’
When a little boy is born feed him, train him so.
Put him in a cattle pen and wait for him to grow.
When he’s nice and plump and dear, and sensible and sweet,
Throw him in the trenches for the great grey rats to eat.
Toss him in the cannon’s mouth, cannons fancy best
Tender little boys’ flesh that’s easy to digest.
Mother rears her family on two pounds ten a week.
Teaches them to wash themselves, teaches them to speak.
Rears them with a heart’s love, rears them to be men.
Grinds her fingers to the bone, and then… what then?
But parents who must rear the boys the cannons love to slay,
Also pay for cannons that blow other boys away.
Parsons tell them that their sons have just been blown to bits.
Patriotic parents must all laugh like fits.
Rear the boys for honest men and send them out to die!
Where’s the coward father who would dare raise a cry?
Any gentleman’s aware folk rear their children for
Blunderers and plunderers to mangle in a war!
Five year, six year, seven year, eight.
‘Hurry up you little chaps, the captain’s at the gate!’
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Analysis (AI Assisted)
This poem is an unflinching critique of war, focusing on the cyclical exploitation of young boys and the societal machinery that perpetuates it. Its tone is bitter and direct, using simple language to expose the grim absurdities of a system that sacrifices innocence for conflict. There is no subtlety here, and that’s the point—the bluntness matches the horror it describes.
The sing-song rhythm of the opening lines gives the poem an unsettling nursery rhyme quality, underscoring how deeply ingrained this process is in society. The “khaki gentleman” at the door becomes a chilling figure, not just a recruiter but a symbol of the inevitability of war. The use of rhyme and rhythm contrasts with the grim reality described, amplifying the sense of dread.
The imagery in the second stanza is graphic and grotesque, making the violence and dehumanization impossible to ignore. Boys are compared to livestock, raised for slaughter, their flesh fodder for cannons and rats. This stark metaphor strips away any romanticism of war, presenting it as a brutal process that consumes lives indiscriminately. The phrase “easy to digest” is particularly haunting, reducing these children to mere resources for a war machine.
The third stanza shifts focus to the mothers who raise these boys, emphasizing their love and sacrifice. This section is deeply emotional, highlighting the disconnect between the care put into nurturing children and the senselessness of sending them to die. The rhetorical “and then… what then?” hammers home the futility and heartbreak.
The poem doesn’t spare society as a whole, calling out parents and parsons alike. The biting sarcasm in lines like “patriotic parents must all laugh like fits” targets the absurdity of accepting such loss without question. The use of “blunderers and plunderers” as descriptors for those in power is a scathing indictment of the leaders who profit from war while ordinary people pay the price in blood and grief.
The final stanza circles back to the nursery rhyme cadence, adding a chilling inevitability to the poem’s conclusion. The image of the captain at the gate reinforces the idea that this cycle will continue unless challenged. The repetition of years emphasizes how long this has been happening, with no end in sight.
This poem doesn’t seek to console or offer hope—it’s an accusation, a mirror held up to a society complicit in its own destruction. Its rawness and lack of embellishment make it powerful, forcing readers to confront the cost of war not just in lives lost, but in the way it warps values and devours future generations. There’s no pretense of honor here, only a relentless critique of a world that raises boys to die.