Oradour-sur-Glane

I woke to the smell of new baked bread

From the bakery, down the way,

Mama was singing and feeding the hens,

I had no school today,

Pierre and I had arranged to go

For a ramble, soon or late,

To look for the trilling skylark’s nest,

And the hedgehog’s rolling gait.

 

Papa was sat in the garden, he

Was fixing my sister’s bike,

While Grandpa sat on the old wood bench,

Filling his gnarled old pipe,

The sun was set in a pale blue sky

And the lord smiled down on the town,

The war was a million miles away

From Oradour-sur-Glane.

 

Pierre was waiting across the street,

We ran with a whoop of joy,

‘I’ll race you out to the barley field,’

He said, my cousin’s boy.

We found a hollow within the crop

Lay there in the broad sunlight,

And watched the birds as they swooped on down

From their laughing, joyous flight!

 

At two o’clock, we heard the clatter

Of many an Army truck,

They drove to surround the village fields,

There were twenty, near enough.

Then soldiers leapt from the canopies,

Their uniforms were black,

An SS sign on their collars, and

A skull on each forage cap!

 

They herded the workers into the town,

We lay in a funk, and hid,

We heard the guttural, sharp commands,

They did as the soldiers bid,

A woman ran in a terror then,

A shot rang out and she fell,

Pierre stood up, as he ran he cried:

‘That was my aunt Giselle!’

 

I said: ‘Come back!’ but he ran towards

The centre of the town,

A shot rang out as he scaled the fence,

Pierre went tumbling down!

I knew at once that my friend was dead,

I held my breath, and wept,

And burrowed deep in the barley field,

I see his body yet!

 

They marched the men en masse along

To Madame Laudy’s barn,

They led the women and children

To the church, in their alarm!

They took the babies, pushers too,

Crammed deep inside the church,

But then the SS opened fire,

And they lit a blazing torch.

 

The men, they were slaughtered in the barn,

They never told them why,

The barn went up in flames as well,

I lay in the field, and cried,

I lost my mother and sister too,

My father and my gran,

The Devil smiled on his work that day

In Oradour-sur Glane!

 

They burnt the town, burnt every home,

They turned the town to hell,

I wonder whether the soldiers wept

When they went down, as well;

For off the coast, at Normandy

Was an Army with a plan,

To slay the butchers that killed the town

Of Oradour-sur-Glane!

 

David Lewis Paget

Reviews

[Mark]

This is something of a new tack for you, writing verse that memorializes actual historical events...At least, I have no recollections of others of that ken. But with that unerring Paget style, you have brought the horrors of man's nature to the fore, for an entire generation who cannot imagine them, and cloaked a bloody day--one of only too many--in your most approachable style. Thank you, Dave.

[Jeremy Baker]

Having seen the surreal remains of that town, and wept, I can only applaud your work and the memory of those who were martyred there. Profoundly moving.

[Amila Jay]

love the way you have rhymed the words, a great poem it is:-)

[Neva Flores Smith - Cha..]

wonderfully written as only one with your talent can do..........love it.

[Pratik]

You have such a great, great gift of storytelling through your poems... they are understandable yet leave a deep impact on our thoughts after the read... through the intricately woven tale of innocence, you leave an universal message- how war can never be an answer to problems....the rhyme is so well fitting, it never falls out of the place... Excellent work sir!

[roarke]

In all your pieces, you take great care in setting the scene. You do this so well, it's taken for granted because within one or two stanza's the reader knows everything as if they lived in the tale their whole lives. That's a magical talent.

In this piece is illustrated how one setting in life can change forever in the mere passing of a morning sun. There's a matter of fact-ness about your recount of the horrors and brutality that doesn't dwell in gratuity, but instills the actions with the reality of a heavy setting stone.
Although even in retrospect, at the end, I wonder is there ever is any justice in war. Too much loss to account for I think.
A legend of a write.

[Irfan Bashir Shah]

My words are not potent enough to leave a mark here.... Your poems are the only ones here in WC that teach me one think after the other.....
It feels as if i was there when all the action was taking place....... An epic poem, once again!

[patricia]

I love the way your poems tell a story, before pen and paper people needed their memory's a lot more to pass their tales on to the next generation, your work is very pleasing, though the subject here is tragic, one of the many second world war atrocities. You relate in that wonderful rythm of yours and it flows at such a great speed. It is always enjoyable reviewing your writing, because you do it right well! (just a bit o lancashire slang for ya) Thanks David.