Revised Nursery Rhymes 1

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Doc grabs a rag, and knots it round my arm
to stanch my jagged wounds, then flexing firm,
he twists a joint, and tugging frees a bone.
I’ve seen and done worse with a Bowie knife,
and yet I clench teeth as the end slides out.
“A fall that height would kill another man.
They said you were a grunt tougher than most,
a grunt to hump his pack for miles, and dump
a ton of red hot lead in some guy’s face.”
“Damn, cut the shit, Doc. Put me back again.
The king’s best men have left me here for dead,
intestine bared like Bratwurst freshly squeezed.
The mortar blasts mean Death is closing in.
Doc, put me back again, or we both sleep
unnamed, unloved, a putrid maggot feast.”

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