The mines were buried beneath the ground,
Soft, silent, not making a sound.
When the mines were woken, controlled from inside,
The explosion was horrible and blew your mind.
Under the German trenches they went,
The element of surprise was meant.
Slowly and subtle they burried beneath,
Nowhere but a hole now to lay your wreath.
Far and wide the noise was heard,
casualties of war were now disturbed.
Dirt soaring through the sky,
Peaceful now that times gone by.
By Jack Bettridge. Aged 13 from Tring School, Herts.
